Day 1: Two Passes

After a busy few months of summer work, distance training, and the hubbub of fall recruitment, I set out on my final solo trip of 2024, a weeklong hiking and photography tour of Colorado’s Western Slope, specifically focusing on Gunnison National Forest, the San Juan Mountains, and the wilderness areas in between. It’s a beautiful part of the country that I have just barely touched the periphery of (having come as close as Cortez, CO during our Four Corners trip in 2022), but have never visited truly. I’ve timed my trip fairly well for autumn foliage - those few weeks each year when mountainsides of quaking aspen and riverways lined by cottonwood transform the entire state into a colorful bonanza - a natural “gold rush,” as they say out West. Although by the end of my time in Colorado the forests in many areas are becoming windblown and barren, and the entire trip’s photographic conditions are generally plagued by empty blue skies more often than not, I manage to come away with some beautiful landscape images, and a week of memorable adventures on foot.

My trip starts with an early morning transfer via Denver to the small regional airport in Gunnison, CO; from the air, we pass over the Continental Divide and the bulk of the Rocky Mountains, their jagged granitic peaks and broken scree slopes mostly free of ice at this time of year. The land falls away to a series of faults and ranges, the basins between which are covered by mixed conifer and hardwood forests. From above, the aspens groves are a sea of gold and orange hues - mesmerizing, inviting. In Gunnison, I pick up my rental (a Ford Escape that escapes nicknaming the entire trip) and head out on the road after a pit stop for groceries at the local Safeway. My driving playlist, again retooled toward the calm acoustic and folk tracks of autumn, blares over the tinny speakers of my fifteen-year-old iPod Nano - a device so geologically ancient that it has apparently grown increasingly incompatible with USB connections in rental cars (note to self: aux cable next time, sigh). Following the highway north out of town, I soon turn off onto Ohio Creek Road, which winds its way along cottonwoods toward Ohio Pass. My objective for the afternoon is to explore two passes to the north of Gunnison - Ohio and Kebler Passes - before making my way to Crested Butte, where I’ll be based for the first half of the week. Along the way, the road cuts along the edge of the West Elk Wilderness, and tantalizing mountain-and-forest views begin to reveal themselves at every turn. I make frequent stops by the side of the well-graded gravel road, taking plenty of a long and panoramic shots with my polarizer on.

Nearing the botton of Ohio Pass, the road winds into the foothills below the Anthracite Range, which has been steadily looming to the north. Here, I enter the aspens in earnest, the ghostly trunks rising up on both sides of the road. Mid-afternoon, I stop at a trailhead to hike the half-mile up and half-mile down to a series of beaver ponds nestled beneath the mountains. It feels wonderful to be finally exploring on foot after a few hours of (albeit very slow and relaxed) driving and roadside photography; I climb into the aspen forest, thrilled by the beautiful canopy of golden leaves, which cast a surreal, warm hue on everything below. The pale white trunks of the aspen trees, especially, make for compelling subjects against the backdrop of colorful foliage, and it seems I can hardly help but stop every few feet to shoot into the dense forest. Worth noting, too, is that the slender, straight trees afford much cleader compositions than I’ve become used to in the jumble of New England’s mixed deciduous forests (or more recently, in Cascadia’s old-growth rainforests). For a woodland photographer like myself, this is such a treat! On my way back down the trail, I sneak a few choice aspen leaves off the forest floor and press them between the bills in my wallet; I’ll wind up bringing them all the way home to Boston, to add to my collection of pressed leaf specimens.

Moving on from the Beaver Pond Trailhead, I briefly return downhill to photograph the view from the foot of Ohio Pass, before turning the car around and proceeding to the top of Ohio Pass. Here, beneath a scree slope, there’s a festive crowd of gathered foliage viewers and photographers admiring the expansive panorama to the south and west, which sweeps over many miles of forested wildernes and several mountain ranges, most notably the peaks of the West Elk Wilderness to the southwest, including the distinct rock minarets known as the Castles. I set up my tripod to take the first of many timelapses on this trip, while hand-holding my main camera to make panoramas and zoom shots of the amazing landscape. It’s a high traffic situation on this balmy Saturday afternoon above Ohio Pass’s golden aspens — multiple parked cars barely pulled over onto the scree slope, SUVs trying to pass each other on a steep dirt road, narrowly avoiding the human conga line. I exchange pleasantries with another photographer and a drone operator, and help a family of four (the teenage daughters treating Mom and Dad with complete and utter disdain) take a family portrait before my timelapse finishes. I relinquish my spot, moving on to the top of the pass and down the other side, to the north.

To the north, the road intersects Gunnison’s County Road 12, which runs between Crested Butte to the east and Paonia to the west, passing through Kebler Pass in the middle. I’ll be returning this way after sunset on my way to Crested Butte, but first, I take a left turn and proceed into Kebler Pass, intending to scout as much of it as I can before selecting a sunset spot for my first day in Colorado. Just as in Ohio Pass, I seem to have chanced upon pretty good foliage conditions here at the tail end of September. The east end of Kebler Pass (the area between Ruby Peak and the Beckwith Mountains, and the aspen groves leading to the west) is carpeted with color, and there is a wonderful blend of golden, orange, and red leaves strewn across the hillsides. Further to the west, the gravel road continues through a several-mile stretch of aspen forest, some of the densest and oldest clonal aspen forests I’ll see during the entire trip. The western part of Kebler Pass, beyond the forest, opens into a mixture of ecotones - in many places the landscape is almost tundra-like in appearance, and in other places it is covered in scrub oak and patchy hardwood groves. Though it’s stark, expansive, and beautiful, the west side of the pass is also in worse photographic condition; the aspen groves beneath Marcellina Mountain have clearly been stripped bare of their leaves, while other places are not yet at peak color. After driving all the way to the west end of the pass and taking a quick photo at a dirt overlook above the road, I turn the car around and head back east for sunset. The falling sun and its illuminating sidelight through the aspens is utterly magical.

Having scouted a few different roadside perspectives along the eastern part of Kebler Pass, I ultimately settle on a spot near Horse Ranch Park, from where I can shoot the play of sunset colours on Ruby Peak and the adjoining aspen groves rising up above the valley to the north. After a tough bit of setup (to avoid including road, parked cars, and a few camper/RV setups with quite a bit of verticality), I manage to shoot a timelapse of Ruby Peak while again working panoramas and detail comps with my main camera. Although I did not know it yet, this first sunset wound up being one of the better-lit and more colorful ones of the entire trip (and one of the very few golden hours with any clouds…). The results (below) are some of the more print-worthy landscape photos I have taken in some time.

After sunset, I join the procession of cars leaving Kebler Pass. It’s only a twenty-minute drive eastward to Crested Butte, but it’s pitch-dark by the time I arrive in town, and it takes me some time to locate a good parking spot for my guesthouse (the innkeepers kindly suggest that I park in a secluded spot in the back of the building, which becomes my designated park-up for the next few days). After settling in, unpacking, enjoying complimentary homemade cookies, and making myself a hotel-room dinner (the usual noodle setup), I go to sleep early in anticipation of an active day ahead.

Day 2: Dark Canyon

In the morning, it’s back to Kebler Pass. In the darkness of the hour before dawn, after a few bites of raisin bread and a bottle of chocolate milk, I creep back through the old Western set that is the town of Crested Butte (which I still haven’t seen in daylight), and up the road into the mountains. My sunrise destination is a fairly obvious overlook that I scouted the day before, along a hairpin turn on the road just before it descends into the pass, with a nice wide view of East Beckwith Mountain to the south and the Dyke (a serrated ridge of granite) to the north. Joined by a few other photographers (all of whom are very gracious and equally sardonic about the cloudless skies), I shoot a sunrise timelapse of East Beckwith Mountain while using my main camera to focus on some of the nearby aspens, as well as the moonrise behind us. Eventually, as the sun fully crests the horizon, I move on downward into the pass.

My second stop is a brief walk from the roadside down to a group of beaver ponds that I noticed the night before. Here I meet two other photographers working the early morning scene - a calm, perfect reflection of East Beckwith in the water. I make a mental note of this place, and plan to return later in the day, for sunset. From here, I drive a short distance to Horse Ranch Park and my main objective for the day: a seven-mile hike along the Dark Canyon Trail, looping up to the foothills beneath Ruby Peak and the Dyke. Although the hike will prove to be more challenging than I anticipated (a chunky but reasonable two thousand feet of cumulative elevation gain over the seven miles, but at a much higher elevation than my coastal New Englander lungs are used to extracting oxygen from), it will simultaneously prove itself as one of the most beautiful, most photographically productive hikes I have ever done.

After turning north from the car park, the trail quickly plunges headlong into some of the densest and most beautiful aspen forests anywhere in the world. What I love so much about the Dark Canyon Trail, however, is its variety. Even in its initial (relatively flat, easy) few miles hiking the loop clockwise, the trail and its scenery bear constant surprises. It weaves its way along forested slopes, through aspen groves, to the edge of open meadows, and past creeks and enormous beaver ponds (one of them practically damming a 10-foot water level difference between two ponds!). The trail notably opens up several times, revealing stuning views of the Beckwith Mountains. In the light of a totally cloudless mid-morning, conditions are too harsh to really benefit large landscapes, but the Dark Canyon Trail provides me many opportunities to shoot intimate forest scenes, backlit foliage, and detailed flora. I keep a pitiful pace, stopping to shoot the forest every few hundred feet, leapfrogging back and forth with a group of older hikers with big day packs and hiking poles. Mindful of the time, I eventually holster the camera and forge on, as I’d like to be able to tackle the back part of the loop and its significant elevation gain before the relatively warm morning gets any hotter.

After passing an impressive overlook of Kebler Pass to the west and north (where the hiking group stops for a snack and asks me to take a group photo of them), the trail enters the Ragged Wilderness and begins to rise sharply uphill onto the flanks of Ruby Peak. Although I’m well-geared and carrying all the food and water I need, it’s truly an arduous stretch of trail for me. I feel far more winded than I was expecting to be near the end of half-marathon training, and have to pause to take some deep breaths every few minutes along the ascent. After a tough, sweaty uphill slog (and a few startling encounters with very loud click beetles), I reach the apex of the loop at an airy ridge overlooking the pass and mountains to the south, where other hikers and picnickers are gathered. After shooting the obligatory panorama, I sit and rest for awhile, shielding my face from the harsh sun using my shirt hoodie, and re-hydrating and enjoying a snack (second breakfast really) of bread, cheese, a banana, and a fruit bar. Then, it’s quickly downhill through the aspen forest, covering three miles in an hour and rejoining the original trail back to the parking lot. Along the way, semi-trail-running through the trees and passing equally sweaty uphill hikers, I feel a slight twinge in my left middle toe (where I’ve been nursing a toenail bruise from running) and wonder for awhile whether I’ve lost the toenail entirely. Alas, upon checking my foot back at the guesthouse, this turns out to be a false alarm. For weeks to come (indeed, all the way past the actual race day in November), I’ll be stuck staring at this blueberry-of-a-toe and wondering when it will look and feel normal again.

Back at the car, it’s early afternoon, and I’ve completed seven miles in roughly four hours (about as long as I thought it would take, given all the amazing photography opportunities). I choose to head back to Crested Butte to eat lunch and rest up at the guesthouse. Although I won’t be doing much exploring in town itself until tomorrow, I do take the opportunity to lounge around a bit in the downstairs living area of the guesthouse, where there’s a roaring fire, delightful savory and sweet pastries for breakfast, and complimentary cookies and red wine in the afternoon. Strolling into the wooden salon, with my twin cameras slung across my chest and holstered against my hip - I feel like a bonafide country cowboy. A Chinese-American leaf-peeping tourist-photographer cowboy. “Howdy,” I say with my best drawl to the mostly geriatric leaf-peeping tourists sitting in front of the fireplace. They nod silently. I head back up to my room and take a nap.

In the late afternoon, I set out to do some more exploring before a planned sunset shoot in Kebler Pass. This time, I choose to turn off the main road before reaching Kebler in order to explore the shores of Lake Irwin, just a few miles up another dirt road. Nestled on the other side of Ruby Peak, Lake Irwin is a prototypical summerland paradise. There are no aspens here — just an evergreen forest of pine and spruce that leads right down to the water’s edge, where rope swings and iceboxes await. I meander along a small fisherman’s trail that encircles the lake, check out some of the campground cabins (closed for the season), and skip some stones while watching a group of teens try to figure out the outboard motor on their boat. At length, they make it out into the middle of the water; their laughs and yips and happy chattering carry clear all the way across to the other shore. Mindful of the time, I turn around at the eastern end of the lake, making my way back to the car while photographing the peaceful surroundings. On the drive back out from the lakeshore to the county road, I pass a white-tailed fawn munching contentedly by the roadside. Then, it’s back, again, to Kebler Pass.

A lightshow among lightshows, tonight at Kebler Pass. Sunset tonight will prove to be the most rewarding one of the entire week (and basically the only one with any clouds in the sky). After stopping by this morning’s sunrise location to take some overview shots of East Beckwith Mountain, I proceed a few miles down the road, walking through the brush down to edge of the beaver pond I scouted in the morning. From here, there are terrific views of East Beckwith (directly to the west) and the adjoining aspen groves, as well as fantastic compositions involving the distant trees to the west and northwest. The light is moving quickly - rays of falling sun shining through between layers of cloud and radiating from behind the mountain. In addition to setting up another (this time, very long timelapse), I take my main camera and walk around and above the beaver pond, looking for varying ways to compose the mountain, trees, and water in pleasing configurations. After settling on a bundle of compositions, I return to these cyclically over the golden hour to capture the rapidly changing light. Sunset is capped off with a burst of luminous light and a refracted, rich pink-and-salmon colors in the clouds surrounding East Beckwith. After documenting as much as I can, I retreat back to the car and return to Crested Butte for the night, satisifed at having been in-position for one of the best sunsets I’ve shot in a very, very long time.

Day 3: Three Lakes

Monday morning. After many drives up and down the mountain pass from Crested Butte in the past two days, this morning marks my final outing to Kebler Pass. After this morning’s hike, I’ll be focusing more on the environs of Crested Butte itself in the afternoon and evening, and moving on westward to the San Juan Mountains tomorrow. For this morning, it’s an early start and a long drive from the guesthouse back up to Kebler Pass, and this time all the way to the Lost Lake Campground in the central part of the pass. It’s still dark when I pull into the parking area and pay the day-use fee, although the slightest glimmer of light to the east is beginning to reveal itself on the horizon. I’m here this morning to shoot sunrise on the flanks of East Beckwith Mountain, this time from the shore of Lost Lake Slough at the mountain’s base. In contrast to last night’s stunning golden hour light, there is only a whiff of cloud on the eastern horizon; the sky is otherwise a blank slate again. I set up my timelapse on the north shore of Lost Lake Slough, not far from the nearby campground, and then take my main camera for a walk along the shore, looking for interesting foregrounds to pair with the mountain and its reflection on the water’s surface. Eventually, sunlight creeps into the scene - first as a pink glow on East Beckwith’s summit, then as a band of fiery gold, lighting up the aspens on the mountain’s flank. As day sets in, I leave the water’s edge and set off on a loop hike around Lost Lake Slough and to two nearby lakes: Lost Lake and Dollar Lake.

The walk is brilliant and beautiful this morning, and the air is crisp with the smell of evergreen needles and forest floor. The trail heads uphill from the Lost Lake Slough, cutting sequentially through pine forest and then aspen groves; the sidelight coming through the trees is mesmerizing. Up at Lost Lake, it’s daylight in earnest, and I choose to take a brief detour to circle the little lake and photograph both shores reflected in the water. Crossing Middle Creek near its inlet with Lost Lake, I briefly stop to admire a nearby waterfall before continuing uphill to the top of the hike. Here, the trail crosses a scree slope dotted with pines which opens out above the forest, onto a fantastic panorama of Lost Lake Slough below, and Marcellina Mountain in the distance. I stop here for a water break and a series of photographs - the latest in this blog’s grand tradition of “Taking a Photo of My Parked Car from a Very Faraway Place.”

Above the slope, I come to a trail intersection and diverge for a short distance further uphill to come to the shores of Dollar Lake, a magical little lake tucked against the flank of East Beckwith Mountain, where the autumn colours and the admixture of deciduous and evergreen forest is again beautifully reflected in the water. Then, I retrace my steps back to the intersection and make the long downhill run back to the opposite end of Lost Slough Lake, returning to the car after what feels like an interminable series of switchbacks and stream crossings.

Mid-morning now. With the sun glaring above in a cloudless sky, rendering foliage photography difficult, I choose to leave Kebler Pass behind for the final time, making my way back to Crested Butte. Along the way, I scout for a good sunset spot in the hills above town, and then proceed back into civilization to grab a nice brunch (bacon, eggs, pancakes, and juice) at McGill’s on Elk Avenue. Sated and happy, I wander down the street, photographing the storefronts beneath the looming peak of Crested Butte, and stopping into a souvenir shop to pick up this trip’s magnet - a cute whitetail deer for Jordan. Then, it’s back to the hotel to rest for the afternoon.

After taking a short nap, spending time off-feet, and catching up on reading and writing, I head back out in the late afternoon to scout a few locations around town before the golden hour sets in. The first location is on the eastern edge of town, where I leave my car parked at Rainbow Park and walk down the street to the fence of McCormick Ranch. Although the road here is private and impassible to cars, pedestrian walkers are welcome, and I take the opportunity to briefly walk along the ranch road, photographing the houses of Crested Butte’s ski resort / condominium village to the north, and the herd of cows standing in the open, grassy valley to the south. It’s a beautiful location, but despite the 360-degree openness of the road and the nearby mass of Crested Butte, I decide that it doesn’t particularly stand out or inspire me to return for either sunrise or sunset.

For my next stop of the afternoon, I drive a short distance north of the town proper, to the top of a residential neighborhood adjoining Mt. Crested Butte (the ski village). Here, I find a nice cul-de-sac to leave the car and walk along the ridgeline, photographing Crested Butte itself, along the with the distant mountains to the north and west, their flanks shadowed by the afternoon light. Nearby, a pair of black-billed magpies hop along the asphalt, apparently waiting to see if they can pinch any snacks or valuables from the newcomer photographer. It’s another pretty spot for photography, and I decide it should do just fine for sunrise tomorrow morning (when the peaks to the west will be touched by first light).

Now, back in the car and back toward Crested Butte to catch sunrise at my earlier-scouted spot in the hills above town. On my way down from the ski village, I first briefly turn up the highway toward the Oh-Be-Joyful Recreation Area, where a series of pullouts on the side of the road reward me with lovely valley views toward Gunsight Pass and the aspen groves below Snodgrass Mountain, beautifully lit in the setting sun. I briefly wish I had budgeted more time to explore the valleys around Crested Butte; but no matter - it’s onward to my golden hour location.

Above Crested Butte, I find a place to park the car and climb just off the roadside, into the sage-covered hills overlooking town. It’s a beautiful meadow fringed by a few stands of red-orange aspen trees, and in the distance, the mountains to the north and east are catching the last of the day’s light. After finding a clear spot in the grass to sit myself down (so as not to draw too much attention from the road below), I set up a sunset timelapse while working with my main camera to photograph alpenglow on Crested Butte and the more distant mountain ranges. Then, it’s a short drive back to the guesthouse for wine, cookies, and my final night in Crested Butte before relocating westward tomorrow.