Stretching from Hanksville, Utah to the doorstep of Capitol Reef National Park, the Caineville Desert badlands are a study in stark beauty. Near Hanksville lies the Blue Valley - a particularly photogenic stretch where broad, rounded slopes of Mancos Shale spread out like folds of worn velvet. These fine-grained, clay-rich sediments range in color from bluish-gray to pale tan, their soft curves draped at the base of stubborn sandstone cliffs. Barren gullies lace the hillsides, punctuated only by the occasional stubborn desert plant.
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It’s an alien landscape in both texture and tone - perfect for black-and-white photography. Part of my obsession comes from my early days behind the lens, back in the ’70s and ’80s, when Kodak Tri-X film was my faithful companion. ISO 400, wide exposure latitude, rich texture - it was the stuff of magic. Tri-X let me process and print at home, and its classic grain still shapes how I see certain landscapes. Out here, I instinctively strip the color away in my mind’s eye, chasing strong contrasts, deep shadows, and razor-sharp textures.
While sunrise and sunset are the romantic darlings of photography, I think this is a land best captured in the harsh light of day - when sun and shadow carve out every fold and crease. Clouds are essential here, especially at midday. They soften the glare, deepen the contrasts, and give the desert sky that dramatic punch a monochrome image craves.
A word of warning: heavy rain turns Mancos Shale into something between wet soap and axle grease. Carry extra food and water - you may find yourself spending more time here than planned.
When I took the photos you see here, this region was still largely free of ATV and UTV scars. In 2006, some protections were put in place, but those have since been lifted. Today, cross-country off-road travel is allowed in many areas. While rains can sometimes erase the damage, many slopes now bear fresh tracks. Careful framing can hide the scars, but in the most impacted areas, they’re hard to ignore.
I’m not here to vilify off-road vehicles. After moving to Moab, I joined a rockhounding club and bought my first 4WD vehicle. With the help of seasoned members - many also in the Red Rock 4-Wheelers club - I learned to navigate some of the roughest country in the Southwest. It was white-knuckle fun (just ask Rhonda), and for some with limited mobility, it was the only way to see landscapes like this.
But I’ve always followed one rule: drive to get somewhere. For us, it was about reaching remote rockhounding sites or trailheads, not scaling the same hill twice just to prove we could crest it. Sadly, much of today’s ATV and UTV traffic feels more about the ride than the destination. I am reminded of my late friend, author Ward Roylance, who decades ago described certain areas as “sacrificial” - designated for motorized recreation so other places could remain untouched. The problem is, those sacrificial areas keep growing, and the consequences are etched into the land.
Even so, the Caineville Desert remains an extraordinary place to photograph - if we approach it with care. Few places on Earth blend such stark contrasts, subtle tones, and otherworldly forms. In the right light, it still feels like you're on another planet.
Impacts
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| Impacts of unrestricted off-road vehicle access. Are there better areas for a playground? There are far more resilient places in Utah, such as the amazing slickrock or sandy areas surrounding Moab. |
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