“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.
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.
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.
Skunkbush in fall colors. Gambel Oak, commonly called scrub oak or oakbrush.Grasses growing on the riverbank.
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.
San Miguel River and fall colors.
Returning to old Highway 90, I decided to go higher. But that is for another blog post on here.
It had been a long and wonderful day of shooting landscapes and scenery in early October south of Telluride, Colorado.
At Lizard Head Pass I turned off onto the Trout Lake Road on the San Juan National Forest. It was a portion of the historic route of the first and only railroad through the area, the Rio Grande Southern Railroad. The rails and ties are long gone, the railroad grade having been turned into a public National Forest road.
Golden Horn and Vermilion Peak through the trees on the Trout Lake Road.
Historic Trout Lake railroad trestle, from the former Rio Grande Southern Railroad.
The view upstream from Trout Lake Trestle. San Miguel Peak.
Here Come the Clouds
What had started out as a trademark blue Colorado sky was now building some interesting and dramatic clouds in late afternoon. But not completely overcast. The bands of sun here and there through the clouds onto the high peaks was intriguing.
Aspen, spruce, and fir framing San Miguel Peak.
On to Hope Lake Road
I was debating whether or not to drive up the bumpy, rocky Hope Lake Road. I knew it well; having camped up there several times. But today it was late, I was tired and was even hoping to drive much further to another area. What to do, what to do?
I finally decided that I should go up Hope Lake Road. I knew it would get me even closer to the high peaks, and besides this late in the season you don’t know when the snows will come and make the road a slippery mess. Before shutting it off completely for the winter.
So up I went. Bump, bounce, drive to the left of that rock, to the right of another. Miss one to hit two.
Out Onto the High Meadow
I was delighted to find that one of my favorite camping spots was unoccupied, so I pulled in. Got out and walked over to the edge to look out over the mountain meadow. Talk about being there at the perfect moment. The snow of a week ago was gone except for the high peaks. And some shady spots in the forest down where I was. The aspen were in full fall color glory, set against the deep green of the conical, spire-like spruce and fir trees.
San Miguel Peak and aspen.
I walked out into the upper meadow. As I had only been here before during the summer, I felt so fulfilled to be here during the autumn, at last.
Aspen colors with the lower flanks of San Miguel Peak across the valley.
The aspen trees were sidelit by the afternoon sun, with the mountain across the valley in soft shadow, providing a perfect backdrop. Then a breeze stirred the scene, blowing off a number of golden aspen leaves. I shot both still photos and video hurriedly to try to capture the ethereal moment of the falling leaves.
Aspen gold and Blue Spruce trees.
Oh, But There’s Even More
As thrilled as I was, I wasn’t done yet. The upper meadow extended to the left, urging me on.
Upper mountain meadow panorama: Pilot Knob, Golden Horn, Vermilion Peak; San Miguel Peak at right.
As the expanse widened even further, all of my favorite high peaks of the area came into view in a broad panorama. Pilot Knob, Golden Horn, Vermilion Peak, and San Miguel Peak. With my Olympus DSLR on tripod, I made a series of full resolution RAW shots, later merged into one magnificent panoramic image in Adobe Lightroom Classic. Snow lingering on the shady sides of the peaks, aspen at peak colors, dark green of the conifer forest. The blonde autumn grasses of the subalpine meadow.
Vermilion Peak and alluring sunlight bands.
The Wrapup: Down to Trout Lake
Finally I walked back over the soft bumpy ground of the upper meadow to my vehicle waiting in the spruce forest. I turned it around in the tight space of the camping area and drove back down the mountain road.
Trout Lake reflection: fall colors and high peaks of the San Juan Mountain range.
Down to Trout Lake itself. Where the sunlight-and-clouds show was still going on. The peaks, the aspen colors, the reflection on the surface of the lake. What a fitting conclusion to the day’s incredible photo shoot.
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.
Looking west from along Colorado Highway 145, south of Telluride.
It was time for the second of August’s Full Moons. As usual I headed out for a photo shoot two days before it, when the almost-full moon rises early enough for good landscape photography.
Bypassing Telluride: the Conoco Station Must Stop
I drove past Telluride, only stopping at the Conoco station near there on Highway 145. I always stop there for snacks and to-go food like hot pizza slices, brats, etc. and cold to-go sandwiches. And gas if you haven’t been wise enough to fill up where it’s lower priced, like Montrose, Cortez, Naturita, Grand Junction. The Conoco there is still much lower than you would find over the pass at Rico, the next nearest convenience store.
In the parking lot beside the Conoco station was a roadside stand with a lady from Olathe, Colorado selling fresh produce and fruit. Olathe is not far north of Montrose and Delta and grows fantastic stuff, including the locally cherished Olathe Sweet Corn.
I bought six huge sweet peaches for $10, a baker’s dozen (i.e.,13) of sweet corn for another 10, and a bag of roasted green chiles for 12. Especially after the lady cleverly suggested that “You could put one of the chiles on your sandwich” that I had just bought inside. When she asked if I wanted to pick out my own corn I said, “Not necessary; it’s Olathe Sweet Corn, and so it’s perfect. And I know my sweet corn”. I do.
After bypassing Telluride on 145, I stopped at the Lizard Head Wilderness overlook.
View south from Lizard Head Wilderness Overlook, Highway 145 south of Telluride, Colorado, toward Yellow Mountain and Sheep Mountain.
Trout Lake: Jewel of the San Miguel Range
Continuing on, I stopped beside the highway to get yet more lovely shots of Trout Lake and the peaks of the San Miguel Mountain Range that ring it to the north, east, and south. With another perfect Colorado clear blue sky.
Trout Lake, Colorado from Highway 145.
Scoping Out Lizard Head Pass
Then finally to Lizard Head Pass, elevation 10,222 feet / 3,116 meters. I pulled off there at the Lizard Head Overlook rest area for a view of the peaks along with some interesting interpretive signs about the geology of the mountain peaks and the history of the area.
Did you know that the titanic business struggle between Thomas Edison and Nikola Tesla/Westinghouse over AC electricity versus DC electricity was essentially settled for the whole country at the nearby mountain hamlet of Alta, Colorado? (The much safer Alternating Current electricity system won out, which we still use today).
Also, the rest area has pit toilets, a key consideration unless you want to truly poop in the woods like a bear.
Interpretive signs at the Rest Area at Lizard Head Pass along Colorado Highway 145.
At the Pass I made a number of photos of the peaks as well as the Forest Service camping area across the highway. It’s an “undeveloped” site, meaning there are no facilities; no water, toilets, or picnic tables.
But it’s free and of course has incredible views. I’ve camped there several times. If you don’t have a camper trailer or RV with a toilet, use the pit toilets across the highway at the rest area. They have toilet paper but no water or hand sanitizer, so bring your own.
Highway 145 and the undeveloped camping area on National Forest land, Lizard Head Pass.
Geology We All Can Appreciate
Being late August the snow was gone from the peaks save for a few small patches in shady nooks. But having the peaks bare allows one to appreciate the incredible variety of colors to the rock layers. You don’t have to care at all about geology to appreciate that. And maybe wonder why the layers were laid down by erosion in different colors over the millenia.
Pilot Knob, Golden Horn, and Vermilion Peaks, from Lizard Head Pass, Colorado.
Picking the Photo Shoot Spot
From several years’ experience shooting photos in this area I had that evening’s spot all staked out at the Lizard Head Trailhead parking lot. An unimpeded view of the high peaks. No trees in the way. Only a few other vehicles stopping by for the sunset view. And, on this evening, sunny and no wind. So very pleasant.
Looking West from Lizard Head Pass, Colorado.
As the shadows lengthened due to the peaks behind me to the west, the almost-set sunlight on the scene turned warmer, to golden. Then the sun was down and we were left in a soft early twilight.
Sunset light on San Juan Mountains peaks, south of Telluride, Colorado.
Tactical Moonrise Photo Shoot Planning
Why was I there to shoot moonrise two days before Full Moon? If you have browsed through this blog enough you know why. Because if you wait until the actual night of Full Moon, it rises too late for good landscape photography. It’s dark by then. Sure, you could take some gorgeous shots of the moon in a totally black sky, but who needs more of those?
Sunset light on Pilot Knob, Golden Horn, and Vermilion Peaks, from Lizard Head Pass, Colorado.
Instead, go out a day or two earlier. The moon will be almost full, and the scenery will still be lit. It depends on how tall the scenery is to the east, where the moon will rise. Up at the Pass, the peaks are so tall and close by that they are, uh, in the way from seeing moonrise at its official time.
It’s easy enough to find out what time the moon will rise on any date. Just go to a site like surnrisesunset.com. But…where exactly in the scene will it appear? And don’t just say “East”. Duh. But where, over what spot in your chosen scene?
Sunset time shadows lengthen toward Pilot Knob, Golden Horn, Vermilion Peak, and Sheep Mountain, at Lizard Head Pass, Colorado.
Planning Using The Photographer’s Ephemeris
For that level of planning I use the excellent Photographer’s Ephemeris, http://www.photoephemeris.com. You can use the free desktop version on the site, or pay a modest fee to use the more advanced versions.
Multi-hued Vermilion Peak. My favorite peak in the area.
For this evening, the Ephemeris said that, from my location on Lizard Head Pass, the moon would rise at azimuth 121 degrees. That’s a full 31 degrees south of straight East (azimuth 90 degrees). The sun is still that far south at this time of year. (In case you were wondering, after Autumn Equinox on September 21 it will start traveling back north again through the winter). That’s why I use the Ephemeris to line up my moonrise shots each month.
BUT…and there are two important ones. The first is that the official time of moonrise that night was 6:45pm. If nothing was in the way. If you were out on the plains you would see it at that time.
But with mountains in the way, it won’t appear above the scenery until quite a bit later. How much later? It depends on how close you are to the “scenery” that’s in the way. And in this case I was quite close. Especially to San Miguel Peak and Sheep Mountain.
So without having been in that exact spot on that day before, I would have to wait for the moon to show herself.
The second “BUT” has to do with the fact that the moon doesn’t rise straight up in the sky. (Nor does the sun, for that matter). It rises in an arc. So by the time it clears whatever is in the eastern sky, it will be further south than the 121 degrees for “official” moonrise.
I got out my trusty Silva Ranger compass that I still have from my years as a Forester, took a bead on where 121 degrees was on the far horizon, and waited.
A nature photographer’s field feast, on the hood of a Subaru Forester.
Since I had quite a bit of time to wait, I could leisurely eat my supper. The submarine sandwich from Conoco, with a roasted Olathe green chile in it, and a sweet peach. Filtered tap water to wash it down. A Ramblin’ Photographer’s Special. I don’t need to tell you how delicious it was. And with no wind, no need to huddle in the car. The hood of my Subaru Forester served as a stand-up picnic table. A retired Forester’s Forester, that is.
Roasted green chile submarine sandwich and fresh peaches.
I had been hoping that the moon would clear the peaks while the golden sunset colors were on them. But no. I was realizing that for that to happen I would have had to have been in that spot a day before. Last night. Three days before Full Moon.
Sunset light on Pilot Knob, Golden Horn, and Vermilion Peak, San Juan Mountains, Colorado.
So the sun went down behind me and a soft dusk settled over the scene. (Later, working on the shots on the computer, I was somewhat surprised as to how nice those dusk shots came out).
Sunset creeps up the high peaks. Almost time for moonrise.
I would have seen the moon sooner had I backtracked down to Trout Lake. Because there the peaks would have been further back from where I was. Experience/realization filed away for another shoot. Because I was committed to the spot I was at. Not knowing how much longer before la Luna was going to sneak over one of those peaks.
The Main Event, At Last
Finally, there it came. Creeping silently about midway between San Miguel Peak and Sheep Mountain. So you can see how far south from 121 degrees it had arced before I could see it from where I was. 121 degrees is at about the low point on the horizon at left of center in the photo.
Moonrise peeking over the peaks, from Lizard Head Pass, Colorado.
And it was getting dark quickly. I put on the long lens and shot fast, the moon as always rising surprisingly quickly. Our Earth rotates faster than one realizes.
Moonrise over the peak, San Juan Mountains from Lizard Head Pass, Colorado.
Back In the Studio: Developing the Shots with Adobe Lightroom
Back home in my studio late that night I developed the shots in Adobe Photoshop Lightroom. I say “developed” because I shoot in Camera Raw format, meaning all of the original digital information is within the shot’s file on my computer. That way the camera does not interpret the shot. I do it later, so that I have as much control as possible.
The long lens shots of the moon at first appeared to have some kind of digital aberration on the left side of the moon. Zooming in on the shot I realized that it was actually craters on the moon, being lit from the side by the not-quite-full (97% Illuminated) moon! Cool.
Waxing 94% full moon over mountain peak, from Lizard Head Pass, Colorado.
Wrapping up the shoot, it was time to put the camera gear back in the car and head home in the dark. Since I would be passing the Conoco station again I stopped for a snack that would help keep me from getting too drowsy while I drove.
When you were young did you think that the moon followed you home while your parents drove you? I did, too. And it appeared to follow me again that night, making the drive home so much more fun than a black sky.
Taking home the rest of the sweet corn, chiles, and peaches to be enjoyed over the next few days.
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.Sipapu Bridge and stream.
The strenuous part of the hike, of course, is going back up to the parking lot.
Kachina Bridge, from above the southwest buttress. Just a few cottonwood colors starting.
Mid September, and time to pay another visit down in White Canyon to Kachina Bridge at Natural Bridges National Monument in southeast Utah.
Unseasonably warm, after some sweet autumn-like weather the week before. But it’s temporary. The sun continues its arc toward the south, the days grow shorter and shorter, the cooling nights longer.
At the bottom of the trail, 400 feet below the rim, I once again savor the massive stone colossus’ shade. A nice breeze formed by its opening, almost 200 feet wide. I drop my pack to let my sweaty shirt back do some evaporative cooling.
Reflection pool beside Kachina Bridge, White Canyon.
Underneath Kachina Natural Bridge
Walking underneath Kachina Bridge gives you a sense of just how small and temporary you are. About how long it took moving water to carve its way through the massive fin of sandstone until it could go through it rather than around.
White Canyon downstream from Kachina Natural Bridge.
Hiking downstream from Kachina Bridge, pools of water were still left from the last rain. The stream banks are a linear oasis between the solid rock canyon walls.
“Wrong Way” warning sign downstream from Kachina Bridge.
A sign along the stream bank attempts to guide hikers that the trail to Owachomo Bridge is not by bushwacking down White Canyon. Go back partway up toward the rim and look for the sign pointing toward Owachomo.
Somewhere in White Canyon.
Hiking in White Canyon can be a lesson in route finding. Sometimes a trail is marked and obvious. Other times it is not. But exploring the canyon affords many great views of the sandstone walls.
Hikers beneath Kachina Natural Bridge.
People in the photo gives a true sense of scale of the bridge.
Ruin at Kachina Natural Bridge. Note the handprints on the cliff wall and the ghostly pictographs painted inside the low adobe structure.
A short scramble up a steep sand bank allows you to see some Ancestral Puebloan ruins. Handprints painted on the cliff wall (pictographs) and the low adobe structure at its base, with ghostly images painted inside. This would have been made about 800 years ago. Notice how a later (how much later?) debris flow of muddy water occurred that covered over parts of the handprints.
Ghost-like pictographs on the adobe structure. Ancient inscriptions (petroglyphs) pecked into the sandstone on Kachina Natural Bridge buttress.
On the buttress of Kachina Bridge itself are petroglyphs, the term for figures pecked into the sandstone face. A vulture or maybe a condor, a twin bodied desert bighorn sheep. What else can you guess here? The Hopi can trace their clans, which even have societies within those clans, to the figures left behind at Natural Bridges. Their knowledge is that vast and detailed.
Thankfully, these inscriptions are far out of reach of visitors. The stream has continued its downcutting through the centuries. Or maybe the ancient ones built a ladder to get up there. Don’t laugh; they built and used ladders. The remains of one of them is still in the park. I won’t tell you where. I only share photos of ancient ruins that the Park Rangers are allowed to tell visitors about. As far as all of the other ones I have hiked to in the park, those are top secret as far as I’m concerned. I value and respect them, that I had the privilege to see them in person.
Kachina Natural Bridge approach, in summer.
Finally, autumn leaves turn color and fall to the ground. Days are much shorter already and winter is just around the corner.
Kachina Natural Bridge approach, November.Single-leaf ash, fall colors.
Single-leaf ash (Fraxinus anomala) is a desert tree. Yes. A small tree, but beautiful during spring, summer and fall. It grows in wet nooks at Natural Bridges.
Single-Leaf Ash in summer. Note the opposite leafing pattern, same as in all ash trees. What a surprise to see a short member of the Fraxinus species in the desert. Most of us are used to ash trees being large beautiful shade trees in towns and cities. Fall colors and reflection, framed by Kachina Natural Bridge.
Now that the summer heat has moved in, and while we’re waiting for the late summer monsoon thunderstorm season to begin, I’ve rounded up my favorite photos of wildflowers from the year thus far. We start here with the earliest springtime blooms, those joyous first confirmations that winter is finally over (except for the odd late spring snow storms).
Newberry’s Twinpod – Physaria newberryi, flowers just beginning to open.
Newberry’s Twinpod on the “beach” at Kachina Natural Bridge.
Newberry’s Twinpod is one of the earliest wildflowers here on Cedar Mesa in southeast Utah. In this photo the blossoms are just opening. The earliest green of spring, the first flush of bright yellow blossoms.
Newberry’s Twinpod with seed pods.
Above is the plant with its seed pods, in early summer. Each one has twin “bladders” that are papery dry, and a beautiful violet color at first. Later they turn a light brown and fall to the ground around the stem.
Parry’s Biscuitroot, Lomatium parryi
Parry’s Biscuitroot is another of the earliest wildflowers in canyon country. With its muted yellow flower head clusters, it’s easy to miss. But quite appreciated once you notice it, because spring is finally here even though all the other plant life is still brown and gray, except for the Pinyon pine and Utah juniper trees.
Newberry’s Twinpod (Physaria newberryi), and Carpet Phlox (Phlox hoodii).
Carpet Phlox, though not as common around Natural Bridges, are beautifully showy with their almost moss-like foliage and, of course, showy pure white petals and bright yellow centers.
Fremont’s Mahonia (Mahonia fremontii), Natural Bridges National Monument.
Fremont’s Mahonia is probably the earliest shrub to blossom around here, at 6,500 feet. The blossoms are sweetly aromatic, from a good distance downwind. I like this photo because it also shows something interesting about the foliage. The leaves are blue-green with sharp little tips. They are evergreen, except that on many plants they turn purplish in the winter. Some plants don’t, at least not this past winter.
Common Paintbrush – Castilleja chromosa, White Canyon, Cedar Mesa, Utah.
I wonder how this species feels about being called “common”? Many people know it as Indian Paintbrush, but apparently now its common name (ha!) has changed to one belonging to everybody. No comments about political correctness needed…. I like this photo because I paired it with the new green growth of another forb adjoining the Paintbrush cluster.
Colorado Bladderpod gets onto the springtime scene with its radiating network of long flower stalks capped by its bright yellow four petaled blossoms. These blooms hung around for quite a while this past spring at Natural Bridges.
Pale Evening Primrose – Oenothera pallida, Natural Bridges.
And then there’s the showy Pale Evening Primrose, with its four huge white petals and a yellow center. These blossoms fully open by nightfall, because they are pollinated by nocturnal insects.
Cliffrose – Purshia mexicana, at Natural Bridges.
A little later in the spring, the sweetly aromatic off-white blossoms of Cliffrose (Purshia mexicana) appear profusely on these tall high desert evergreen shrubs.
Claretcup cactus – Echinocereus triglochidiatus, Cedar Mesa.
By far the earliest cactus to blossom in the high desert is the Claretcup cactus, one of the hedgehog cacti. These guys form dense colonies, like cactus urban centers.
It was like any other day, unless you count that I was to take a driving exam and then get my license restored at DMV in Montrose. No pressure, no excitement. Though I would once again be driving through one of my favorite parts of southwest Colorado, and I made sure that I had started out early. On the way back I would have all the time in the world, until sunset that is.
Old dirt bikers never die. Or do they? Norwood, Colorado.
On the way I paused in Norwood (elevation 7,011 ft / 2,137 m) to photograph the beautifully preserved old dirt bikes (one complete with a skeleton) bolted artfully atop a vintage International Scout at Norwood Storage & Warehousing. You don’t see that every day.
One is a Montesa, and the other is a Bultaco. Back in my dirt biking days I knew all about these tough, fast and powerful Spanish motorcycles. (I once even owned an Ossa Pioneer). For this photo, I walked around until I could get Lone Cone Peak in the distance, 20 miles south of town.
Further along, I stopped at the San Juan Mountains Scenic View just off of CO Highway 62, south of Ridgway. There isn’t a sign announcing it. It comes up fast on the curvy road, but usually there is little or no traffic, and you can always turn around after you’ve blown past it.
The San Juan Mountains Scenic View. Looking south toward Mears Peak in the Mt. Sneffels Wilderness.
Having completed my business in Montrose, it was time to backtrack down US 50 and CO 62. Up over Dallas Divide (elevation 8,983 ft / 2,738 m) soon turning onto Last Dollar Road. A public road, it winds back through scenic ranches with high mountain meadows and the high peaks of the San Juan Mountains for a backdrop. If you have a real 4WD vehicle and appropriate experience you can take it all the way over to Telluride. But I don’t, and didn’t.
“Entering Remote Area – EMS response may be limited”. You have been warned.Last Dollar Ranch. Private. Always respect private property.
A sign of early fall in the high country is that many of the grasses are done for the season, gone to seed and turning brown.
Grasses in high mountain meadow, Last Dollar Road.
Another hint of fall is Colorado False Hellebore (Veratrum tenuipetalum), a member of the Lily family. Sometimes called Corn Lily, for obvious reasons. It only grows in wet areas, is tall and pretty much unmistakable to identify. It’s a very poisonous plant, to both people and livestock. So leave it alone. But beautiful to look at. Just don’t touch it.
Colorado False Hellebore, August 2023.
Dramatic skies up there, teasing rain showers. Only a few raindrops fell on me. But the Virga clouds (I call them rain curtains) in the distance were tantalizing to watch.
“Heavy clouds, but no rain”. Aspen View Ranch. Fence, high meadows, and Virga clouds. Lone Cone Peak and San Juan Mountains in far distance.Oakbrush (Gambel oak, Quercus gambelii) stands on the hillsides. Elk love this cover in the summer.Gambel Oak. Acorns almost ready to drop to the ground. A banner food year for deer, elk, turkeys, bear. Quaking Aspen (Populus tremuloides) stand. I love the white-barked variety like these.Virga rain clouds over the high meadows. San Juan Mountains and Lone Cone Peak in the far distance.
The wide open spaces of the high mountain meadows. The smell of rain, distant thunder. High peaks. Summertime in the Colorado Rockies. Almost Heaven. Close enough to perfect for me.
Hanging Flume Overlook, Hwy. 141, Montrose County, Colorado
Morning along Highway 141 in western Colorado. North of Naturita and the historic Uravan town site I stopped for the view from the Hanging Flume Overlook. The Dolores River was muddy, swollen by the recent rains.
Dolores River, looking north (downstream) from Hanging Flume Overlook.
It’s been such a wonderfully wet year, everything is still so green. On this morning, the clouds were still moving out from the rain the previous night.
Dolores River, looking upstream.
Driving down the West Creek portion of the Unaweep Valley, an oncoming car flashed its lights quickly, signaling something up ahead. Sure enough, there was a small herd of Bighorn Sheep grazing along the highway’s edge.
Bighorn Sheep ewes along CO Hwy. 141, north of Gateway, Colorado.
After my appointments in Grand Junction, it was time to turn around and head home. It started raining again, but I stopped at the turnout for the Driggs Mansion historic ruin. During a downpour I managed to quickly get some shots with some Sunflowers in bloom along with the mansion ruin and hulking Thimble Rock above.
Sunflowers, Driggs Mansion historic site, and Thimble Rock.
Then, back in Nucla for the evening, the rain clouds had pulled away, with giant cumulus and thunderhead clouds dominating the blue sky. To the north, the town of Nucla spread out on the basin, dark green with its many shade trees, the Uncompahgre Plateau forming the backdrop.
August in Nucla, Colorado and the Uncompahgre Plateau. Summer evening clouds panorama: Nucla and the Uncompahgre Plateau.
The Uncompahgre Plateau is within the Uncompahgre National Forest. Many forest roads criss-cross the plateau. You can even drive all the way east to Montrose, bypassing the highways that go from Nucla to Norwood to Placerville and over Dallas Divide to Ridgway and Montrose.
Looking east from Nucla Hill toward the southern reaches of the Uncompahgre Plateau.
I drove up Nucla Hill to the airport, the best spot around for a 360-degree view of the area. Besides the Uncompahgre Plateau to the north, the San Juan Mountain Range and Lone Cone Peak are to the southeast.
Lone Cone Peak, far away and 20 miles south of Norwood, Colorado.
My shadow fit in well with the long shadows of Rabbitbrush around me.
Looking east from Nucla’s airport, Hopkins Field.Subtle sunset colors over Nucla.
A grand evening to a lovely August day on the Western Slope of Colorado.
The high San Juan Mountain Range in the Rockies, from the Lizard Head Pass area between Telluride and Rico. Sunset was approaching. Shadows were lengthening across the faces of the high peaks.
Vermilion Peak from Trout Lake, Colorado.Evening sunlight on Sheep Mountain.Rico. Colorado. It was the County Seat of Dolores County back in the silver mining boom days.Pilot Knob, Golden Horn, and Vermilion Peak in golden sunset colors. Lizard Head Peak area from Lizard Head Pass. Lizard Head Peak, elevation 13,113 feet.
Stephen Krieg Photography Blog 