There’s a kind of reverence that fills the air when you walk through Arches National Park. It’s not just the wind whispering through sandstone canyons or the shadows cast by towering formations—it’s the overwhelming sense that nature, over countless millennia, has been sculpting a gallery for those lucky enough to wander through it.
I was making my way along the trail when I caught my first glimpse of Skyline Arch. There are many jaw-dropping moments in Arches, but this was different—a true “Whoa!” that stops your breath. The arch loomed with quiet strength, carved into the red rock canvas like a portal to another time. In a park famed for its 2,000+ natural arches, each one stands out for a reason—some delicate as lace, others twisted like ancient roots, and some, like Skyline, commanding with sheer mass and presence.
Skyline Arch has its own dramatic history. Back in 1940, a massive boulder fell from its span, doubling the size of the opening in a moment that redefined its shape forever. But statistics don’t capture its grandeur. I moved to evaluate several perspectives of the formation, taking photo after photo, chasing an angle that might do it justice—but each image fell short. The arch was too vast, too timeless, to be confined to pixels.
Just as I paused to consider my next shot, something extraordinary happened. A fellow traveler from our group, Dan Toothaker, happened to step into the frame with a companion hiker—unplanned, unposed, and perfectly placed. The composition came alive. Their silhouettes beneath the massive arch brought scale, wonder, and humanity into focus.
It was one of those rare gifts life sometimes offers—a reminder that photography is equal parts vision and serendipity. Sure, it takes a practiced eye, but sometimes it’s simply about being there. At the right place. At the right time. With your lens pointed in hope.
And when people ask what kind of photographer I am, I don’t hesitate.
Hopeful. Always hopeful.
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