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