kenosha pass

Amazing aspen, bugling elk, and prancing pronghorn. Those will always be my clearest & most enjoyable memories from my drive up to Kenosha Pass, Colorado this past Saturday (Sept. 19th). I made note of Kenosha Pass last year, after seeing some photos on Flickr, and have been patiently waiting for fall to roll around again so that I could visit this scenic spot myself.

The weather the last few days here in the Denver area has been chilly, wet, & blustery, but this past Saturday was absolutely beautiful and a wonderful day for a trip up into the High Country. Kenosha Pass lies at an elevation of 10,001 feet above sea level, and is about 65 miles southwest of Denver. I had decided not to stop at the pass on my way out, but rather to drive farther west out to Fairplay and then explore some dirt roads north of US 285 as I backtracked toward Kenosha Pass. So that’s what I did.

After reaching the outskirts of Fairplay, I picked a road at random, turned right, and headed north. Hmm, a few stands of colorful aspen, but not much going on. I did get the photo to the right, so this little excursion wasn’t a total bust.

I managed to make my way out to US 285 again and headed back east. I got to the little burg of Como and decided to explore northward again. Back a dirt road out of Como you’ll find the southern terminus of the Boreas Pass Road (which apparently goes all the way north to Breckenridge), which is where I turned around since I had the Mini… but just judging from the scenery out to the point where I turned around, I bet the entire Boreas Pass traverse would be a cool drive if you have a vehicle more suitable than a Mini Cooper for tackling mountain roads. I got the shot below, and also the one at the top of the post, north of Como.

(Oh, and it was neat because, everywhere I stopped along these lonely dirt roads north of US 285, I could hear elk bugling off in the distance. If you’ve never heard elk bugling, you absolutely need to head up into the mountains mid- to late-September, because it’s really something pretty cool.)

Back out on US 285 and heading eastward, I next came to the town of Jefferson. Another left turn and I was headed north again. After a mile or two, the paved road turned to dirt and branched off in a couple of directions. Time for more exploring, but not before pulling over at this point to watch some pronghorn and get a few photos of these skittish critters. They were only a short distance away out in a field, and watched me very closely the whole time I observed them.

After driving a ways and coming to another fork in the road, I randomly chose to turn right and I’m glad I did since I ended up back a narrow dirt road, near a llama farm, where I happily discovered the picturesque grove of aspen you see below. I wish I could’ve actually got out into the grove, but a barbed wire fence prevented any traipsing through woods. I was still able to get some nice shots from the roadside. In fact, this is my favorite photo from that day. (It also made Explore on Flickr. Yeah!)

Back out on US 285 (again) and heading eastward (again), I was now climbing back up to Kenosha Pass. There were maybe five cars parked at the pass when I came through shortly after sunrise, but now (about 11am) it was CRAZY! Cars parked all over, people walking, people biking, dogs frolicking, babies crying. But, hey, I was there, too, adding to the crowd, so I can’t really complain, can I? In all seriousness, I can see why this is such a popular spot— it’s some drop-dead, gorgeous scenery (see below) and it’s very easily accessible from the Denver-area for anyone with a car & the desire to drive up there.

I had planned on making the Kenosha Pass the first of three consecutive weekend explorations (the other two destinations being the Maroon Bells & the Mt Sneffels area) into the mountains, but with the crazy wintery weather we’ve experienced this week, I’m wondering if the cold & snow have ruined the aspen for any more autumn photography. Guess we’ll have to see.

Thanks for reading about stuff I’ve photographed! ~ Rich

lake helene hike

I went up to Lake Helene in Rocky Mountain National Park last Sunday (September 6th), but it’s not the hike I wanted to do last weekend. All summer long, I had it in mind to do Mount Elbert over the Labor Day weekend to send summer out with a big bang. And in Colorado, it doesn’t get any bigger than 14,433-foot tall Elbert. But the weather forecast was just looking too iffy for me to drive all the way up there and chance the long hike at that altitude, so I reluctantly decided to switch gears and just stay closer to home for a hike up in RMNP.

Lake Helene is a 3.2 mile hike (one-way distance) from the Bear Lake Trailhead. It lies at 10,580 feet, so the total elevation gain from the trailhead is a very manageable 1,130 feet. For a goodly portion of the way, the trail climbs through thick, tangled pine forest. Since I was hiking through the forest in the dark before sunrise, and since it was very windy, I actually dug out my bear bell and attached it to my pack. The wind was blowing steadily in my face, so the last thing I wanted to do was stumble upon some black bear & cub that didn’t hear me or smell me as I made my way up the trail. This was probably a needless precaution… but better safe than sorry.

It took me a wee bit longer than I thought to get up to the lake, so I missed any alpenglow that might have lit up Notchtop Mountain at sunrise. As I was getting closer to Lake Helene, I also noticed the (almost) full moon was rapidly setting just behind Notchtop and might make a neat shot with the mountain & the lake… but I missed that, too. Stink.

Getting to the lake actually requires a short jaunt off the “official” trail, along one of the fisherman’s trails that winds through the trees & rocks & scrub. I found Lake Helene with no problem, but after I saw how tangled & messy the trees and undergrowth were in the area, I abandoned the idea I’d had to also try and find Two Rivers Lake. Two Rivers supposedly lays just a hop, skip, & a jump northeast of Helen, but I’ll save that bushwhacking for another day.

Anyway, just as I got down to Lake Helene, I broke away from the path when I reached a rocky streambed and followed that streambed south for a very short distance to the eastern shore of the lake. Because of the stiff wind, the water on the lake was so choppy that any kind of reflection shot was out of the question (or so I thought). I was determined to find some sort of interesting shot, though, so I hunted along the shore of the lake until I found a small pool of water that was sheltered by some rocks which were acting as a windbreak. As a result of those outlying rocks, the water in the pool was a bit calmer & I was able to get a reflection of Notchtop Mountain in it. A fuzzy, inexact reflection, but a reflection nontheless, by golly. Take that, wind!

I definitely want to head back to Lake Helene sometime. This is a marvelous spot, with the distinctive notch in Notchtop Mountain (12,160+ feet) just across the way. I’m certain that with a bit of alpenglow on Notchtop at sunrise, coupled with a mirror-perfect reflection of the peak, Lake Helene will produce a must-print shot that I’ll have hanging on my wall.

Thanks for reading about stuff I’ve photographed. ~Rich

emerald lake hike

I hiked up to Emerald Lake in Rocky Mountain National Park this past weekend (Saturday, August 29th). I had hiked up to Emerald last summer, but had been wanting to re-do this hike since getting my wide angle lens (Canon 10-22mm).

On my way up to Emerald Lake I stopped at Dream Lake for sunrise. There were two other guys who had arrived before me, and then one more guy with camera & tripod showed up… and he was wearing hip waders to actually get out in the water at the eastern end of the lake. I didn’t know whether to be impressed or amused. Anyway, this particular Saturday morning was pretty much a mirror-image of when I was at Dream in July, so— knowing I wasn’t going to get any kind of unique shot— I simply settled for getting a vertical shot with a nice reflection, then packed up & headed for Emerald Lake.

Emerald Lake is 0nly a 0.7 mile hike from Dream, with a 200 foot elevation gain. On the way up, I got a nice shot of Tyndall Creek as it flows down a steep rock face beside the trail (below). I used a neutral density filter to slow down the shutter speed (this is how you get that neat “streaming” effect with flowing water in a creek, waterfall, etc…) & then tone mapped the image in Photomatix.

Emerald Lake lies at an elevation of 10,100 feet above sea level, and is dramatically situated at the foot of Hallett Peak (12,713 feet) and Flattop Mountain (12,324 feet). It’s only a 2.6 mile round-trip hike from the Bear Lake Trailhead (9,450 feet), so this is a nice, easy hike. For photography purposes, this is a target-rich hike, since you also pass right by Dream, Nymph, & Bear Lakes. And up between Nymph & Dream, you’re also treated to a nice view of Longs Peak & Glacier Gorge to the south.

Once I arrived at Emerald Lake, I got a few shots (including the self-portrait at the top of the post), then sat down to enjoy the solitude— since I had the place all to myself!— and have a snack. When I’m hiking, I won’t spend any longer at some spots than it takes for me to grab my shots, and then I’m quickly on my way again… but at other spots I just have to stop for a bit & sit and enjoy God’s creation, and Emerald was definitely one of those places.

When I did finally head back down the trail, I stopped at Nymph Lake on the hike out and got a lovely reflection shot (being sure to get a bit different foreground than my shot from July). Just as a side note: It’s heart-breaking to see the damage the pine beetles have done to the trees around the lake. I haven’t been over to the western side of RMNP this summer, but I imagine it’s unbelievably devastated, since last year that side of the park was already much worse.

The shot below is Bear Lake… where I almost didn’t stop before heading for the car. When I got back down to the trailhead, I was just going to blow by Bear Lake, but then I thought, “Eh, c’mon, there was such a nice reflection at Nymph, you might as well walk over to Bear ,too, & take a look.” And I’m very glad I did. I wanted to get some kind of a different composition than I’ve shot previously here at Bear, and I think the shot with the rocks in the foreground & Hallet Peak reflected across the way accomplishes that.

As always, thanks for reading about stuff I’ve photographed. ~Rich

black & blue hike

This past Thursday, I was casting about for a hike to do this weekend and I finally settled on Black Lake in Rocky Mountain National Park. I’d hiked up Glacier Gorge to Black last summer, but that was before I got my wide angle lens (Canon 10-22), so I’d kinda been itching to re-do this hike with it.

As I was perusing my RMNP map while preparing for the hike, I noticed Blue Lake up above Black and I thought, “Wouldn’t it be funny to visit both lakes and call it The Black & Blue Hike?!” So that’s what I did.

Blue Lake lies at 11,140 feet and is a 5.5 mile hike from the Glacier Gorge Trailhead. During the hike up to Blue, you’ll gain 1,960 feet in elevation and will pass Mills Lake, Jewel Lake, and Black Lake. Each lake offers remarkable views, and you’ll find yourself breaking out the camera at each one. You’ll also pass right alongside Ribbon Falls as it cascades down the steep slope below Black Lake.

I started hiking about 5:20am this morning (Saturday, August 22nd) and reached Mills Lake an hour later, just as the sun was rising. Even though the bright ball of the sun was rising far to the east across the Great Plains, Glacier Gorge was still locked in deep shade, and would be for quite a while yet. I decided to go ahead and get a shot at Mills anyway (below), since this is one of my favorite spots in RMNP. Plus, there was a halfway decent reflection and I knew I better jump on that while it lasted since any kind of reflection at Mills Lake is (in my experience) pretty rare.

A few minutes later, I also stopped and got a shot at Jewel Lake, which is Mills’ next door neighbor. It was still pretty dark, even though it was now a good twenty or so minutes after sunrise, but again I decided to go ahead and get a picture here since the reflection was too good to pass up (below). To get to this spot, I hiked off the trail just a short way, through the marshy meadow at the northern end of the lake.

In both the Mills & Jewel shots, you’re looking up Glacier Gorge toward Longs Peak. I could actually see some lights winking off & on up there as folks were heading for the Trough after going through the Keyhole and out onto the Ledges. It made me think of my climb up Longs via the Keyhole Route, a year ago next week.

From Jewel Lake, it’s still about a two mile hike up to Black Lake. The trail is kind of rough & rocky as it winds its way through the forest. When I got up to Black, there was a stellar reflection of McHenrys Peak and Arrowhead, so I hopped out on some rocks to a likely spot and fired away. I used a graduated neutral density filter to try and deal with the contrast difference between the brightly lit mountain tops and the heavily shaded lake. HDR processing also helps with this and the image below was created from five different exposures (-2, -1, 0, +1, +2).

After shooting at Black Lake, it was time to head up to Blue Lake. The shot at the top of the post is Blue Lake, looking north back down Glacier Gorge. In Rocky Mountain National Park: The Complete Hiking Guide, Lisa Foster says:

Blue Lake sits obscurely atop a large shelf below the steep northwestern slope of Storm Peak. This secluded and rarely visited lake remains neglected only because of its proximity to better-known lakes serviced by a good trail. The hike follows the Glacier Gorge Trail to Black Lake and beyond before becoming a short off-trail jaunt over tundra and boulders to reach the breathtaking setting of this high alpine lake.

And I had a bit of a hard time finding it. Just a bit. But I found it, by gosh.

The hike out was pretty uneventful. I finished the hike about a quarter after eleven. Six hours… not bad for an eleven mile hike with plenty of photography along the way. And unlike last Saturday, when I hiked up to Chasm Lake in less than optimal weather, today’s weather was grand. Not a cloud in the sky the entire hike. The temp when I left the trailhead this morning was an exquisite 42 degrees. The temp when I got back down home early this afternoon: a brutal 90+ degrees. Geez.

Anyway, Black Lake is a great hike if you want to leave behind all the people that make their way up to Mills Lake. On the hike up, and then until I got back down to Mills, I probably didn’t see more than ten other people.

Thanks for reading about stuff I’ve photographed. ~Rich

chasm lake hike

Chasm Lake in Rocky Mountain National Park has been on my to-do list of hikes for a while now, so I decided to go ahead and tackle it this weekend. This hike starts from the Longs Peak Trailhead at 9,400 feet and gains 2,380 feet in 4.2 miles. Chasm Lake is nestled directly below the famous East Face of Longs Peak. Standing on the shore of Chasm Lake, the summit of 14,259-foot Longs Peak is almost a vertical half-mile straight above you. Photos simply can’t do the scene justice.

Just as a side note: Chasm Meadows and Chasm Lake are the jumping off points for technical climbing routes up the sheer, intimidating eastern side of Longs, Rocky Mountain National Park’s only 14er. People come from all over the world to climb here.

I started this hike a little before five o’clock this morning (Saturday, August 15th). I hiked almost an hour before it was light enough to turn off my headlamp & stow it in my pack. Any weekend in August that you head up this trail, you can expect lots of company, and this particular Saturday morning was no exception. I caught up to & passed several groups of slower hikers before I reached tree line. Once above tree line, and with the light strengthening, I could see there was quite a bit of overcast. I didn’t think this had been in the forecast for the morning, so I felt a pang of disappointment, especially when I saw that Longs Peak’s distinctive summit cap was smothered by cloud cover. I debated whether to continue with the hike, but decided to press on, hoping that the overcast would dissipate somewhat by the time I reached Chasm Lake.

Once I reached Chasm Junction, I stopped to take a breather, eat a few sugar cookies (what can I say?), and guzzle some water. The overcast just to the south & east wasn’t looking at all promising, but there was a good bit of blue sky just above Longs, so I dared to hope that state of affairs would continue for a while. Of course, it lasted just until I reached Chasm Lake and then the hammer dropped.

Anyway, I’m getting a bit ahead of myself. On the way back the Chasm Lake Spur Trail, there were a couple of guys laden with climbing gear ahead of me, and three college-age kids a short distance behind me. When I got up to the patrol cabin at the southwestern edge of Chasm Meadows I saw the two guys had cut off to the left headed for some climbing destination, BUT I figured that if I stalled there by the cabin and let the college kids pass me, I could get a shot of them by the “CHASM LAKE” trail sign that points up the rock wall & ledges you have to negotiate to reach the lake. So that’s what I did. Then I followed them as they started up the broken cliffs. About halfway up, they stopped, and I could tell from their conversation something was wrong, so I asked, “Where is it you guys are heading?” And they said, “Is this the way up to the Keyhole?”

Oh, man… I wish you could’ve seen their faces when I told them they’d taken a wrong turn at Chasm Junction. (At Chasm Junction, you go left for Chasm Lake or right for Longs Peak via the Keyhole Route.) I felt so badly for them. They started back down at that point (I think they were going to backtrack to Chasm Junction and then still try for the summit) and I continued on up to the lake.



By the time I reached the lake, it was starting to sprinkle and visibility was deteriorating rapidly. It was at this point that I met three more college-age kids, this time two Japanese guys and a girl. They stopped me and asked me if I knew how they could get up The Loft Route. They were in sneakers and looked like they were going out to a ball game rather than ready to hike & climb up to The Loft, so I asked them a few questions and found out “a friend” had told them to go up The Loft Route rather than the Keyhole Route. I quickly realized they were pretty clueless as far as what they were getting into, and so—because of their inexperience & because of the weather by that time— I strongly discouraged them from trying The Loft or even heading up that day via the Keyhole. I don’t know whether they took my advice or not. I have a feeling they were still going to try the Keyhole.

Soooo… after they left, I pretty much had the lake all to myself. In the rain. And the swirling fog & mist & clouds. To be honest, conditions were so miserable I could hardly enjoy the stupendous view. I had a really really tough time trying to keep the lens wiped off enough to snap even a few shots. Fun. After probably ten minutes of that, I was more than ready to start back down. So I did.

I wouldn’t mind doing this hike again, in better weather, setting out from the trailhead to be up at the lake at sunrise to hopefully catch some nice alpenglow on Longs Peak’s impressive East Face… maybe with the color reflected in the (perfectly calm) water of the lake? Hey, a guy can wish.



Thanks for reading about stuff I’ve photographed. ~Rich

quandary peak hike

This past Sunday (8/2/09), I hiked up 14,265-foot Quandary Peak in Summit County, Colorado. Quandary was my third 14er. It’s located just south of Breckenridge, along CO 9. The trailhead is very handy to this main highway, so Quandary is one of the more popular 14ers. The peak is located in the 2.3 million acre White River National Forest. WRNF encompasses a huge area of ‘High Country’ in central Colorado and has ten peaks over 14,000 feet within its borders.

I found some conflicting data about this hike. Roach (Colorado’s Fourteeners: From Hikes to Climbs, Second Edition) lists Quandary as a 5.4 mile hike, roundtrip, and has the elevation at the summit as 14,265 feet. The WRNF official website, though, says it’s a 3.11 mile hike, one-way, and that the summit is 14,247 feet. According to the website, the trail starts at 10,917 feet. Regardless of who’s right, it’s a nice hike with a good trail all the way to the summit, and once you get to the top, the view is stupendous.

If you’ve ever checked out Roach’s book, which I’m pretty sure is considered the Bible for climbing 14ers in Colorado, you know that some folks take this whole business of bagging 14ers (there are over fifty) pretty seriously. For example, Roach says:

Purists accept the goal of not only climbing all the fourteeners, but gaining 3,000 feet on each one. This is a much harder goal… For example, consider Lincoln, Democrat, and Bross. Even if you are careful to start 1,000 feet below 12,000 Kite Lake on your initial climb of all three, you have only gained 3,000 feet on one of the three peaks. To gain 3,000 feet on all three, you will have to do this standard climb three times, or do alternate routes to the other two peaks on two more occasions.

Okie dokie.

I have to admit there's something wonderfully satisfying about standing on top of a 14,000-foot mountain that you've climbed under your own power, but I have no desire to climb all the 14ers in Colorado. I’ll be happy doing one or two a summer, but bagging all fifty-five of them just isn’t a goal that interests me. There’s someone that has climbed them all at least ten times. In 1997 a seven-year-old girl completed climbing all of Colorado’s 14ers. Dogs have climbed all the 14ers. Two guys climbed them all in 1995, observing the 3000-foot rule, in less than sixteen days. Good for all of them, but like I said, bagging all the 14ers just isn’t on my list of things to do before I die.

Now maybe if I knew I’d be the very first person to take a Terrible Towel to the summit of each 14er… Hmmmmm.

loch vale, part the second

In her book Rocky Mountain National Park: The Complete Hiking Guide, Lisa Foster says “Of the numerous glacially carved valleys in RMNP, Loch Vale ranks as one of the most scenic and spectacular.” And I agree! I returned to Loch Vale last weekend for my second visit to this gorgeous & wild area of the park. I had hiked up to The Loch last fall, but then was thwarted from going any farther than Timberline Falls by a wicked amount of ice on the trail/cliff at that point. Last weekend, though, I made it all the way up to Sky Pond.

I left the Glacier Gorge Trailhead at 5:10am on Saturday, July 25th. The hike up to The Loch takes you from 9,180 to 10,180 feet and covers 2.9 miles. Along the way you pass popular Alberta Falls, and then after you bear southwest at the trail junction between the Loch Vale & Glacier Gorge Trails, energetic little Icy Brook keeps you company to your left. As I made my way up to The Loch it was getting progressively cloudier… and not big fluffy pretty white clouds, but rather an ominous gray overcast was creeping from west to east across the sky. Stink. It was depressingly gloomy as I approached The Loch, but my spirits immediately lifted when I saw that the water was perfectly calm. Calm water, of course, makes for cool reflection shots, and cool reflection shots are something we crave as landscape photographers, right? I got the shot at the top of the post at the tip of the rocky ‘peninsula’ that juts out from the north side of the lake. The interesting light in the shot came about because the sky right over the lake was completely overcast, but way back to the east the sky was still clear, so that meant the lovely early morning light was able to stream over my shoulder and illuminate the rock face across the way. Neat, huh?

After I got my shots at The Loch, I sat down for a few minutes & ate a chocolate bar while I debated whether to continue on. My plan had been to hike all the way to Sky Pond, but the overcast skies worried me and I didn’t want to get up the trail and get rained on. “Well,” I thought to myself, “if it does rain, you won’t melt will you? C’mon, you big sissy, life is an adventure!” So I decided to press on. Plus, in the back of my mind was the thought that overcast skies sometimes make for the best HDR images, so if the rain held off, I’d have a good chance of getting some interesting shots.

Timberline Falls is a mile beyond The Loch and lies 300 feet higher (10,480 feet). This is a nice easy hike through the forest, but then as you approach the falls, the ascent begins to steepen and will get you huffing & puffing a bit. Just before I got out of the trees, I came upon six or eight female elk on the trail. They were surprised, but didn’t run off. They calmly moved about twenty feet off the trail and then just stood there watching me as I hiked on past them. Cool.

I got a few shots near the base of the falls (above) and then prepared to climb up the next section of the trail. The trail here follows a cleft in the cliff beside Timberline Falls, so at this point you stop hiking and start climbing. When I was there last weekend, this crack in the cliff face was also occupied by runoff from the falls, so it was wet & slippery, making for a sporty little scramble up to Glass Lake. I actually found the climb down these wet rocks a bit more difficult than going up them.

Once you scramble up beside the falls to Glass Lake (10,820 feet), though, you realize it was all worth it. The lake sits on a shelf that is cradled by majestic granite peaks and sheer rock walls (above). But the best, in my opinion, is still to come, because Sky Pond (10,900 feet) is just a short ways beyond Glass Lake. Lisa Foster writes, “The grand mountain scenery of Taylor and Powell Peaks combines with the majesty of the Cathedral Spires to make this a truly special place.” Amen to that!

I actually dropped my cell phone in Sky Pond. I’d hopped out on some rocks at the north end of the pond, and then set up my tripod and camera on one particular rock that was none-too-large. I left the tripod set up at knee-level, to get a perspective right down on the water, and when I sat down on the none-too-large rock to look through the viewfinder, my phone slipped out of the pocket of my cargo shorts and went into the water. Thankfully, the water wasn’t deep at all and I could just reach down and get the phone… and also, thankfully, my phone is not only shatter-proof but it's also water-proof, so it was none the worse for wear. Whew. After that little episode, I hopped a few more rocks over to the east side of the pond and got the shot below of the Cathedral Spires looming dramatically over Sky Pond.

Right after I wrapped up shooting at Sky Pond, it started to sprinkle. Stink. I had visions of the 4.4 mile hike back to the trailhead being a wet one, after all. But it only sprinkled for maybe ten minutes and by the time I was back at the top of Timberline Falls, ready to descend the cliff, the rain had stopped and never started up again on my hike out.

All in all, this was a great great hike and one I heartily recommend. I was back at the trailhead about 10:15am, so it was a five hour trek, which I thought was pretty good considering all the photographing I’d done along the way. Oh, and unlike last week’s hike up Mt Bierstadt, which was a veritable pedestrian highway that I shared with dozens of others (and their dogs, too), I was on the trail for well over three hours on this hike before I ever saw another person (not until I was back below Timberline Falls did I pass two college-age girls going the other way). It was wonderful.

Thanks for reading about stuff I’ve photographed. ~Rich

mt bierstadt hike

Mount Bierstadt (14,060 feet) is considered one of the easier 14ers in Colorado, because of its proximity to Denver & the fact that (except for some boulder-hopping on the final stretch to the summit) it’s a very straightforward hike from the Guanella Pass Trailhead. Starting from the pass, up the west slopes of the mountain, the hike is 6 miles roundtrip, with an elevation gain of 2,77o feet. Although Bierstadt is considered an “easy” 14er, it’s still a 14er, and so should not be taken lightly. All the normal precautions should still be taken when hiking at this altitude.

Getting to the Guanella Pass Trailhead (at least from Georgetown & I-70) was complicated a bit by the construction going on when I made my hike (on 7/18/09), and I think this is scheduled to last until October 2010!, so you might want to check on this before you go (especially on a weekday).

Once you arrive at the trailhead, you can see Bierstadt & the jagged profile of the Sawtooth rising up due east of you. Back in the day it apparently used to be quite the ordeal to force your way through the infamous Bierstadt Willows immediately after leaving the trailhead, but now this stretch of the hike is easy as pie, what with the boardwalks & well-worn trail. (Just remember to save a little gas for this section on the way back, since then it’ll unfortunately be uphill!)

On the way up, there were a few stretches of trail that surprised me with their steepness. You’ll feel it in your calves. I remember thinking, “Guess they don’t believe in switchbacks around here!” On the way down, these sections will cause your quads to burn as you struggle to control the speed of your descent… and you’ll be glad you have some good hiking boots since your toes are squished down to the front of your shoes on the steep grade. (I just gave in to momentum & jogged quite a bit of the way back down to the willows.)

There gets to be a point where the summit (which is in view for most of the hike) just doesn’t seem to be drawing much closer, but keep plugging away & before you know it, you’ll be entering the boulder field & ready for the final push to the summit. Once you start boulder-hopping, you can follow the spine of the ridge all the way up the summit, but the ‘trail’ here actually keeps to the west side of the ridge & is marked with cairns (although you’ll really have to look for them, since they’re wicked hard to see amidst all the boulders).I spent about fifteen or twenty minutes up top, had a chocolate bar, got a summit shot with my Terrible Towel, and was back down at my car in a little under 4 ½ hours (5:50am-10:15am). This was my second 14er (I did Longs Peak last summer) and would like to do one more this year. I’ve kinda got my eye set on Mt Elbert, maybe, next month. Stay tuned!

***

1 hike, 3 hours, 3 lakes

After a long, joyless work week, I decided that a good Saturday morning hike in Rocky Mountain National Park would probably go quite a ways toward restoring my faith in the proposition that life is good. After checking out the weather map, my plan was to be at Dream Lake for sunrise and hopefully catch some calm water, since none of my previous visits to that spot have yielded a decent reflection shot. Also on the itinerary were Nymph Lake (which you pass on the hike to Dream Lake) and Lake Haiyaha, but I’d just play it by ear as far as going up to Haiyaha.

When the alarm went off at 3:00am I was sorely tempted just to shut it off & go back to sleep (I had worked until eleven the night before), but I figured you only live once and so dragged my lazy carcass out of bed. The caffeine-free drive up to the park was uneventful, if a bit bleary-eyed, but I managed to keep the Mini between the lines and arrived at the Bear Lake Trailhead around 4:30am. There were maybe seven or eight other vehicles in the parking lot, including a few skiers getting their gear ready as they prepared to hike up to one of the glaciers (Tyndall, I assume) and have some fun.

After changing into my hiking boots & a quick stop at the potty, I headed out at exactly 4:45am. Sunrise was around 5:40am, so I was looking good. Hiking by headlamp always seems pretty tedious to me, and if you allow your imagination to run wild you start imagining every noise is a mountain lion getting into position to pounce, so thankfully after about fifteen minutes or so, it was light enough to see & I could turn the lamp off and stow it in my pack. Passing Nymph Lake in the darkness, I could tell the surface of the lake was perfectly calm so I dared to hope the same would hold true at Dream Lake when I got up there. The hike up to Dream Lake is a piddly 450 feet in elevation gain, and since the trail is paved (for pete’s sake) until just beyond Nymph Lake, it can be considered a pleasant stroll for anyone in reasonably good health even though you’re at 9,700 feet above sea level.

The best position from which to photograph Dream Lake (in my opinion) is the eastern tip of the lake. Just before reaching the lake, when you get to the Y in the trail (left to Haiyaha, right to Dream & Emerald) take the left, go just a few yards, then leave the trail and head right, cutting through the trees & across the stream until you reach the lakeshore. When I reached that spot shortly before sunrise, there were already two other guys there. Bastards. Just kidding— there’s plenty of room for one & all. Scoping out the wind/water conditions while getting set up, my hope for a cool reflection shot looked like it was about to be fulfilled. Sweet. (see the shot at the top of the post)

When I’d wrapped up shooting at Dream Lake, there still wasn’t a breath of wind, so I decided to head up to Lake Haiyaha. I’d been up there last October, but the water in the small pond next to the lake (where you get a better shot than at the lake itself) was frozen, so I hadn’t been terribly happy with the shot I’d come away with on that occasion. So this morning, I figured that if I could get there before the wind kicked up, I stood a decent chance of capturing a nice reflection of Hallett Peak in the rocky little pond.

Let me tell you, wanting to catch that reflection, I hustled from Dream up to Haiyaha. (Okay, I did stop once to get a shot of Longs Peak & also snap a few shots of the layered ridgelines off to the east.) The hike from Dream to Haiyaha is a bit more of a workout than the section from Bear to Dream. From Dream Lake, you only gain 320 feet in elevation but most of that is in the one big switchback right after you leave Dream and it’ll get your heart pumping. The trail levels out just about where you start to have magnificent views of Glacier Gorge & Longs Peak across the way, and the remainder of the hike to Haiyaha is easy going.

There still wasn’t a breath of wind when I reached the pond next to Haiyaha, so I got the shot I’d wanted at that spot (see below). I’m surprised, though, that I got a clear shot, what with the clouds of voracious mosquitoes. I had applied a liberal amount of Deep Woods OFF before leaving the car, but it didn’t seem to make a lick of difference to those bloodthirsty little fascists. They were literally all over every square inch of exposed flesh. Yuck. I could hardly stand it long enough to grab a horizontal & a vertical shot, and then I beat a hasty retreat.

On the hike out, I stopped at lovely Nymph Lake with its multitude of lily pads and snagged some nice shots (below). Once again, I was happy to find a splendid reflection, since my previous visits to this spot had yielded distinctly substandard images.

Nymph is just a hop, skip, & jump from the trailhead, so I was back at the Mini in short order. In just under three hours, I had hit three scenic mountain lakes… and was headed out of the park before most of the tourists were even up & around yet. All in all, well worth the 3am wake up time!

On the drive down Bear Lake Road, I had to stop so a mule deer & her twin fawns could cross the road in front of me. I said a silent prayer, thanking God for that sweet exclamation point to a wonderful morning in Rocky Mountain National Park. Life is good indeed.

Thanks for reading about stuff I’ve photographed. ~Rich

stopping to smell the wildflowers

There's beauty all around us, but how often— in the midst of our oh so busy lives— do we take the time to notice it?

In 2007, the Washington Post decided to conduct an experiment. They’d enlist the help of Joshua Bell, the best classical musician in America. Bell, along with his $3.5 million Stradivari violin, would serenade rush hour commuters at a Washington DC metro station. But those oh so busy commuters wouldn’t know it was THE Joshua Bell playing for them; he would simply be an anonymous young man in baseball cap & jeans standing over against the wall, with his open case at his feet. Joshua Bell, one of the finest violinists in the world, would be busking at a DC metro station during morning rush hour.

It was all recorded on a hidden video camera. For 43 minutes, Bell played six classical pieces. During that time, 1,o97 people passed by. Seven of them stopped to listen, at least for a minute. Twenty-seven people, most hurrying by without stopping, put $32.17 in Bell’s violin case.

Well over 1000 people rushed by without even glancing in Joshua Bell’s direction. There’s a video on the Post’s website, you can check it out. It’s painful to watch. Men, women, white, black, coming, going… they were all too busy, in too much of a hurry to take note of the beauty there in their midst.

(Interestingly, every member of one group, without fail, took notice of Bell. Every child walking by gave Bell their undivided attention, and every child, without fail, was quickly hustled away by the adult who was accompanying them.)

When we fail to notice the beauty around us, we become strangers to the world we live in— and we become strangers to ourselves. It requires effort and great attentiveness to notice the beauty all around us. But it’s worth the effort. Each moment of beauty that speaks to the deepest places in our hearts is a new beginning, a unique opportunity for our lives to be renewed and expanded. Those moments of beauty breathe new life into us.

Without those moments of beauty we’re simply strangers, rushing by. Always rushing. And never truly getting anywhere.

close encounters of the bison kind

As you drive back Antelope Flats Road in Grand Teton National Park you pass a warning sign alongside the road. The sign has the silhouette of a buffalo on it and warns you not to approach wildlife. Upon entering the park, you also receive the flyer you see to the left, warning you not to approach buffalo. But what happens when the buffalo approach you? Both of the mornings I spent at Mormon Row, photographing the Moulton barns, I had close encounters of the bison kind.

Morning #1: I arrived at the John Moulton Homestead to shoot the barn there at sunrise. There were four guys there already, all friends who had arrived together. After I set up tripod & camera, we chatted while waiting for the sun to break the horizon at our backs and illuminate the barn with that sweet first light of morning. As we talked, we watched a big bull buffalo drift slowly over from the direction of Antelope Flats Road, then mosey along in front of the pink house, then start to angle over toward us. Hmmm. It didn’t escape our notice that all that was between us & him was the piddling little irrigation ditch. Thankfully, just as we started to get fidgety & discuss possible avenues of retreat, the bull stopped in a little clump of trees just to the left of the barn. And there he stayed, eyeballing us, until we had finished shooting and took the long way around back to our cars.

Morning #2: I was back on Mormon Row, this time at the southern barn (Thomas A. Moulton Homestead) to photograph at sunrise. This time I was the first to arrive. As I scouted camera angles, I noticed a small herd of buffalo, about a dozen animals, a quarter of a mile down the meadow to the left of the barn. It was about fifteen minutes before anyone else showed up—a lady & a guy from a photo workshop, and then a college-age girl from Lancaster, PA (a fellow Pennsylvanian!). I had set up by the boards crossing the irrigation ditch up in the corner of the field by the road, and the photo workshop folks set up a little ways over to my right. The girl from Lancaster & I chatted about Pennsylvania stuff, and we all waited for first light to hit the barn.

Meanwhile—yes, you guessed it—the herd of buffalo was slowly but surely moving up the field toward us. Closer. Closer. Hmmm. The photo workshop lady quickly packed up her equipment and got in their car. The guy looked like he wanted to duck back to the car also, but was watching to see what the Lancaster girl & I would do. What did we do? Brilliantly, we huddled behind two trees, away from the herd, who had now stopped twenty-five feet away and were just standing there looking at us. There was one bull with them who was HUGE. Maybe the same fellow from the morning before. Maybe he enjoys spending his mornings terrorizing photographers. Anyway, when you’re that close to a herd of bison with just a tree in between you & them, you’re suddenly, uneasily, fearfully aware of how large & pointy their horns are. It was all I could think about. “Dang, those horns look sharp!” must’ve run through my mind a thousand times.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably just a few minutes, the herd started to drift back down the field away from us. They made up for scaring us half to death by crossing over in front of the barn and providing us with some cool shots. The big bull was the last to cross over the ditch and then amble in front of the barn.

So those were my two mornings on Mormon Row photographing the Moulton barns. Let me tell you, starting your day off with close encounters of the bison kind will wake you up better than any cup of Starbucks coffee!

Thanks for reading about stuff I’ve photographed. ~ Rich

why i like the doing of it myself

If my vacation photos are the reason I’m going on vacation, what exactly do I gain by heading for (what I’m reasonably certain are) two of the most photographed national parks in the country? From Ansel Adams’ famous Snake River shot in 1942 to some anonymous tourist’s pic of Old Faithful taken last week, Grand Teton and Yellowstone have been photographed ad nauseam. Why waste my time beating a dead horse? Why not just go sit on a beach for a week instead?

Okay, so even if I went to the beach for a week, I’d still be snapping photos every chance I had, so what’s wrong with me?

I think I just like the doing of it myself. When I go somewhere, whether it’s Boulder Creek or the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone, it’s not to imitate the photographs of others, but to fully embrace my own personal experience of the place. I go to accept nature’s invitation to draw away and, outside under the open sky, look beyond the boundaries of my own existence.

Photography, for me, is a creative contact with nature. It’s the passionate pursuit of this contact that calls me forward, always forward, to the next photograph. Hidden in each photograph is a new experience. And each new experience gives me a chance to celebrate the gift of being alive.

I must admit, there’s a certain restlessness in this pursuit of the next photograph, the next new experience. I think that’s because deep within each of us there’s a desire to celebrate the gift of life, and we’re always searching for some endeavor that will allow us to do that with every part of our true self. For some, that may be needlepoint or skydiving or gardening or rock climbing. But for me, it’s being outside with a camera.

So why am I heading for (what I’m reasonably certain are) two of the most photographed national parks in the country? Because it’s not just about the photographs I’ll bring back; it’s also about the experience those photographs will represent. That’s why I can never be content just looking at someone else’s pictures of a place. No, I like the doing of it myself.

bear lake to trail ridge road

I’d set the alarm for 3:45am, but I woke up about fifteen minutes before that, so I decided to just go ahead and roll out of bed. A bite of breakfast, wash my face, check I have all my gear, and I’m out the door a few minutes before 4.

No traffic to speak of on US-36 W (Boulder Turnpike), and very quickly I was rolling through Boulder. Twelve stoplights. A couple of times, I’ve zipped right through, no red lights. This morning I hit one. Still, in no time at all, I was blowing out the north end of town, heading for Lyons.

Heading north out of Boulder, I noticed the sky was beginning to lighten just a bit over in the direction of Longmont (home of PBR rider, Kody Lostroh). In short order, I arrived at the little burg of Lyons and, remembering they’re serious about their 25 mph speed limit, I geared down, even though it was 4:30am and not a creature was stirring.

Exiting Lyons, I felt an irrepressible smile begin to creep onto my face. There are very few things in life more fun than zipping up the winding road from Lyons to Estes Park in a Mini when there’s no one else out & about. I just always pray I don’t come cooking around a corner and find a mule deer standing in the road.

No deer (or elk) apparently want to be a hood ornament on this particular morning and I passed through the Beaver Meadows Entrance Station of Rocky Mountain National Park at exactly 5am. My plan was to be at Bear Lake for sunrise and I was right on schedule.

Up at the end of Bear Lake Road, I found four or five other vehicles in the parking lot, but to my surprise I had the lake all to myself. Especially on summer weekends, there are always a few other early bird photographers scattered around the shoreline, but not this morning. I found some rocks on the north shore of the lake to use as foreground & set up a composition that included Longs Peak over across the way. Still no one else around. Cool. There’s no breathtaking alpenglow accompanying the sun’s climb over the horizon, no pastel colored clouds heralding the dawn of this new day… but I have Bear Lake all to myself and suddenly this is no ordinary sunrise, it’s a private performance God is putting on just for me. Thanks, God.

When I planned my trip to the park, I had toyed with the idea of hiking up to Bierstadt Lake from Bear Lake, but after spending about forty minutes photographing at Bear Lake, I decided to ditch the hike and instead go back to the car & head over to Trail Ridge Road and see what was what.

On my way back down Bear Lake Road, I stopped at Moraine Park. Moraine Park is the large, wide-open meadow along the Big Thompson River & Cub Creek. It’s kind of confusing to call it a “park” since it’s in RMNP, but apparently it was a late addition to RMNP and retained its name. So it’s a park within The Park. While wandering around Moraine, I met a nice guy (even though he was shooting with a Nikon) from Indiana. He pulled up a shot on his LCD of a big bull elk he’d photographed the evening before as it was crossing the Big Thompson. It was a great shot, with the snow-capped mountains in the background. I couldn’t help but think, “Man! I’ve been up here two dozen times and never got a shot like that & this guy is here one day and hits the jackpot. Grrr.” Let it go, Rich. Let it go.

After shooting some trees in Moraine (I like trees), I headed for Trail Ridge Road. If you’ve never been up Trail Ridge Road, it’s incredible. It’s the highest continuous paved road in the U.S. (12,183 ft). Trail Ridge traverses RMNP from east to west, from Estes Park to Grand Lake, crossing the Continental Divide at Milner Pass. It’ll take you up above treeline and into the starkly beautiful alpine tundra where it’s like you’ve entered a whole other world. The mountain views all along the road are spectacular. When you visit Rocky Mountain National Park, you must drive up Trail Ridge Road. (Note: The road is closed each year from about mid-October to Memorial Day weekend.) Stop at all the overlooks. Hike up Heart Attack Hill above the Alpine Visitor Center at Fall River Pass. Check out the Tundra World Nature Trail above the Rock Cut Parking Area. Take it all in and you’ll be treated to views you’ll never forget.

Thanks for reading about stuff I’ve photographed. ~Rich

anne u. white trail

My Best Boulder Region Hiking Trails (by Bette Erickson) book says, “Access to the short and easy Anne Underwood White Trail in Fourmile Canyon Creek Park is easy to miss because of its tucked-away location.” Very true. Finding the trailhead is more difficult than the hike.

The Anne U. White Trail is located in the Front Range foothills northwest of Boulder. To get to it, take Broadway north to Lee Hill Road. Take a left and in just a tick over a mile, watch for Wagonwheel Gap Road on your left. (If you go to where the road Y’s with Old Stage Road, you’ve gone too far. This is what I did.) Once you are on Wagonwheel Gap Rd, go exactly one mile and watch for a dirt road on your left. This is the road back to the trailhead, but it isn’t marked as such in any way, shape, or form. The short dirt road dead-ends at the trailhead. There are only three parking spaces at the trailhead, and there are NO PARKING signs every ten feet along the dirt road, so you’ll either have to get there early, be lucky, or park out on Wagonwheel Gap Rd.

The trailhead lies at 6,040 feet and the highest point on the trail is 6,600 feet, so there’s minimal elevation gain. The trail twists and turns, following Fourmile Canyon Creek for 1.5 miles before dead-ending at private property. Out and back, you supposedly cross the creek a grand total of twenty-two times, but what with stopping often to take photos, I lost count. Don’t worry about wearing your waterproof boots, though, as there are stepping stones at each crossing.

Although there are no grand vistas to behold along the Anne U. White Trail (since you stay down in the canyon, following the creek), this is a surprisingly lush, forested area and you’ll be treated to much more green than you’ll find on most trails around Boulder. It actually reminded me of hiking back home in Pennsylvania.

There are many small cascades & waterfalls along the trail. Near the end of the trail, there’s a lovely little set of falls and a large pool that is kind of a zen spot & a nice photo op. It’s the spot pictured below.

All in all, this is a pleasant trail and is a great, short hike if you have a family, or aren’t up to tackling trails with more dramatic elevation gain, or are just looking for something off-the-beaten-path but still close to Boulder.

Thanks for reading about stuff I’ve photographed. ~Rich

ouzel falls hike

date of activity: May 17, 2009

Ouzel Falls is located in the southeastern part of Rocky Mountain National Park. This beautiful region of the park is known as Wild Basin. This section of RMNP sees far fewer visitors than the more popular parts of the park accessed by the two main entrances at Estes Park and Grand Lake. I imagine this has a lot to do with two things: (1) To get to the Wild Basin Trailhead you have to drive a couple of miles back a one lane dirt road, and (2) Going to Wild Basin means you’re going to have to get out of your car & hike somewhere, rather than just tooling around in your car gawking at the scenery and elk.

The Wild Basin Trailhead lies at 8,500 feet and is 12.5 miles south of Estes Park on CO 7 (Peak to Peak Highway). After you go through the entrance station, you’ll pass Copeland Lake on your right. I’d heard that you can get some nice shots of Copeland Mountain reflected in the lake, but when I was there last weekend, Copeland Lake looked pretty ghastly. It looked like it was only about half-full, which really surprised me since I would’ve thought it’d be filled to the brim from spring snowmelt. I found out later, though, that the city of Longmont, way down yonder on the dry & dusty plains, owns the lake and sometimes draws the water down quite a bit.

This was my first visit to Wild Basin and I only went an easy 2.7 miles up the Thunder Lake Trail to Ouzel Falls. The trail up to the falls is super nice and not at all rocky or terribly steep like some other trails in the park. In fact, if it wasn’t for the snow & ice that were still on some sections of the trail a bit higher up, I’d classify this hike as a pleasant stroll.

Just a short quarter-mile or so up the trail, you’ll come across signs directing you off to the left to Upper & Lower Copeland Falls. Neither set of falls is really anything to write home about. They’re just a couple of steep drops in North St. Vrain Creek. I did take a couple of shots of Upper Copeland Falls, but they didn’t come out very well due to the high contrast between areas of deep shade & bright sunlight. Probably the best photos here would need some overcast to even out the light.

About two miles up the trail, you’ll find Calypso Cascades (9,280 feet). Cony Creek tumbles 200 feet down the steep hillside, slaloming between boulders & fallen trees. Unfortunately, getting a good shot here beneath the trees was also complicated by areas of deep shade & bright sunlight.

Less than a mile from Calypso Cascades, you’ll reach Ouzel Falls (9,460 feet). The trail crosses Ouzel Creek on a small wooden bridge below the falls. From the bridge, you can see the 50 foot waterfall, sitting back the creek a little ways. To get closer to the action, you’ll need to leave the trail and follow the left side of the creek up the hillside to the base of the falls. When I was there, spring snowmelt was really pumping up the volume of water plunging over the five-story drop. The jumble of large boulders right around the base of the falls complicates the attempt to find scenic compositions. The close terrain & the trees don’t really allow you the option of “backing up” and trying to find a pretty shot of the falls from anywhere farther back. My best shot was taken from a large, flat boulder that juts up on the eastern side of the falls, immediately next to the creek rushing by on the right.

Although I only went as far as Ouzel Falls on this hike, I look forward to many return visits to this beautiful part of RMNP, when I’ll go farther in & higher up into Wild Basin.

Thanks for reading about stuff I’ve photographed. ~Rich

great sand dunes national park

date of visit: May 9 & 10, 2009

Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve, located in the San Luis Valley of southern Colorado, is one of the more astonishing places in a state that has no shortage of amazing scenery. Great Sand Dunes promotes itself as “one of the world’s most diverse national parks,” and it’s hard to argue with that claim. The park includes 13,000 foot mountain summits, alpine tundra, forests, grasslands, wetlands, and—of course—the tallest sand dunes in North America. There’s also an abundance of wildlife. You’re almost guaranteed to see mule deer and pronghorn, while a bit higher up you might see elk or even a black bear.

The majestic sand dunes are the centerpiece of the park. They are the tallest (Star Dune tops out at 750 feet high) and highest (over 8000 feet above sea level) dunes in North America. Nestled as they are at the foot of the Sangre de Cristo Mountain Range, they’re a sight to behold.
Medano Creek is an unusual feature at the edge of the dune field. Fed by spring and early summer snowmelt, the creek flows around the eastern base of the dunes. You must slosh through the creek to get over to the dune field, so it’s a good thing the water is (mostly) just 1-3” deep in shallow, shifting, braided channels. One very cool aspect of the creek is a phenomenon called “surge flow,” where waves of water come pulsing down the creek pretty frequently.

For the best photography, Great Sand Dunes is definitely a morning & evening place. This is when the soft, direct light of sunrise & sunset will sidelight the dunes, casting contrasting shadows and accentuating the sinuous curves of the dunes. I had a very short period of good light on the morning (Sunday) I was at the park, but I was disappointed the previous evening (Saturday) when heavy overcast rolled over the area several hours before sunset. Ah, well… what can you do?

As you enter the park, you can stop and get a shot of the standard “official” Great Sand Dunes sign, which will be on your right… but immediately after you pass the sign, watch for a small pull-off on your left (just large enough for three or so cars). If you park here and then walk just a short ways down onto the plain, you’ll be able to get a killer shot with a small tree in the foreground, the grasslands in the middle distance, and then the dunes and mountain peaks in the far distance. You’ll see what I mean when you’re there, as there is no mistaking this spot. As you might guess, it’s best to use a long lens (I used my 70-300) to compress the distance between all the cool features in this composition. I absolutely hate that during my visit I was never able to catch any good light on the dunes for this shot, but I hope that you do.

There are also some other good panoramic shots to be had down near the park’s visitor center. Just before the center, there’s another of those small pull-offs on the left side of the road. You can park here and hike a short ways down into the grassland, toward the creek bed and dune field, watching for interesting compositions (this is where I went just after sunrise). Or you can just go down to the visitor center parking lot, as there are some trails out behind the center that are worth exploring (this is where I was for sunrise). These trails lead down toward the creek or out to vantage points in the grassland where you get some great views of the dunes and mountains.

I’ve already mentioned Medano Creek, and there are some neat shots to be had here along the creek bed. I got a few shots along the eastern bank of the creek, but my best shot came from stopping midway across the creek and setting up my tripod right there. This can be tricky, trying to juggle camera gear, backpack, & tripod while out in the middle of the creek, so I suggest you do as much preparation as you can before you actually head out into the water. Also, your tripod legs will begin to sink rapidly in the sand and flowing water, so just expect this to happen and compensate for it. And, hey, standing in the middle of a creek bed with camera & tripod will make you look like quite the heroic landscape photographer! Or a nut, which is probably closer to the truth. :-)

Once you’re out in the dune field, numerous compositions will begin to present themselves. Keep your eyes open, constantly scanning around, and just go for it. One word of caution: hiking up & down sand dunes that are hundreds of feet high when you’re at 8000 feet above sea level is exercise. Take water. I had on my hiking boots, but I saw numerous people walking around barefoot. I don’t know if I’d recommend this, as I’d hate to step on something in the sand & cut my foot, and be a mile and a half out in the dune field. Anyway, I went about halfway up High Dune on Saturday afternoon before the increasingly ominous clouds & then spitting rain convinced me to turn back. And on Sunday morning I didn’t even bother to attempt it again, since solid overcast started to roll in again shortly after sunrise. I was very disappointed with all this, but I guess I now have something to look forward to with a return visit in the future.

Unless you are camping at the park, I suggest you stay in Alamosa, which—although 35 miles away from the park—is the nearest civilization. “Civilization,” of course, being defined as having a Wal-Mart, fast food restaurants, and convenience store gas stations. And there are chain motels there, as well.

Thanks for reading about stuff I’ve photographed. ~Rich

boulder falls

date of activity: April 25, 2009

Last Saturday was a very misty, drizzly day and so I ran over to Chautauqua Park in Boulder, thinking the Flatirons might look pretty cool in the fog. But once I got over to the park, visibility was so poor, I couldn’t even see the Flatirons! Quickly coming up with Plan B, I decided to head up to Boulder Falls and check out what was going on there.

To get to Boulder Falls, you start off west on Canyon Blvd, which turns into Hwy 119 as you wind your way up Boulder Canyon. About ten or so miles later, you arrive at the parking area for the falls (on your left). After you park, be careful crossing the road to get over to the trailhead. Once you descend the steps cut into the stone, a short hike back a rocky trail in a side canyon will take you to the seventy-foot waterfall.

As I crossed the road, I noticed the trailhead signboard was covered with warnings saying things like, “NO TRESPASSING” and “BOULDER FALLS CLOSED DUE TO ROCK SLIDES.” Man, c’mon, are you serious?!? Walking over to the entrance to the trail, I saw they were indeed serious. There were yet more of the ominous signs, along with metal construction-type fence and yellow police tape blocking off access to the rock steps leading down into the side canyon. Geez.

But I could see back the side canyon and could tell the falls were really rockin’, so… I ignored the signs, hopped the fence, and headed back the trail. The rocky trail was pretty slick because of the rain, but I didn’t see why they had the trailhead closed off. Maybe there were some rock slides the weekend before, after all the rain & snow then. I dunno.

Once you get back nearer to the waterfall, there are signs telling you not to go down below the observation area (where I took the photo at the top of the post), but down below is where you will get the good photographs. Just be very careful the closer you get to the water, especially when the creek is a raging torrent like it was last Saturday. Down next to the creek is where I got the two shots below.

The nature of the scene made a vertical composition work best. And I wanted to use the Canon 10-22 wide angle lens to best advantage, so I left the tripod at knee level and got right down close to the rocks in the foreground, while still able to get the misty background above the falls in the shot. After I got the shot with the rocks, I wanted to get another shot with the tree trunk (Ponderosa Pine?) as part of the composition. I really liked the color & texture of that tree trunk. So I framed a shot where the tree trunk would block off the left side of the frame, allowing the water in the stream to "bounce off" the tree and then flow out the other, open side. The final image looks just like I visualized, so I’m very pleased with the shot.

Just a final note: With all the rain & melting snow lately, the falls were really rockin’ last weekend, presenting an incredibly raw & powerful scene, but if you go later in the spring or in the summer, Boulder Falls actually turns into a bit of a twin waterfalls (like in the shot below, from last year), which is very lovely.

Thanks for reading about stuff I’ve photographed. ~Rich

thanks, grandpa

“Photography was never simply a hobby or a profession for me. Once I began taking pictures, it became an integral part of my life.” Galen Rowell in Mountain Light

(It’s not as if it wasn’t obvious before this, but…) The degree to which photography has become an integral part of my life was brought home to me recently when I flew back to Pennsylvania to visit family. My carry-on luggage was my Tamrac camera backpack (with two cameras & three lenses), and my greatest concern about my suitcase was whether my tripod would fit into it. It did.

I like to think that I came by my passion for photography honestly, since my Grandpa Berty was quite the avid amateur photographer. Maybe there’s a photography gene that got passed along to me. I’ve had one of my grandfather’s old cameras for a while now (a venerable Canon AE-1), and when I returned to Colorado from this most recent visit home, I was able to bring another one of his cameras with me… a top-of-the-line Kodak Instamatic Reflex, made in Germany, with Schneider-Kreuznach 50mm & 135mm lenses. Cool.

While I was home in PA, my family got together to celebrate my grandpa’s 91st birthday. I know, Wow! As he was opening gifts and I had my camera in hand, snapping some shots of the celebration, I couldn’t help but say a silent thanks for the priceless gift he had passed along to me: a love for photography and a passion for looking at life through the lens of a camera.

My grandfather loved to photograph flowers. Below is a photo he shot of flowers at his home in Falls Creek, PA (if you’re a local, properly pronounced “false crick”) and then below it is a photo I took at Phipps Conservatory in Pittsburgh during my visit home.

Thanks, Grandpa.