Annie's Canyon Trail

Author's Comments

The first time I walked into Annie's, I laughed out loud. There is something absurd about finding a slot canyon ten minutes from the Pacific, in a county better known for surf breaks and succulents. But there it is, cut into the bluffs above San Elijo Lagoon, narrow enough that I could press my palms against both walls at once and feel the cool of the sandstone on either side of me. Morning is the only time I will go now. Once the sun is overhead the canyon goes flat and chalky, but in the first hours after sunrise the light enters the slot at an angle and the walls turn the color of warm bread. The layers in the rock are what I keep photographing. Millions of years stacked in cross-section, banded and curving, soft enough that I am told the canyon was carved partly by hands and partly by water, which is a thought I find hard to shake. It is not a secret anymore. There is usually a small cluster of people waiting their turn at the metal rungs that lift you out at the top. But the squeeze itself is brief, and if you arrive early on a weekday in February you can have a few minutes inside where the only sound is your own breath against stone. Leave the big bag in the car. I shoot this one with a single body and a wide prime, and even that feels like too much equipment in a passage that asks you to turn sideways to pass through.

Gallery