On The Edge of The Event Horizon

When J. Robert Oppenheimer and his student proposed their model for black holes, the ingenious physicist, father of atomic bomb, thought we would never see them, because light can’t escape from them. It turns out that he was wrong: before matters fall through the event horizon, the boundary beyond which nothing indeed can come back out, there’s a violent struggle that emits ultra high energy radiation: black holes radiate, therefore are visible. This is not just a theory; we now have photos of them. At this time, EHT, or Event Horizon Telescope, has captured images of two black holes. It’s certain that we will see more of them.

Just over a year ago, during my residency with Grand Canyon Conservancy, the images of black holes were still imaginary: they were never observed. The “rule” I made for Pilgrimage of Light, is that I only project celestial photographs, not illustrations. This makes sense, because my concept conveys the time it takes for the light to travel to us. A photograph from the galactic light that actually makes the journey to reach the sensors of the cameras behind the telescope, is required; drawings of galaxies, no matter how cool they look, are conceptually inappropriate.

This is why when I excitedly accepted the invitation from Clover Morell, GCC’s artist in residence manager, to return to Grand Canyon as their AiR alumnus, one of the first images came to my mind was an EHT’s black hole photo. I had no idea whether this would work, because the images of a black hole have much less features than a galaxy’s.

I also had no idea that during this trip, I would flirt with my own event horizon, a personal, point-of-no-return, before I escaped it to come back to tell the story.

What’s Changed and What’s Not

Much has changed since the winter of 2023 in addition to the existence of black hole photos. When I was at GC last time, the brutal winter raged, which expedited my aging process in that month, notably, getting my first arthritis in the thumb, probably by operating heavy equipment in bitter cold. I expected summer heat this time. With so many recent deaths at GC, some caused by heatstrokes, I planned and prepared my hikes carefully.

Plateau Point was my favorite vantage point. It overlooked Colorado River and Vishnu base rock from right above The Great Unconformity. I did, however, longingly looked at Phantom Ranch from afar, wishing I could get further down there. Stormy weather scratched the plan. This time, I will hike all the way to the bottom to Phantom Ranch.

What remains the same is Grand Canyon itself, the grandeur that witnesses the thousands of millions of years, on which the duration of our life time can make little changes. Every one needs to rush to Grand Canyon to see it, not because it will go away, but because we will go away. To fully experience GC, though, is not for the faint hearted or ill-prepared. Youth is not required, but stamina helps. I don’t have the former, but I do maintain the latter.

The First Shot

I always rush to produce at least one image on my first night; this makes me feel good, seeing my scoreboard counting away from 0. While scouting the site of the night, a soprano shared the trail with me at a distance. She sampled a few operatic arias, singing her heart out while the echos of her vibratos bounced between the walls of the canyon. After the final note of Musetta’s Waltz from the opera La Boheme, I gave her a standing ovation(well, my admission was for standing only anyway) and yelled bravo! She yelled her thankfulness to her only audience member.

I couldn’t stop myself from looking up to the tiny platform of Trail View Overlook, visible to me on the edge of the rim. This is where I took my favorite images during my 2023 winter residency. This image that features two giant planets and my beloved trail, was photographed exactly in the same line of sight in the opposite direction. Where I stood now, was on the left side of the Saturn Ring. Having observed this part of Grand Canyon thoroughly from various points, I started to feel like walking my backyard!

I was at the cluster of switchbacks when I noticed the awe inspiring Coconino Sandstones to my left. The intricate geologic details on a sheer cliff that thrust upward vertically looked perfect to receive the projection of a galaxy. I would place the camera at the turn of that switchback where the sandstone wall was at the closest. The projector would be set behind me, on a higher ground on the trail. With this setup, I produced this image:

Arp 237 on 280 million-year-old Coconino Sandstone.

The compositional strategy is to view the projection from a near, angled perspective, while the projector is further and projection plane is aligned with the surface of projection, Mother Nature’s projection screen, the 280 million years old Coconino Sandstone.

Here is a diagram to illustrate where this took place.

Where *Arp 237 on 280 million-year-old Coconino Sandstone* was photographed.

The weather was incredibly comfortable, with cool breeze. I was so spoiled by the natural air condition, I didn’t want to stop.

Amongst People

The next day, the day before the big hike into the Canyon, I took the day easy. Other than delivering the 30-pound duffel bag to the mule barn which contains the two tripods, the laptop and this and that, which were all required for the life and work at Phantom Ranch, I did go for a shoot. This time though, I was at perhaps the most popular tourist spot at Grand Canyon, Mather Point. I produced images like these:

…which are more aligned to street photography than nature photography. What was I up to? Let me just say that these shots were not just part of a new series, they were also rushed to Slides from Digital, the lab that produced all my slides for projection. I will resume the task when I get the slides back, after 4 days’ hike in the Canyon.

The Descent

10 miles, 5000 feet elevation change and scorching sun are no joking matter. The news of recent deaths at Grand Canyon, some due to heatstroke, are also alarming. I planned for the hike carefully. Other than reducing loads, having enough water and a new pair of hiking boots, I also planned to hike mostly in the dark.

The entire route. The round trip I made to and from Phantom Ranch.

The hike would be broken into two segments. The green segment would bring me to Havasupai Garden, where I would spend a night. The next morning I would start early to complete the descent on the blue segment. An 8-hours walking downward would set me 1.3 billion years back in time to the Vishnu Schist, the oldest rock at GC.

The initial descent on Bright Angel Trail; the entrance to my office for the next 4 days.

Going downward is easy on the heart and the lung but hard on the knees. Every step is to brake the sliding downward. It didn’t help that two weeks ago on the tennis court I emulated Carlos Alcaraz’s charge to the net and won the point with a half volley, but I also felt a sharp pain in my left knee. I was reminded of that glorious moment, every step of the way. I had to give my right leg more work, making it do more the bending. Trek poles are the best, they reduce the load on the legs, keep me balanced and make otherwise idling arms useful. They also prevent the hands from swinging like pendulums and swell up in a long hike.

Shortly after I passed the spot where I project Arp 237 on Coconino Sandstone a couple days ago, I reached 1.5 mile rest house. 33 years ago, Olive and I, the newly wed, hiked down to here with our best friend Calvin on a slippery, wintry trail, after many hard landings on the bums, and were ready to enjoy a box of raisins, a chipmunk rushed out of nowhere, grabbed the whole box and ran. It happened on this edge, illuminated in green by my headlight in the above photo. The critter went home a hero, and we hiked back up empty bellied.

I reached the bunkhouse at Havasupai garden at 10pm. Opening the door, I immediately saw a pair of hiking boots. The boots are the most effective and unofficial way to identify the roommates at this facility for the employees of Grand Canyon. This particular pair of boots were tiny, almost in kids’ size. I’ve “met” them a few times in my previous visit, but I’ve never met their owner.

Just when I was thinking which of the two rooms I should enter, the closed door opened and out came a petite lady. She looked sleepy and alarmed.

“Who are you?” The owner of tiny boots said abruptly.

“Uh, sorry, I hope I didn’t startle you! I’m Mark Chen with the Conservancy.”

“Oh, OK.” Without saying another word, she retreated into her side of the bunkhouse. My choice was clear then: the door led to the other room.

The next morning, we properly introduced ourselves to each other. Kelly was with the compost team. I knew her teammate Matt from the previous residency. These people maintains the restrooms in the park. They do a difficult and important job. They have my ultimate respect.

I said bye to my new friend and off I went to continue the hike. Havasupai Garden is on the gentle slope of Bright Angel Shale. The trail was easy with slow descent, but excitement awaited: I was approaching the Great Uncomformity. When the soil under my feet started to turn reddish, I looked around and I knew I was about to leap 1,100 million years back in geologic time.

In the photo above, the rock at the top is Tapeats Sandstone at the bottom of Bright Angel Shale, aged over 500 million years. Its horizontal layer, typical to sedimentary rocks, sits on top of the completely different rock, Vishnu Schist, which is metamorphic, and 1.6 billion years old! Where did the missing 1.1 billion years’ worth of strata go? The theory is that they were eroded away in an ice age, before the deposit of much younger rocks resumed.

Having a place on my bucket list checked off, I pressed forward and soon reached Devil’s Corkscrew. According to the ranger, the switchbacks’ steepness and distance are no biggies compared to those of Bright Angel Trail near South Rim. But the north facing direction of this slope happens to expose the trail to the sun all day long. I was there early to avoid this, but I could see the sun creeping up on the east, ready to roast whoever stepped on Devil’s Corkscrew. Not me! Not today! But, I would feel its indirect impact in the days to come.

After the quick descent on Devil’s Corkscrew and some hikes on rugged trails, the roar of Colorado became audible in a slow crescendo. Soon, I was near the end Bright Angel Trail. Forgoing the last tiny section of it to reach the beach, I turned onto River Trail to go for Phantom Ranch. Bright Angel Bridge was in sight, beaconing the end of my hike. The mid morning sun was getting intense as I walked in a out of shades. This where I ran into Katarina.

The young lady told me she was just going to see the bridge and she will turn around to return to the rim, when I noticed that she had just 1/4 of a bottle of water.

“That’s not enough water for making the trip back.” I said.

“Oh that’s ok, I will fill them at the water stations.”

The water stations are miles away from each other. I looked at her young face and red cheeks. “Are you sure?” I said.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Said Katarina in a Russian accent.

We crossed the bridge together.

Then she turned around and started her return trip. The day has just started to heat up and she had 10 hours of ascent ahead. What drove her? Youthful confidence or ignorance? Or both? I wished her luck and told myself that I didn’t wish to read about her in future GC news.

Phantom Ranch

Bunkhouse settled in. Duffel bag picked up and the famed lemonade gulped down, I was ready to scout the site for the night’s shoot. Walking just nearby the bunkhouse, I saw plenty of impressive rocky walls. This is my pick of the Vishnu Schist:

Returning to the spot as planned and shutting my mouth tight to avoid ingesting dozens of moths, I projected James Webb’s image of galaxy cluster, MACS 0416 at 4.3 billion light years away. Its light took 1/3 of the universe’ age to reach us.

MACS 0416
Image credits: NASA, ESA, CSA, STScI, Jose M. Diego (IFCA), Jordan C. J. D'Silva (UWA), Anton M. Koekemoer (STScI), Jake Summers (ASU), Rogier Windhorst (ASU), Haojing Yan (University of Missouri)

I littered these thousands of galaxies, each one as grand as our own Milky Way, on the 1.6 billion years old rock, as old as 1/3 of Earth’s age.

I slept like a baby after the long day.

The Storm at The Event Horizon

The weather continued to please. Even at the bottom, which is often 20 degrees F hotter than the rims, the nights are in a comfortable 70. For a Houstonian who recently survived power outage for 5 days after hurricane Beryl wreak havoc, these conditions were more than acceptable. The monsoon rains were to be thanked, until tonight.

As I set up at the planned site at Bright Angel Bridge, the cloud thickened. There would be no star in the shots tonight, I thought. But hey, the compositional plan wasn’t to include the sky, anyway. If Mother Nature doesn’t offer, I won’t fret; I will work around it. I set up the projector and cameras, pre-focused and pre-visualized for a Pilgrimage of Light image as well as a Phantom of The Great Dying image, and I waited for darkness.

Tonight, the darkness seemed to arrive in proportion to the density of rain drops and frequency of lightening.

When it was dark enough for me to test projection, and a successful test it was, the rain also successfully thwarted my task. I packed everything except the tripods, knowing water wouldn’t damage the latter.

I took shelter in a nearby mule barn. Somehow, there’s a recurring theme of being helped by these hoofed beasts on this trip. I took care not to step on their grassy poops. The rain eased up and I re-deployed. The lightening persisted; that means in the 2-minute plus exposures, they provide some of the accumulated light. Would that work?

The pre-focused Hasselblad lens has been reset, thanks to its design of focusing ring. I used the help of laser pointer to focus in the dark. This method works, but it is half-measuring and half-guessing. Trial and error is a must in the process. I wouldn’t go home with a technically flawed shot for the one and only black hole projection. I’d rather spend 30 extra minutes to make sure all details were taken care of.

My stubbornness prevailed.

Sagittarius A*, Vishnu Schist and Bright Angel Bridge

The projection was aimed so the bridge extends from the very center of the black hole, the event horizon, as if it’s the jet stream shooting off from its accretion disk.

I swapped the slide with Colleen’s drawing of diplocaulus and made a projection for the Phantoms.

Bright Angel Bridge Haunted by The Ghost of Diplocaulus

Working Around at Its Best

If I was persistent to catch the curve balls Mother Nature threw at me, I must have been inspired by the people I met earlier that night. At the canteen’s dinner table, I met Michael, Eve and Charlotte, who were in the midst of a rim-to-rim hike. Michael is blind, He was experiencing Grand Canyon in a way most of us can’t fathom: through sound and tactility. Eve and Charlotte were his guides. Their extraordinary endeavor intrigued me. Eve mistook me as Mel Chin, another MC who happens to be my artistic hero, a mistake I gladly accepted and clarified. Our affinity went even further as we identified each other as Houstonians. By the end of the dinner, Eve and I would call each other a lost sibling, having been born only days apart. They introduced me to Andrew, a film maker who’s producing a documentary of their amazing adventure. They would hike out southward at 3am the next morning, an hour earlier than my plan.

I started my ascent at 4am as planned. Starting with crossing of Bright Angel Bridge.

During this hike, I notice foot prints that were fresh, the only ones after the storm reset the ground. I’ve also notice trek pole marks that resembled mine, which could be from Michael’s trek pole, which I identified earlier as the same type by Leki. I would catch them for sure, I thought. True enough, I started hearing their conversation from afar as I approached Davil’s Corkscrew. 1.5 hours later, I reunited with them. Together, we hiked the rest of the way to Havasupai Garden.

Left to right: Andrew, Eve, me and Michael

We said good bye and promised each other a reunion back home in Houston. Then I checked into the bunkhouse for a big nap before the planned hike to the rim.

I was lucky to have had a brief encounter with ranger Debbie, who advised me against the dusk-evening hike. The storm normally strikes in late afternoon into the evening; they might be hazardous. Getting soaked with all the cameras in the backpack was deal breaker. I decided to stay overnight and go for an early morning hike. There was no additional boots at the bunkhouse, I would have a quiet and restful night.

The solitude was suddenly shattered by urgent knocks on the door. Rushing to the door, I saw ranger Debbie again, but this time she was followed by a family of four, among whom the young daughter looked exhausted. The family was on the way from Havasupai to Phantom, when she started to show signs of heat exhaustion under the sun at Devil’s Corkscrew. They turned back, asked for help from Debbie, who brought them to the bunkhouse to cool down in the A/C.

I helped them to settle in, starting with collecting linens for the bunkbeds. Then, an evening alone became a cozy, chatty night with thunders and lightning.

The hike back to the rim was not eventful, though full of fresh obstacles from the runoffs. There were plenty of large pieces of rocks on the trail. If I hiked the night before, they would have fallen on me.

Michael and his gang designed their hike to accommodate his limitation. The family in distress admitted flaws in their plan and changed it. I delayed my hike was to avoid the storm. We all prevailed at the end, not by overcoming the unsurmountable. we worked around it.

Scenes from Sims

The slides awaited me at Grand Canyon Conservancy’s office. With them, I was ready to create images for my new series: Scenes of Sims.

For this series, I ask the question of what if the world is a simulation with glitches. I create a confusion of time and space, through my established technique. This time at Mather Point, I created these images.

Thanks to Clover, David and Jeane’s cameo appearances in the simulations.

To The Edge of The Event Horizon

Grand Canyon is a dangerous place. Many of the tourists put themselves in danger and survived, not because they did the right thing, but because they were lucky. I came as fully prepared as I could. But accident doesn’t happen where you expect it to happen. On this journey, I had a near death experience, and it didn’t happen at Grand Canyon. It happened before I arrived.

At the Car Rental Center at Phoenix Airport, I finished the paperwork and was ready to pick up the car, carrying 3 pieces of luggage. The moment I stepped on the 3 stories high, downward escalator, my heavy luggage in front of me, with two tripods and many other things, tilted forward. My attempt to grab it caused myself to lose balance, exacerbated by the 30 pounds camera backpack. I rolled over the luggage and started tumbling down the escalator. After a split second of memory gap, I regained awareness. My only thought was that if I couldn’t stop rolling, I would die.

I grunted in a struggle and used all my might and all 4 limbs to brake the downward thrust. I managed it. I stood up on the steps and saw my two hand luggages behind me, both lying flat on the metal steps. I held them up and started to feel the pain. All from the limbs and nothing from the head.

Not a single person saw this. A rental car attendant at the “friendliest airport” came to greet me at the landing.

“How are you doing sir?” He asked.

“All fine,” I said, my voice was low and shaky, “except that I just fell down on this escalator.”

“Great! Let me have your contract so I can take you to your car.”

He was busy being friendly and didn’t take in what I said.

In the car, I took out the first aid kit and patched myself.

I thought I had a complete inventory on the damages. Nothing broken. I thought, until I took out the laptop.

In the backpack, the laptop took the brunt of the impact. It might have cause my imbalance, but it also saved my spine.

Like matters falling towards a black hole, I was near the point of no return, only to orbit out of it. I’m telling you the story, having come back from the edge of the event horizon.