Before my move to Moab, in the mid 1980’s, winter here wasn’t a factor for me. Like many visitors, my time in Moab had been limited to the spring or fall, I didn’t even imagine what a Moab winter would be like. Until I made that inevitable plunge into Moabdom.
That first Moab winter was a real winter, with plenty of snow in town, ice on the river, and my first taste of a nasty Moab inversion. But with the “hardships” of that first winter came discovery, and blessed solitude—the kind of solitude that Ed Abbey had promised would be possible in the “canyonlands” and in that winter of 1987, they still where. In those first two Moab winters, I realized that this was going to be my hiking season. Not only that, but around town I soon realized that winter was the lay-down-on-main-street-and-
What about now, almost thirty years later ? Of course if you’ve lived here or read this publication over the years you know those days of winter solitude are for the most part history, especially down on Main St. But what about winter hiking now? Well, I’m not going to say much. Just know this, winter still comes to Moabdom and the river still freezes, and the snows still sometimes linger in the canyons until March and there’s still some solitude to be had, but I won’t tell anyone exactly where, if you don’t.
Mini avalanche detail. What comes down, must come down. That unnamed side canyon of the Mighty Colorado.
I wanted to capture the repeating patterns, the desert varnish streaking the cliff above, and the mini avalanches on the slope below. That unnamed Colorado River side canyon.
Mini avalanches, unnamed canyon near Moab.
A close-up of the moss encased in ice, it was just like plastic. In a little unnamed side canyon of the Colorado
I’m not particularly a big fan of winter, but when it makes scenes like this around Moab possible, I kind of like it. In an unnamed side Canyon of the Colorado River.
Snow bird. On my little walk down by the Colorado yesterday.
the Colorado River, turned over.
Terry Knouff has been loving the Canyonlands country since 1979, and living in it since 1987. But his first love ( not counting Claudia Fancier in the 4th grade) is photography. Especially instant photography, the kind the Polaroid Corporation once provided to the world. Those days are past, Polaroid went belly up, and the Canyonlands have , by some estimations, been loved to death. But life goes on, and Terry continues to find enjoyment in the Canyon Country near his home in Moab, Utah, and in the art of Photography. He has since found some satisfaction in digital photography, but of late he’s yearned for the “good-old-days” of his instant photography youth. He is currently exploring instant films offered by other companies and former employees of Polaroid, under the banner of the “Impossible Film Project”. And building his perfect instant photography beast, The Frankenroid. You can find his photography online at http://www.flickr.com/photos/tknou
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