Desert sunsets are iconic. I travel to Arizona regularly, and lived there a long time. I’ve experienced many phenomenal sunsets. This one was a little different, however.
Driving through Saguaro National Park East, and taking in the sight of the giant cacti populating the foothills of the Rincon Mountains, I decided that the sunset would be best captured from the other half of the park, on the west side of Tucson. I made my way across town and drove over the Tucson Mountains to the boundary of the National Park. I drove off the main road and found a spot to park, where I could take some photos of the sunset without buildings, cars, or people. I got out of the car. I had about 45 minutes until sunset. It was the middle of the week - no traffic, no people. I was alone in the desert. The quiet was almost unnerving. I hesitated. Is this safe?
I decided that I would not stray far from my car. I needed a good shot, and I wasn’t seeing one right where I parked. I walked about 100 yards into the desert, if that, before finding the spot where I thought the sunset might provide a picturesque opportunity. I walked back to my car to set up my gear and wait.
About 10 minutes prior to sunset, I walked back to my spot in the desert, all the while keeping my senses alert to movement and noises. Quiet. Nothing but quiet. The air was a little cool, and a few clouds had spotted the sky. I was ready.
The sunset itself was not awe inspiring. There were not enough clouds to capture the colors of the light refracted through the sky. But it was pretty nonetheless, and worthy of the time committed to it. As the sky began to darken into shades of purples, I began to make my way back to the car to call it a night. Along the walk back, I found another couple of shots to take, so i reset, and released the shutter. Then it happened. The silence was broken.
In the distance I heard the trotting of footsteps. Loud, running footsteps. My first thought was that someone was trotting up on a horse. I scanned my surroundings. No horse. But the footsteps were getting louder, closer, and whatever it was, was moving fast. I remained still in the fading light. Heart racing. Eyes wide and staring in the direction of the sound.
Bursting from the desert brush, and bounding over rocks and cacti came two large coyotes - one chasing the other, and moving at incredible speed. They tore across the desert floor no more than 20 feet from my position, leaving nothing but dust behind, and disappearing into the dark brush ahead of them. Had they noticed me? Would they circle back? Surely there are others. Watching. Waiting. The desert is theirs now. I should take my leave.
They moved too fast for me to photograph them in the dying light of the day, but it is an experience I will never forget. The quiet of the desert - the peacefulness I sought - upended by its residents. It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time, to see these beautiful creatures in their natural habitat acting as though I were not even there.
