Kilometer 66

Glen Canyon

88.00
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Glen Canyon

88.00

Sometimes images become reminders to keep looking as you go about your day.

This photo was captured from an airplane window while gliding over Glen Canyon, en route elsewhere. The vintage map vibe combined with its acid pink tones made this a sleeper hit at our photoshoot. Everyone was fighting to take it home! Just goes to show that you never know where something mesmerizing may be lurking.

Our scarves measure 48" x 48" and are made from a carefully chosen blend of 30% silk and 70% modal, making them ethereally wispy and softer than these pictures can portray.

Keep on scrolling for lots of styling inspiration and the story behind the photo.

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Sometimes images become reminders to keep looking as you go about your day.

This photo was captured from an airplane window while gliding over Glen Canyon, en route elsewhere. The vintage map vibe combined with its acid pink tones made this a sleeper hit at our photoshoot. Everyone was fighting to take it home! Just goes to show that you never know where something mesmerizing may be lurking.

Our scarves measure 48" x 48" and are made from a carefully chosen blend of 30% silk and 70% modal, making them ethereally wispy and softer than these pictures can portray.

Keep on scrolling for lots of styling inspiration and the story behind the photo.

 
The flight from Dallas to Sacramento angled northwest, chasing the sweet light toward the setting sun. Tangled expressways gave way to gleaming waterways writhing into the prairie. Patchwork quilts of irrigated farmlands blanketed N Texas and New Mexico, morphing into an alien landscape studded with crop circles and pie charts.

I was transfixed by the shifting kaleidoscope of hues and patterns, shapes and textures being endlessly transformed by the sun’s stolid retreat. At first the folks in the seats around me feigned indifference. After a while the steady click of the camera shutter drove some to cast furtive glances out the window. A child and mom in the seats behind gawked openly, vainly trying to figure out what the strange man could possibly be seeing.

Southern Utah’s rust-colored mesas yielded begrudgingly to Glen Canyon’s fiery waterways. I forced myself to stop and read some inane document … then snuck another peek. Just in time to capture molten gold spreading over the face of Lake Tahoe, and hold my breath as we chased the sun over the Sierra’s ragged peaks.

Finally we winged our way into California’s fertile central valley, cruising over golden fields of winter crops. Cross-hatches and sculpted patterns shimmered and leapt from the earth - glowing zentangles on some giant’s prized doodle pad.

Just before our descent I stood to stretch, glancing down rows of fellow window-sitters. Most snoozed or stared blankly, shades drawn, protecting themselves from the sun’s intrusive glare. Looking into the light can be so … tiring.
— Photographer's Notes