Horseshoe Mesa Panorama

Photographing desert canyons is hard. The direct sunrise light that mountain photographers love when it bathes their peaks in gold never penetrates deep into a canyon. Once sunlight does reach the depths of a canyon, it is always colorless and often very harsh. In a photograph, that can mean distressingly dark shadows and washed-out highlights. Even if the subject is amazing, the overall effect is of an image that could have been shot at any time during a period of an hour or more. There is nothing unique about the light, so the photograph seems mundane. Photographing on a cloudy day is hardly an improvement, and shooting on clear days before sunrise or sunset usually means the canyon is lit by blue light scattered by the blue sky. Blue light dulls the beautiful reds and yellows of the canyon walls, creating an unappetizing color palette.

The best approach to shooting canyons is also the one least likely to succeed. On rare occasions the glow along the eastern horizon before sunrise or along the western horizon after sunset can be so strong that it suffuses even the deepest canyon with a warm, ethereal glow. The light is soft, yet still directional, so it casts soft shadows that reveal the shape of the canyon’s gorges, cliffs, towers, and temples without hiding details in dark shadows or glaringly bright highlights.

There is, of course, a catch to any plan to shoot a twilight glow illuminating such a rugged landscape as the Grand Canyon. Unless you happen to be shooting from a scenic overlook on the rim that is a short stroll from your car, it means hiking in the dark either to reach your shooting location in time to set up before sunrise or to return to your tent long after dark if shooting sunset. To paraphrase Teddy Roosevelt, you need to walk slowly and carry a big headlamp.

Such was the case when I embarked on a three-day backpacking trip into the Grand Canyon in February 2026. I had reserved two nights at aptly named Horseshoe Mesa, reached via a 2,500-foot descent down the Grandview Trail. I planned to shoot sunrise and sunset from the northern tip of the western arm of the horseshoe, a 45-minute walk from my campsite.

There is no water on Horseshoe Mesa, so I began my trip with a gallon of water in my pack as well as the usual camping and camera equipment. I train seven days a week for just such an effort, but the punishing descent still left my 68-year-old quads sore for three days.

After setting up my tent I hiked to the northern edge of the mesa, selected my sunrise location, cursed the ever-present contrails scarring the sky while shooting sunset and evening twilight, hiked back to camp in the dark, slept a few hours, rose in the dark and hiked back to my shooting location, arriving a full hour before sunrise when it was still quite dark. I knew from experience that if I was so lucky as to see a perceptible twilight glow, it could start as much as 45 minutes before the sun rose.

Some of the most dramatic formations in the Grand Canyon were arrayed before me, emerging slowly from the lightening gloom: Zoroaster Temple, Brahma Temple, Angels Gate, Cape Royal, and Vishnu Temple. Almost imperceptibly at first, the towers and gorges began to glow. The wispy cirrus clouds blushed pink. Somewhere to the east, out of sight behind the canyon walls, there must have been an intense glow along the horizon. By the almanac time of sunrise, the glow had faded. Red sunrise light illuminated the tallest towers and the canyon rim at the moment of sunrise, but those subjects were a tiny part of the image, and the rest of the canyon was lost in blue shadow. A rare and magical moment was over. I packed up, hiked back to camp, and a devoured a much-delayed, eagerly anticipated breakfast of granola, powdered milk, and strong coffee.