Nov 1 2023

No Outlet? No Problem

No Outlet sign on the road into San Miguel Ridges Recreation Area in southwest Colorado. — *“No Outlet” sign on the road into San Miguel Ledges.*

So with the fall colors up high seemingly over with, I set my sights on lower elevations.

At the townsite of Pinon I turned off onto the road into the Bureau of Land Management’s San Miguel Ledges Recreation Area.

View from the San Miguel River bridge at Pinon, Colorado. — *San Miguel River bridge at Pinon.*

I had been in there several times but this time somehow I wasn’t expecting to see much new. As usual, I was an idiot for assuming. Because it was amazing.

Early on was a traffic sign advising “No Outlet”. Meaning you would come to a dead end and have to turn around and come back out the way you came in.

Cottonwood trees with fall colors, near Pinon, Colorado. — *Towering Cottonwood trees in full autumn glory.*

There were many deciduous trees and shrubs in full fall glory on that perfect autumn day. Including the wild apricot trees that had been growing since the settlers had lived there. And which I had picked a few months earlier. They were small but sweet.

*Cottonwood trees along the San Miguel River.*

Since it’s such a little known area, I only encountered a couple of vehicles, allowing me to slam on the brakes at will to take another shot or ten.

But much closer to the ground there was a lot more color.

*Gambel Oak, commonly called scrub oak or oakbrush.*

It’s called San Miguel Ledges Recreation Area because it parallels the San Miguel River as it exits one of its canyons that is otherwise inaccessible except by river running.

Returning to old Highway 90, I decided to go higher. But that is for another blog post on here.

Oct 11 2023

A Perfect Aspen Stand on Last Dollar Road

I drove out Last Dollar Road on a perfect October day. I had to stop a number of times for photos, but I had one last spot on the road in mind.

And there it was. There were two other parties of photographers already there, one with his camera on a tripod, meaning he was serious.

There were also two young guys from Denver, Chris and Mike. I got to talking with them while taking some shots down to the right of the road while the first photographer finished up and got back in his 4Runner and drove on.

It was a perfect Indian Summer kind of day there on the Western Slope of Colorado: Warm sunny days and chilly but not freezing nights. It had been an ideal summer for plant growth, and now the fall was progressing slowly, taking its time. Just right for fall colors.

I asked the Denver photographers if they had ever been here before. They said no, this was their first time in the Telluride area. Mike asked me, “Have you been to this spot before?”. I said yes, last summer, and when I saw it I said to myself: “I’m coming back here for fall colors!”. “And today here you are!” said Mike.

They asked me if I lived around there. I said, yes, about an hour west of here. And since they were new to the area I gave them some tips on where to shoot next.

And to stop by Society Conoco station on the highway outside of Telluride for the restroom, snacks, deli sandwiches hot and cold, and slices of pizza. Ya gotta stay fortified if you’re going to be out enjoying nature, especially doing photography.

Then I was back on my way, because I had a lot more photos to take on that incredible day.

Aug 28 2023

Fall Colors at Sipapu Natural Bridge

*Sipapu Natural Bridge and fall colors.*

Sipapu Natural Bridge at Natural Bridges National Monument in southeast Utah is now considered to be the sixth longest natural bridge in the world. It used to be listed as the fourth largest natural bridge, but a laser measurement in 2007 indicated that the span (the width of the opening) is 255 feet / 78 m, demoting it to sixth, after Rainbow Bridge (also in Utah) and four bridges in China.

A natural bridge is a relatively rare kind of arch, in that it was formed by running water wearing away at the side of the sandstone fin until finally it wore a hole for the stream to go through rather than around it.

No matter. It’s massive and awesome, sitting in the bottom of White Canyon. A strenuous but well laid out trail to the bottom has ever more impressive views along the way.

*Cottonwood tree underneath Sipapu Bridge.*

While down at the bottom you can hike downstream on a trail to Kachina Natural Bridge, and even on to the third bridge, Owachomo. Or you can walk upstream where there is no trail but it’s pretty easy meandering.

*Oakbrush (Gambel Oak, Quercus gambelii) in fall colors, with a cottonwood sapling that is still green.*

*Sipapu Bridge, from the trail down from the rim.*

*Single-leaf ash (Fraxinus anomala) fall colors in White Canyon.*

A surprising little tree in the canyons is Single-leaf ash. It’s in the same family as the familiar ash shade trees in cities and towns. I supposed the scientific name anomala is from the word anomaly, “something that deviates from what is standard, normal, or expected”. Yeah.

*Fall at Sipapu Natural Bridge, from streamside.*

The strenuous part of the hike, of course, is going back up to the parking lot.

Jul 9 2023

Colorado High Country Wildflowers

Most of these wildflower photos were taken in a single spot on a single morning in the San Juan Mountains of southwest Colorado. So many choices … it almost wasn’t fair.

My goal became to get all the colors in a single composition: yellow, red, blue or purple, white, and of course the green of the foliage. But it also had to be a good composition, not a lousy one. No bad composition to try and cheat your way to winning. Harder than you may think. But I had nothing better to do at the time anyway.

So let’s get to it.

Mule's Ears and Silvery Lupine, Ouray County, Colorado. — **Mule’s Ears**, *Wyethia amplexicaulis* and **Silvery or Common Lupine**, *Lupinus argenteus*, Ouray County. There are about 600 species of lupine in North America and many hybridize, so good luck with positive identification. Domesticated animals generally avoid eating Mule’s Ears, so ranchers consider it a pest plant. Deer and bear eat the early springtime plants, they don’t care.

**Harebell** or **Bluebell**, *Campanula rotundifolia*. A native perennial. The drooping blossoms are engineered for pollination by larger insects, which are strong enough to cling to the flowers. No little insects need apply. Although it looks like it wouldn’t be that hard for them, either.

**Smooth Blue Aster**, *Symphyotrichum laeve* (foreground). Not to be outdone is something yellow in the background, waiting its turn for attention. Perhaps **Goldeneye**, *Heliomeris multiflora*. I can’t tell from here.

**Alpine Sunflower**, *Tetraneuris grandiflora*. Also called **Old-Man-of-the-Mountain**, **Sun God**, or **Compass Flower**. *Grandiflora* means “large flowered”. A native perennial.

**Alpine Paintbrush**, *Castilleja puberula*. Also called Shortflower Indian Paintbrush. Paintbrushes are semi-parasitic, joining roots with neighboring plants to absorb nutrients. Shame on them.

**Fireweed**, *Chamerion angustifolium*. Fireweed is one of the first plants to come in after a forest fire. They help to quickly stabilize bare soil.

**Geranium** spp. Probably **Sticky Purple Geranium**, *Geranium viscossimum*, or **Pinewoods Geranium**, *Geranium caespitosum*. Geraniums hybridize, so who knows? That lets me off the hook.

**Alpine Sunflower,** *Tetraneuris grandiflora*. Again. This one was probably a bit past its prime, but I like it anyway. It reminds me of the leaves of one of my unruly houseplants.

**Bigelow Tansy-aster**, *Machaeranthera bigelovii.* Trying to elbow its way into the photo back there appears to be **Goldeneye**, *Heliomeris multiflora*. Not to be left out is another yellow flower at upper right, but I don’t know what it is.

**Oxeye Daisy** or **Common Daisy**, *Leucanthemum vulgare*. Or possibly **Scentless Chamomile**, *Matricaria perforata*. Both species are non-native. This just goes to show you that you should always take an accompanying photo of the plant’s foliage and stem to nail the identification. But with so many eye-popping wildflowers in one location I had to keep moving. The kid in the candy store, you know.

**Goldeneye**, *Heliomeris multiflora*. A native perennial. Another common name is **Sunspots**. *Helio* in the genus name is the Greek word for “sun”. So now you just learned some Greek.

I can’t identify this gem, but I include it in this post because I like it. Tiny and beautiful.

**Alpine Yarrow**, *Achillea millefolium alpicola*. Or maybe **Common Yarrow**, *Achillea millefolium*. In this photo I can’t see the leaves well enough to tell. The genus name *Achillea* comes from the legend that Achilles used the plant to slow bleeding during the Trojan War. So if you’re ever in battle in the mountains of Colorado, keep an eye out for this plant.

****Bigelow Tansy-aster**, *Machaeranthera bigelovii*** (again). You noticed, didn’t you? It gets this shot all to itself instead of having another showy species trying to hog the limelight.

So where is the “winning” shot with all the colors? Stay tuned….

All photos © Copyright Stephen J. Krieg

Reference: Wildflowers of Colorado Field Guide by Don Mammoser with Stan Tekiela. A gorgeous little book.

Jul 8 2023

Lizard Head Peak, Colorado (B&W)

Lizard Head Peak, Colorado. Black and White image.

Lizard Head Peak is in the San Miguel Mountain range on the Uncompahgre National Forest in southwest Colorado. It lies south of the high country town of Ophir, Colorado and is within the (appropriately named) Lizard Head Wilderness.

The distinctive rock spire is considered to be one of the most difficult to climb in Colorado. The core is surrounded by rotten “tuffs” of rock that loosen easily and tumble down with little help from a climber.

The summit of the peak is 13,113 feet in elevation / 2,997 meters.

When I first saw it I tried to imagine how or why it seemed to look like a lizard’s head. Maybe the “lizard” is lying on its back and the spire is the extended tongue?

Nah. There was a landslide in 1911 that changed the shape a lot. People living near Ophir heard it occurring during the night, wondering if it was an earthquake. Millions of tons of rock came crashing down in a few minutes. So what used to resemble a lizard’s head was left with the spire that looks like a reptile’s tongue. At least to me.

Apr 17 2023

Trout Lake In Glorious Black and White

Trout Lake, Colorado on a calm November day.

Trout Lake is south of Telluride and Ophir and a little bit north of Lizard Head Pass on Colorado Highway 145. It’s in San Miguel County and surrounded by the Uncompahgre National Forest.

I have photographed it in all seasons. This image was made in November of 2017. The lake was low because it’s the end of the summer season. I was fortunate enough that most of the water’s surface was calm, to act as a mirror.

Mar 14 2023

Lone Cone Peak, Colorado Winter Sunset

March 13 at Nucla Hill on the West End of Montrose County. I was hoping for sunset afterglow on the snowy peaks. I was disappointed in that regard, but the evening clouds and sky made it well worth it anyway.

Looking north to the snowy south face of the Uncompahgre Plateau:

The Uncompahgre Plateau, north of Nucla.

No sunset afterglow, just some nice warm colors on Lone Cone at sunset.

Apr 8 2023

Moonset: What Goes Up…

I returned to the lake the morning after the Full Moon. It was time for moonset, the moon setting over the Abajo Mountains near Monticello, Utah.

Moon setting over the Abajo (or Blue) Mountains, Utah.

And yes, I caught trout from the lake.

Apr 6 2023

Of Full Moons Past

Last night was the Full Moon, but clouds prevented me from making a decent photograph.

So I went to my files and selected some favorite images of past Full Moons from Colorado and Utah.

Full moon rising over the Rocky Mountains in Colorado. — The nearly Full moon rising over the high peaks as seen from Trout Lake, Colorado.

Full Moon from Lizard Head Pass, Colorado. January 2018.

Moonrise over the La Sal Mountains, Utah. 2015.

Moonrise at Sunset, from Trout Lake, Colorado. December 2018.

The March “Worm Moon” rising above the Uncompahgre Plateau, Colorado.

Mar 21 2019

Vernal Equinox Moonrise and Tree Planting

Bareroot tree seedlings shipped from the nursery.

March 20 was the Vernal (Spring) Equinox in North America, and the Full Moon as well. Some traditions call the March Full Moon the “Worm Moon”, because in many climates the frost is gone from the ground and so earthworms return to the surface after another long winter. They sure have in my yard here on the Western Slope of Colorado.

As it so happened, my order of tree seedling from Jung Seed Company in Wisconsin arrived the day before. I had measured and marked where I wanted the seedlings to be planted, and even had the holes dug.

But upon reading the instructions from the nursery, they said that the seedlings had been kept in cold storage to simulate them being in winter dormancy. And to gently wake them up with a “spring rain” by putting them in a bucket of water overnight. As a former forester I know a bit about trees, but am always happy to oblige a commercial nursery that wants its customers to have the best in success.

The next day I was ready to plant my trees. On the Vernal Equinox, though I had not planned it that way. I got all thirteen seedlings (ten Black Hills Spruce and three Pyramidal Arborvitae) nestled into their new homes in great soil with good drainage.

As I finished planting (gently straightening my stiffening muscles, it’s been a long winter) I saw that it was still at least a half hour until moonrise. Actually more, because by the time the Full Moon would rise over the Uncompahgre Plateau to the North-Northeast it would be dusk. But light enough for landscape photography with the moon featured.

So I waited, camera on tripod in my back yard. I have a great view to the east, of the Uncompahgre Plateau and the west reaches of the San Juan Mountains.

March Moonrise over the Uncompahgre Plateau, Colorado.

This early in the year the moon would rise from my vantage point over the still snowbound Uncompahgre Plateau, on the Uncompahgre National Forest. I didn’t have time to drive an hour to a known location where I could situate snowy mountain crags in front of the moon. Blame the tree seedlings. They needed me more than my photography did that day.

The March “Worm Moon” rising above the Uncompahgre.

The moon slid silently into view over the crest of the mighty Uncompahgre, yellow with moisture on the horizon. As usual I stood in appreciation that I live in a place where I could be at home (if I had to) and photograph this scene right from my yard.