Big Obsidian Flow

Author's Comments

The Big Obsidian Flow does not photograph the way you expect it to. I have learned this the hard way. From the parking lot it reads as a grey field of rubble, and the scale is genuinely difficult to convey in a wide frame. The mountain behind it competes. The pumice flattens. The light, especially in the middle of the day, refuses to do the work for you. But walk up the metal stairway and stop at the first landing, and the place starts to give you something. The obsidian is jet black and glassy and it catches afternoon sun in small specific flashes, like the flow is full of little broken mirrors. The texture is what I come for now. I have stopped trying to make the wide shot work and started photographing the flow at arm's length, where the volcanic glass shows its real character - the conchoidal fractures, the swirled grey and black bands, the way a single shard can look like polished stone and like something violent at the same time. Late afternoon in September is when I would come back. The light goes raking and low across the flow, and the surface starts to read in three dimensions instead of two. The crowds are thin even in summer because the climb keeps casual visitors honest. Wear real shoes. The obsidian is sharper than glass and it does not forgive a stumble. Stay on the trail, not because the rangers ask you to, but because what is under your feet was molten thirteen hundred years ago and still looks like it remembers.

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