Red Rock Deserts is the ninth installment of Finding My Way Home. To view the previous installment, click here. If you wish to start from the beginning, click here. This is the ongoing story of the six years I spent as a vagabond photographer.

I’ve been in California since the beginning of the year and now April is almost half over. Time for a new state. Hello Nevada. In looking for a place between Shoshone, California and Zion National Park, it made sense to stop at one of the campgrounds on Lake Mead. Now Luna can finally have a swim. I made a reservation at Echo Bay Resort. Upon arrival, it was clear that this place was once a great lakeside resort, but now is just an “echo” of what it once was. There is a hotel, restaurant, and marina—all abandoned and decaying because of the retreat of the shoreline over the years. Everything that was once on the shore of the lake is now a mile or two away from the water. The only thing left of the resort is the convenience store and the RV park. Most of the people staying here are snowbirds who come for the winter and leave in the summer. Many are fishermen with boats. They have to drive miles to launch since the boat ramp here has not been functional for many years. The park itself could stand some upkeep and maintenance. We end up moving after the first night to another site because the electricity won’t stay on. It is however, relatively easy to access the shoreline, if you don’t mind walking or driving a ways. Luna doesn’t mind at all, and looks forward to her swim pretty much every day of the week we are here.

I’m starting to fall in love with the red rock desert. A lovely day trip to the Valley of Fire State Park only deepens my love. Trails filled with petroglyphs, interesting rock formations and vistas of candy colored ridges keep us occupied for longer than anticipated. One of the greatest things about red rock landscapes is how they color the clouds pale pink by reflection. At first, I thought there was a color cast in my photographs. But then I noticed that my eyes see it as well as my camera. It’s like a little bit of sunset color in the sky all day.

Now it’s on to southern Utah and more red rock desert. I’ve secured a month at Willow Wind RV Park in Hurricane, Utah. The locals don’t pronounce it like the tropical storm. Instead they say “hurrakin,” which I find somewhat amusing. I’m learning about desert terminology, like arroyos and washes. They are actually the same thing, but the name changes depending on what state you are in. These are small “rivers” which are almost always dry, except when they fill up during and after a rain, transforming into a rushing waterway. There are also slot canyons, which are sort of the same thing, but much narrower and carved in rock.

There are so many places to explore in the immediate area, I find myself wondering if a month will be enough. In addition to Zion National Park, there are Sand Hollow and Quail Creek State Parks, both of which are centered around lakes. Another must-see place nearby is the Red Cliffs Recreation Area, which is part of the larger Red Cliffs National Conservation Area. Also, between Hurricane and Zion is the Hurricane Mesa and the LaVerkin Overlook, which is an overlook of a deep gorge cut by the Virgin River. Since I’m staying for a month, I decide to hang a hummingbird feeder at the RV so I can keep my wildlife skills sharp. Plus, I just enjoy watching them.

Chris and I have many different interests, which sometimes lead us in different directions. I am always looking for photographic opportunities, while he is often researching the history of an area in order to write about it. As a result, we spend a good share of our days doing things separately, on our own. One such day, I am already back from Zion National Park, where I had gone pre-sunrise to shoot photos, when Chris arrives back at the RV. He tells me he’s reserved an afternoon helicopter tour of the area surrounding Zion. I am welcome to come if I want. Having had a fear of heights my whole life, my first reaction is thanks, but no thanks. He says he understands, but the reservation is not for another week, so if I change my mind, let him know.

I can’t stop thinking about how amazing the photographs would be from a helicopter. I find myself reading and posting online about which lenses and settings one would use if one were to, hypothetically of course, shoot from a helicopter. The enthusiasm of other photographers regarding aerial photography is contagious, and I soon find myself considering the flight. By the time the day arrives, I have talked myself into it. Chris calls an hour in advance to confirm the reservation, but they break the bad news that the wind is too strong for flying and reschedule it for the next day. Great, another day to fret about it.

The next day is windy again, but as the day wears on, the wind begins to subside. The reschedule has pushed it to a later time slot than originally booked, which means we will be going up just before sunset. Since the wind is calm and the temperature warm, Chris asks if they could remove the doors of the helicopter. I’ve heard this is the only way to get clear, sharp photos without interference from the reflective glass, but I admit this scares me. They also weigh us both so the pilot knows exactly how much weight is in the craft. I hurry to explain how the camera around my neck probably accounts for, oh, say about fiftyish pounds of what their scale is reading. Luckily, they laugh with me and don’t require the camera be weighed separately.

Now, it’s the moment of truth. We’re done with the weighing and signing of waivers and safety instructions. We’re actually walking out to the helipad and boarding the craft. My stomach is in my throat. They strap us in with five-point safety harnesses and fit us with headsets and we are on our way up. As the little building we just came from gets smaller and smaller I take a deep breath and notice how thrilling this is. The excitement has overtaken the fear, at least for now. I start aiming and shooting as the pilot tells me over the headset about landmarks and other points of interest. Chris is filming the red rock desert with his video camera, but I have almost forgotten he is there. He’s telling the pilot where he wants to go and what he wants to see, but I am just listening and shooting. I can’t remember a more electrifying photo shoot, ever. I don’t know if it is the harness, which has me feeling very secure, or the breathtaking views, but my fear has almost entirely disappeared. I’m a flying photographer!

All too soon, our half-hour comes to and end and we are landing back on the helipad we started from. Now I have a memory card full of aerial photographs. And my own memory has a once in a lifetime, unforgettable experience that I never could have imagined in my wildest dreams.