Valles Caldera National Preserve

I'd seen a lot of wonderful things during my first two days in New Mexico.  But the whole reason I went was to experience winter, and instead I'd had sunny skies and temperatures in the 60s.

I had one step left.  Everything hinged on Valles Caldera National Preserve.

To spoil the suspense right off the bat, Valles Caldera came through!  They didn't simply have snow, but they'd just gotten a fresh inch or two the prior evening.  The view at this vista was broken only by the tracks of earlier hikers.

The hike I'd planned for myself was on the Hidden Valley Trail, which fittingly doesn't actually appear on any maps.  A helpful ranger guided me to the trailhead.  The trail has no signage, so I relied on old tracks to guide me.  The only fresh tracks as I looked back were my own.

I was mostly successful working from the old tracks, basically just looking for the most heavily trafficked paths.  That meant crossing and re-crossing a creek that wasn't exactly frozen completely solid several times, and backtracking more than once when what seemed like the right set of prints fizzled out.

Soon enough I reached the trail's namesake valley, which I was somewhat surprised showed no signs of habitation.  The valley was small and secluded yet still easily accessible, with the East Fork of the Jemez River running through it.  Seemed like a perfect spot for a homestead, but then again I'm no pioneer.

I could have hiked up the river all day.  Temperatures were only in the upper 20s, but with the sun shining brightly and not a whisper of wind it was perfectly comfortable.

The trail doesn't end at any natural landmark, but rather at a fence marking the boundaries of the preserve. 

I'm not exactly sure how the land outside the preserve is used -- ranching, maybe?  Whatever the case, anyone traveling downriver is made aware when they've reached the preserve.

There were a couple of occasions when I didn't trust the ice to hold me, especially after having sun beaming down on it all day.  I even revised my return route in one spot to cut straight across dry land rather than following the bend in the river.

A great landmark near the trailhead is Missing Cabin, which looks like some old ruins but I believe was actually built for the 2003 movie "The Missing."

It's apparently appeared in a couple of movies, which I can completely understand.  The setting is absolutely gorgeous.

The trail is technically less than four miles roundtrip, but I ended up covering 4.09 because I lost sight of where exactly my car was parked and ended up a couple hundred yards in the wrong direction near the very end of my hike and honestly panicking just a bit.  But I eventually retraced my steps and found my vehicle about 2 1/2 hours after I started.  Burned 460 calories in the process, too!

My short time in Valdes Caldera was the perfect cap to my trip.  It reminded me just how much I like -- and frankly, miss -- winter.  Give me cold and snow over heat and humidity any day!

Bosque del Apache, December 2020: Sunrise

My sunrise time at Bosque del Apache on my visit five years earlier had honestly been a little disappointing.  I saw almost no cranes, and the one flock of geese I came across was a little too far away and at a poor angle to the light to get truly dramatic pictures.  I was hoping for better this time.

My first instinct was to head right back to where I had left off the night before since I had seen Sandhill Cranes apparently bedding down for the night there.  Even in the dim predawn light I could tell I'd made the right choice, as the pond had both cranes and geese in abundance.

The cranes began departing before the sun had risen, leaving in small groups.

Standing on the west side of the pond as I was, silhouettes were the order of the morning.

Blast-offs are always enthralling.  The most interesting aspect of the geese's departure was that it didn't build gradually as I'd expected.  As if an alarm inaudible to humans had gone off, the flock rose en masse.  Also interestingly, they didn't really go anywhere.  They just milled about in the sky for a bit before landing right back on the same pond.  Go figure.

Color is mostly in the clouds, and there were at least a few that took on a nice cotton candy hue as sunrise drew closer.

Tough choice on the right composition.  This portrait orientation doesn't have the vast expanse of empty blue sky that the landscape version does, but it also doesn't include any birds.  Still probably the one I prefer of the two.

The moment of sunrise itself was magical as it almost always is.  Just an experience that always makes me glad to be alive.

Even with the earlier blast-off some geese still decided to fly around a bit.  More opportunities for in-flight silhouettes for me!  I took a chance following this small group until the just-risen sun nearly blinded me with its brightness.  But given the shot I was able to get it, I'd say it was totally worth it.

I decided to keep shooting straight into the sun, really enjoying the full effect of golden hour.

This particular goose was wonderfully stationary, anchoring both my wide and close shots of the scene.  I loved the shots I was getting so much I literally jumped up and down and giggled with glee.  Not too many things in life can elicit that sort of a reaction from me, which is why I still love nature photography so much.

As the sun continued to rise and the gold faded, beautiful reflections became visible on the mirror-still surface of the pond.

I caught sight of a Bald Eagle perched on a tree a good distance away, and wasn't able to get any decent shots of it.  But I did take some rare telephoto lens landscape shots that turned out pretty well.

Just a beautiful, calm morning that yielded everything I had hoped for.  I don't know if I'll ever return to Bosque del Apache, only because it would be hard to top my experience this year!

Bosque del Apache, December 2020: Evening

Spending some time with a mixed flock of geese was a great start to my visit to Bosque del Apache.  But what I had really come for were Sandhill Cranes.  After driving most of the Tour Loop I found them, and just in time as golden hour had begun and the birds were starting to head from their feeding grounds to their sleeping sites.

I found a good spot to park off to the side of the road where cranes were regularly flying overhead and light was coming from the right angle, and waited.  My patience was regularly rewarded with flyovers.

I actually had cranes fly by with the sun behind me and with the sun behind them, giving me some variety in my shots.

And being golden hour, the light was generally nice and warm.

I didn't have my D750 on my visit five years earlier, and my flight shots now were crisper with the new body.

For herbivores, Sandhill Cranes can still look pretty majestic in flight.  Not menacing like a raptor, but still impressive.

Most of my shots were, frankly, terrible.  Out of focus, or cutting off body parts, or just otherwise uninteresting.  But when you shoot a high enough volume, some of them are bound to be solid.

I really was pleased with the light.  Most of the flybys were at just enough of an angle so the sun  didn't wash out the birds.

The closer a bird flew by the more challenging it was to get that bird fully in the frame, and with a sharp eye.  Fortunately, I was able to pull it off on a few occasions.

Having gotten my fill of flight shots I packed up and started to head out of the refuge.  But on the way out I passed a pond where a number of cranes had clearly decided to spend the night.  I was happy to hop out of my car and capture this pair in the day's waning light.

My track record with ducks isn't great.  I find them to typically be pretty skittish and reluctant to let me close enough for especially good shots.  So I was shocked that a Northern Shoveler seemed perfectly content to swim idly by at a fairly short distance.  I wonder if the sun was so low at this point that the birds couldn't make out shapes on shore?  Whatever the case, I took my attention off the cranes long enough to take this guy's portrait.

I spent a very relaxing for hours or so at the refuge, and saw what I had come for.  But I still planned a return trip in the morning to catch the sunrise!

Bosque del Apache, December 2020: Afternoon

My third and final Tuesday stop was the Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge.  I had a great albeit chilly initial visit to the refuge five years earlier to see the migrating Sandhill Cranes and Snow Geese.  I was hoping for a comparable experience this time around.

I got three different things right upon my arrival -- warm temperatures, clear skies, and a huge flock of geese at the first pond on the Tour Loop Road.

I had the right ingredients for some great pictures.  All I needed to add to the mix was patience.  So I waited and kept an eye out for birds who were landing or diving in the hopes of special moments.

A small flock of Red-Winged Blackbirds would occasionally take wing as a group.  Not enough to probably call them a true murmuration, but still enough to be interesting.

An even smaller collection of Canada Geese all took wing at once.

Blackbirds again, but I like this shot because of the geese on the ground and the namesake trace of red in their wings they show at this angle.

Ross's Goose coming in for a landing.  I honestly don't know the difference between Ross's Geese and Snow Geese, but I'm confident that iNaturalist does and it says this is a Ross's Goose.  So, Ross's Goose.

The geese had done a full blast-off before I was at the actual pond.  I heard it first, then I watched them circle around for a while as I drove up.  And in the hour I spent there they never did it again, although there was a period when small groups would take flight in progressively closer and closer bunches.

The reason soon became clear -- a coyote just sauntering by, looking for all the world like it had no interest whatsoever in all the birds around.  The birds, for their part, were quite interested in the coyote.

After my hour with the geese I drove the loop looking for cranes, and eventually found them on the North Loop.  Not close enough for great shots, but enough for documentation.

All in all, a really terrific afternoon!

White Sands National Park: December 2020

My second day in New Mexico had the most scheduled stops.  Being just 30 miles from White Sands National Park after my sunrise shoot, that had to be one of them.

I didn't want to spend a long time in the park, having just been there a couple of years ago and with at least three hours of driving still ahead of me.  I decided to hike the Dune Life Nature Trail since it's only a mile loop and I hadn't done it during my 2018 visit.

Not surprisingly, the landscape didn't look much different in winter from how I remembered it in summer: stark, striking, and beautiful.

I liked being able to isolate this Soaptree Yucca from its surroundings.

Reaching the top of a small dune wasn't exactly the same as climbing a 14er, but it still offered a nice view.

Still fond of dead wood, especially when it provides a solid foreground element.

This dormant Fremont Cottonwood looked almost metallic, with its coppery leaves.

Dead wood really wasn't that hard to find along the loop.

The weather was completely calm, without even the hint of a breeze.  Given all the footprints in the sand it hadn't been windy for a while.

The visit and the hike were short, but completely worth it.  The landscape here is so unique it's always a good decision a stop!

Organ Mountains-Desert Peaks National Monument

Winter break has traditionally been a time when I take a road trip in search of, well, winter.  That has always meant going to Colorado so I can see both nature and friends.  Unfortunately, thanks to COVID-19 I wasn't comfortable seeing any friends.  So I decided to head to New Mexico this year instead, where I know absolutely no one.

First stop: the Organ Mountains-Desert Peaks National Monument east of Las Cruces.

As far as looking for winter goes, I was unsuccessful on this stop.  Temperatures were in the low 60s, with not a trace of snow to be seen.  The scenery, however, was still top notch.

Looking to the northwest, I loved the mountains in both the foreground and background and the interesting clouds in the sky.

If warning signs were placed everywhere people had died as a consequence of their bad decisions, the world would be pretty full of signs like this one.

After a 10-hour drive I arrived just in time for golden hour, so I got lots of long shadows and warm light.

Unexpected bonus -- moonrise over the mountains!

I couldn't find one spot where I had both a good shot of sunset to the west ...

... and the last light of day on the peaks to the east.  So I found myself awkwardly jogging my tripod back and forth between two spots about 100 feet apart.

The next morning I headed to the east side of the range for sunrise.  The "census-designated place" of White Sands, New Mexico -- population of roughly 1,500 -- was between me and that sunrise.

More warm tones and long shadows just after the sun's appearance.  And if this shot looks sharper than those from the previous day, that's likely because I noticed that my lens had been sent to manual focus rather than auto focus after I finished the previous day's shooting.  So every time I set a focal point and pushed my auto-focus button that afternoon, apparently nothing was actually happening.  I'm annoyed that I never noticed, and several good compositions turned out to be bad photos because the focus was so poor.  Fortunately, several shots were sharp enough to make the visit not a complete bust.

My only excuse is rust from being out of a regular shooting routine.  So I've forgotten basic steps like checking all my settings.  I would have been much more upset if I hadn't caught it until later in my trip!