For the most part, I’m a self-taught photographer, and in that regard, there’s been no better place to learn by trial and error than the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. I lived there for nearly three decades while working as the director of the Grand Canyon Field Institute, part of what now is called Grand Canyon Conservancy.
My wife, Kim, was GCC’s art director and often needed print-ready images for various publications. And my own position afforded me plenty of time to capture photos that could showcase our program and bolster my personal portfolio. This one is among the most memorable images I made.
After a big winter storm, the Canyon was bathed in spectacular midmorning light, so I took a break from work and zipped out on present-day Hermit Road. As I pulled up to (I believe) Hopi Point, I saw a gaggle of visitors standing on the retaining wall and waving their hands in the air, as if trying to get someone’s attention over the edge. I walked up to them without my camera and saw a peculiar shadow down on the swirling fog bank. Oddly, it seemed to respond only to my movements — essentially, each of us at the overlook had our own shadow.
I ran to my car for my Canon EOS 5D Mark II, then hustled back to the overlook in time to catch the shadow again, this time with a modest “crown” of a rainbow. Later, I learned that this phenomenon — a magnified shadow cast on a cloud as the result of a strong light source — is known as a Brocken spectre, after a German mountain where it often occurs.
In later years, I saw a few similar Brocken spectres, including one featuring the shadow of a rising jet breaking through the clouds. This image, though, appeared in the September 2008 issue of Arizona Highways — and, as noted in that issue, it was the first image of a Brocken spectre ever published in the magazine.