Mill-Castle Trail

Some people like to sleep in when they're on vacation. Frankly, I'm one of them. But then I think about the great things I could do if I weren't sleeping, and end up spurning the comfort of my warm bed and soft pillow. Such was the case on our last day in Colorado over spring break, when I got up before dawn to head out and snowshoe some of the Mill-Castle Trail.

Temperatures had been unseasonably warm all week in both Denver and Crested Butte.  The sun was still partially obscured by thin clouds when I hit the trail, but with no wind to speak of the conditions were perfect.

As usual, some dead wood caught my eye.  I can just get lost in the textures and patterns sometimes, and in this case I was also captivated by the colors.

The trail slopes very gently over its first couple of miles, and while the snow wasn't fresh I thought there was exactly the right amount to create a beautiful late winter scene.

The Castles themselves start playing peek-a-boo about a mile in, then the trail opens up into a valley that gives an unobstructed view.

This is not a bad place to own 160 acres, though I imagine you can't reach it on anything with wheels for seven months of the year.  Of course, the five months that you can are probably totally worth it.

The direction of the sunlight actually made the formation opposite The Castles more visually interesting.  More shadows and contrast.  And another nice little cabin in the foreground.

Just a couple of miles in I decided to turn back and follow Mill Creek for a while instead of sticking to the trail.  This gave me the opportunity to get a little running water in the foreground of the scene.

Traipsing through the snow on the south side of the creek meant breaking trail a bit, but the warm day made that a lot easier than it could have been.

My dilemma shooting aspens in the winter is always whether the images are more interesting in color or black and white.  I'm still not sure I have an answer to that one.

Nope.  Still decidedly undecided.

The thin clouds of early morning had given way to mostly bluebird skies when I made it back to the trailhead.  Four miles in three hours isn't going to break any speed records, but speed was far from my goal.  Breathing some fresh mountain air and spending time in some wilderness were what I was after.  Mission very satisfyingly accomplished.

Gothic Road

I convinced Zak to join me and Ginny for some snowshoeing on our third day in Crested Butte. Josh recommended Gothic Road as being a nice length -- six miles to the town of Gothic and back -- but not especially steep. That seemed like a great combination, so we saddled up and headed out.

The trailhead was less than 10 minutes from our condo, and that proximity to scenic beauty and outdoor activity is one of the things I love about Crested Butte.  Gothic Road is a normal paved road that simply isn't maintained in the winter.

Great view back to Mt. Crested Butte from the road.

The East River Valley stretched out beautifully below us.

I'm really getting drawn to aspen groves.  There's a simple elegance to them -- especially in winter -- that intrigues me.

Mt. Gothic itself soon came into sight, with the southeast face presenting a different view than the classic pyramid you can see from town.

Continuing toward the town, the east side of Mt. Gothic looms stark and steep.

The three hikers at our destination.  It took several takes before Ginny would actually look at the camera.  The early signs of the wonderful sunburn I ended up with are already visible on my nose.  You'd think after living in this state for 17 years I'd remember to wear sunscreen.

We did our best to obey the speed limit.  At four hours to cover the six miles, we were pretty safe!

Crested Butte: Washington Gulch, Part II

Click here for Part I.

The trail along the ridge was much more gradual than the one to the ridge.  I told Josh I could hike this sort of ascent all day, and I meant it.

The snowshoe tracks actually didn't continue much farther, though.  Not far past this aspen grove they disappeared and we were left with just ski tracks going uphill, which I had learned the hard way in the past were not a good idea to try and follow.

So we changed course and Josh broke trail downhill, carrying Ivan with him.  Ginny followed close behind, and I lost sight of them for a while stopping to take pictures.  None of them turned out well enough to post here, and I eventually caught back up with them taking a breather with Gothic Mountain in the background.

I often ended up behind from stopping to take pictures.  Ginny decided I'd fallen too far behind at this point and raced back to me, which I found adorable.

Gothic Mountain's presence was impossible to ignore, and demanded regular stops to look back and justify additional pictures.

I loved the dichotomy of the stark, straight lines of the aspens and the soft, sweeping curves of the ski trail coming down the ridge.

After the hike we just drove around a bit looking for other things to shoot, which were frankly everywhere.  Like this wind-carved snow on the side of the road.

Past the resort town of Mt. Crested Butte a weary cross-country skier carried his sticks uphill.

Back at Josh's place the shooting wasn't over, as a simple wooden fence pointed the way to the south side of Crested Butte itself.

Just a glorious day in a beautiful mountain paradise.  The hike and the conditions were everything I could have hoped for.  I had such a great time that I talked the family into going back for spring break!

Crested Butte: Washington Gulch, Part I

The highlight of my trip to Crested Butte a couple of weeks ago was definitely a snowshoe hike in Washington Gulch with Ginny, my buddy Josh, and his dog Ivan. Bluebird skies, no wind, temperatures in the low 30s -- conditions were absolutely perfect. And with no other plans for the day, we were free to take our time starting and had no set turnaround point. It was a very carefree feeling.

But of course, we couldn't let it be too easy.  So we decided to start off by abandoning the nice, packed, gradual trail and heading up to Meridian Lake ...

... which amounted to a few hundred yards of going pretty much straight up the ridge.  Got the heart pumping, at least.

Gothic Mountain was obligingly photogenic, as was Mt Baldy behind it to a somewhat lesser extent.

The lake was worth the climb -- quiet, snow-covered and picturesque.

Danelle's mom -- an accomplished painter -- gave this shot about the highest praise I can think of when she saw it on Facebook.  She said it looked like a painting, and did a couple of small paintings of her own based on it.

The trail got much more gradual as we followed the ridge line.  Josh wanted to continue climbing to the next ridge on the other side of the lake.  I felt plenty rugged enough.

Barren aspens and long shadows combine to form an interesting pattern of lines.

A glimpse back to the southeast with Mt. Crested Butte on the left, and then into the trees.

Click here for Part II.

Butler Gulch Trail

After taking a few weeks to go through all the shots from our Florida trip, I was long overdue to get out for a hike and take some pictures here in Colorado.  And I'm getting more and more particular about trying to shoot in the best possible light, which means starting early.  So just after 5:00 Saturday morning I was in the car headed for the Butler Gulch Trail west of Empire.

I finally remembered to bring the cheap headlamp I got at REI months ago, and I was glad I did.  It was still pretty dark out when I got to the trailhead a little after 6 a.m.  But it wasn't too long before the skies to the east started to lighten and I was earnestly scouting for a spot to shoot the sunrise.  This wasn't it, but it was still worth a stop and a few snaps.

Just in time I found what I was looking for -- an open meadow with a decent view to the east.  I didn't exactly get the explosion of color in the sky I had hoped for, but nonetheless found the scene looking toward Stanley Mountain pretty beautiful.

There are no pictures of the next 90 minutes or so of my hike, because the trail eventually got so steep and I was doing so much postholing that I had to put my camera away to free my hands to help with the climb.  I was feeling pretty puny, and wondering how I'd gotten in such bad shape that I was struggling so much with a trail that was supposed to be easy/moderate in difficulty.  Eventually I decided the tracks I'd been following couldn't possibly be marking the main trail, and turned around.

My descent proved much quicker than my ascent, and I soon saw a couple of cross-country skiers through the trees on what was obviously "the" trail.  They jokingly confirmed that they had seen my tracks veering off a ways back and wondered where I was going.  I was just glad to be back on something much wider, more packed and more gradual.

I followed the skiers above treeline, looking for a good spot to shoot the vista and the beautiful patterns the wind was carving in the snow.  An attempt at that summit was out of the question -- I was pretty wiped out from my earlier efforts off the trail.

I didn't spend nearly as much time up here as I'd hoped.  I'd lost feeling in my toes a while ago, and in just the short time I took my fingers out of my gloves to shoot the last scene and this one they'd quickly gone numb, too.  There were plenty more pictures I wanted to take.  I just didn't think it was worth an extremity to get them.  So I quickly packed up and headed back the way I'd came.  The skiers had opted for a quicker return straight down this face.

I assumed I had lost the main trail after shooting the sunrise.  But it turned out I had done so even earlier when I was looking for a spot to shoot.  This is where it happened -- I'd headed left toward some open space, and forgot while shooting that the main trail was off to my right.  So I kept following what were eventually only ski tracks that were likely made by folks coming back down rather than going up like I was trying to do.

Red Mountain in the distance, with some nice sunlight streaming through a break in the gathering clouds.

As I was driving back home I stumbled on a nice bonus -- these seven ladies out for brunch.

I don't know what scent this gal had picked up, but she seemed quite enamored by it.  And she and several others seemed quite pregnant, too.

I watched the girls' club for a while, hoping they might do something interesting.  They seemed content not to, so my attention wandered until I spied this striking frozen waterfall further up the slope.

One little ewe was smaller and darker than the others, which I assumed meant she was younger.  Whatever the case, she was definitely the cutest of the bunch.

The hike took me almost exactly four hours, and given my adventure off the trail I really don't know how much distance I covered.  My best guess is only about six miles.  Definitely seems like a place worth returning to when the wildflowers are blooming.  If I do, I'll just have to be sure to pay more attention to where I'm walking!

Timberline Falls

The mountains finally got some snow this week. So while most of Denver headed to the ski resorts (at least it seemed that way looking at the traffic on I-70), Josh Futterman and I made plans to go up to Rocky Mountain National Park for some snowshoeing. This was sunrise from Table Mesa Road in Boulder.

The ranger I talked to yesterday said it wasn't supposed to be too windy today. He lied.

Looking north toward the Mummy Range.

Nice view of Taylor Peak.

The Loch was easily the windiest area on the whole hike. Hard to tell from this shot, even though you can see the snow whipping around on Andrews and Taylor Glaciers. But it felt like getting sandblasted on the uncovered parts of my face.

This poor guy's hat blew off when he was about halfway across and made it all the way to shore. I was able to grab it for him, then asked if I could take a picture of his snotsicles because they were so awesome. I don't think I actually used the word "snotsicles," though.

Josh led almost the entire way. His poles were a greater asset for breaking trail than my camera.

The best part of having a companion is so they can provide some scale for your pictures. And so they can give you some of their food when you didn't bring enough. And some of their sports drink after you lost one of your water bottles sliding down a slope. And the whole trail-breaking thing mentioned above. And to make the whole day more enjoyable in general.

Not surprisingly, the going got tougher as we got higher.

Josh somehow spotted this ptarmigan against the snow. If I were a predator, I'd starve.

I understand Timberline Falls is somewhat more dynamic in the summer.

This was the "trail" leading from the falls up to Lake of Glass and Sky Pond, our planned destination. After four miles and 1,400 feet of elevation gain, I wasn't really feeling up to tackling this. Josh graciously agreed to turn back.

The Loch appears deceptively tranquil, but the wind was just as bad on the return trip. At least it was at our backs this time, but iceboats would have made the crossing go much better.

Josh said this picture looking back towards the Sharkstooth formation from the Glacier Gorge trailhead wouldn't come out because I was facing the sun. So I had to put it in here. Nyah, nyah nyah!

We covered the roughly eight miles in almost exactly five hours. It was easily the most tiring snowshoe trek I've ever done, and one of the more exhausting hikes in general. But still a blast as always. Here's to living in Colorado!