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taller than mesquite and locust trees. Outside of the canyon there are no trees for many miles in any direction, at least not any that were not planted and watered by people.

A little farther I get to a sign labeled Buena Vista. I drop off a mesa area on the trail and into what seems like a painted, magical canyon. The colors of the soils and rocks are every hue from light tan to bright oranges and reds. A short time later and I am beside a nearly vertical wall with many horizontal stripes. I see it is more than colors, but every stripe is a different mineral, from feldspars to sandstones to shales, and each is a different color. I go just a little farther and look back over my shoulder and see a clear view of the Lighthouse. I stop and pull out my compass. It is fairly early fall, so the sun will rise almost due east. I ride just a little farther along the wall and come to a point of red sand that stands tall and rises to the top of the canyon. I am getting shivers up my neck as I realize that I am here. I can see what can become my long shot across the canyon where the trail runs directly underneath the Lighthouse. I can see where the trail drops off the mesa into the bottom of the canyon. Each of the runners will get to an uphill ramp and come right at me alongside the tall wall and then pass just eight feet or so to my right. I look immediately behind me and see a short, flat rock to sit on. I hear angels. This is my spot. I will just need to find it again on race morning, in the dark.

The rest of the GSL trail gets even prettier and more distinctive, but there is no place at all that will give me the views to shoot runners that are as beautiful and as practical as the spot I have found.

Thad accomplished my scouting mission, so I made my way back to camp by following the racecourse. With trail names like Rojo Grande Trail still to get me back to the start/finish area, you can guess that each section of trail is distinctive and beautiful. This is a 20K loop with incredible scenery and four aid stations, each with restroom facilities.

There was still one night until full moon on the Llano Estacado, so I was really excited about the possibilities of night photography in the canyon. My air mattress was already flat, and temperatures were expected to drop to around 40 tonight and the 20s tomorrow night.

<4. A hoodoo and rocks area of the GSL Trail.

The weather one day before the race was enough to open the eyes of travelers, and very nearly everyone travels to the race. On Friday the day started cool and sunny; around noon it turned gray and windy. It blew like crazy, with light rain during the afternoon as the volunteers were setting equipment and supplies in place; then the sun came back out and by the prerace dinner it was chilly, sunny, and beautiful. What a weather roller coaster. The locals didn’t even seem to notice, and race prep never blinked.

The prerace banquet was held at the campus of West Texas A&M University. The company was great and we heard from Lou Myers (the self-proclaimed “Ancient Brit”), who came for what he said would be the last trip to the USA for a race. Jay Norman (who had run 24 consecutive Palo Duro races), Chrissy Ferguson, Lisa Butler, and many longtime Palo Duro participants were there along with the newbies. Good times, good food, and laughs were had by all.

On race morning I wake before my alarm. I have about seven miles to hike in to my spot before any runners get there, and it is cold. Several clothing layers are in order. I load up with all of the camera gear, food, and water I can carry and I am off. I do not turn on my light because it is plenty bright from the full moon. Then I am treated to a spectacular sight as I hike. The park gates open around 6:00 AM., and a nearly solid string of lights flows into the dark canyon. A thermometer that I pass at a trailhead shows 25 degrees. As I get to the Lighthouse Aid Station I am invited to jump into the “mule’ that is leaving for a ride to the Little Fox Trail aid station. The exciting ride saved me a lot of time, and I got to my spot about an hour earlier than I needed to be there. What a blessing that turned out to be.

Sitting in the canyon quietly alone for an hour, as the sun first began to light the horizon, was spiritual for me. The first of the 50-mile runners came past as the canyon was still dim. Very shortly after the 20K runners, who started 20 minutes after the 50-milers, started filing by, the whole canyon lit up with gold.

It was the best and worst possible situation for photography. I was shooting as fast as I could as everyone came past me, and ae as I was continuously adjusting the camera settings, the biggest crowd began to arrive. Across the canyon I saw runners pass under the Lighthouse as first light hit it.

Fifty-miler Chad Bailey approaching the camera position on his first loop.

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