A Solstice Celebration

It seemed appropriate to celebrate the first day of summer by spending most of it outside. The weather was perfect for a long hike and one of Colorado's highest peaks was the goal.

The trail ascends sharply immediately after crossing a large stream, but shelter from the morning sun is provided by dense woodland. In the many small clearings, wildflowers are abundant. The beautiful death camas is in full bloom, and native columbines are irresistible to honey bees.

The clearings become larger until the treeline is reached and the mountains ahead become readily visible, while distant peaks can be seen when looking back toward the trailhead.

Mountain streams and carpets of wildflowers greet visitors and give evidence of last winter's snowpack. Marmots thrive in the nearby boulder fields and scree slopes and, aside from a few dry seasonal tributaries, there is little evidence of drought. Marsh marigolds line the upper streams until one final crossing leads the hiker away from the lush vegetation and into an arid, alpine environment.

Direction changes in the rocky trail lead to rapid elevation gains, allowing ever more impressive views of the valleys and mountains all around. The trail then becomes very steep, and the final ascent is an exhilarating 10 minutes of scrambling before a surprisingly simple walk along a windy ridge to the summit (marked by a USGS benchmark).

With no sign of adverse weather, the solstice afternoon was a perfect time to be at 14,000 ft.

"Live each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influences of each." Henry Thoreau

All images shown in this post can be found in my summer gallery.

Back In Time

I recently had the opportunity to visit a place that I hadn't been to in 10 years. It holds a special significance because the first visit played a big part in the decision to live in the mountains.

When I first arrived here, I initially thought that I'd never want to leave, and I suppose that is still true, but I haven't lost the urge to explore. In fact, that urge has only intensified since I've been in Colorado.

Forgotten memories flooded back in that town. Little had changed, except ownership of a few businesses (an all-too-often occurrence in mountain towns). Most significantly, I remembered how I felt when I realized that I wanted to call the Rockies home, and I remembered the struggle to make it happen in the years that followed.

Life is not always easy. Everyone has their own unique set of problems. I believe it is how you manage them and maintain or even cultivate your sense of curiosity and playfulness that really matters.

Henry Thoreau once wrote "However mean your life is, meet it and live it: do not shun it and call it hard names. Cultivate poverty like a garden herb, like sage. Do not trouble yourself much to get new things, whether clothes or friends. Things do not change, we change. Sell your clothes and keep your thoughts."

Over The Divide

12 miles and 3200ft. While accurate, these figures are completely inadequate when describing a late spring hike in the Gunnison National Forest. Wager Gulch offers a variety of terrain and is accessible by both hikers and motorized vehicles since the trail is actually County Road 36, a high-clearance dirt road. The beginning of the trail is lined with blackberries and currant bushes, while forest on either side offers protection from the sun. Bluffs seem to offer good growing conditions for western red columbines.

The trail soon meets with the roaring Wager Gulch creek and crosses it as lupines replace columbines and aspens dominate the forest. Alert hikers might find Chief Snarling Bear in the western rock face.

As the trail continues to climb towards the Continental Divide, a reminder of the season and the altitude can be seen in the form of ice where the west fork of the creek flows across the roadway.

The road exists because of the town of Carson, which in turn existed because of silver deposits in the nearby mountains.  Solitary roadside cabin remains mark the final approach to the townsite, which is a welcome sight after a couple of hours of hiking.

The ruins of Carson lie on private land but are accessible by one more water crossing. The buildings have been protected with modern profiled steel roofing, but upon close inspection it is clear that they have suffered at the hands of casual visitors. The town site's accessibilty by jeep have left it vulnerable to vandalism and the interior of several structures is a depressing sight.

Still, all is not lost. In fact, I like to think of Carson as a decoy in some ways. The real treasure lies on the other side of the Continental Divide and is only found by the curious since, like all true treasures, Old Carson is hidden from view.

Old Carson fell into disuse when the price of silver dropped in 1893, and the Carson that most people know was built when gold was found in the mines adjacent to the 'new' site. Now moose and marmots occupy the area.

There are at least two collapsed / backfilled vertical shafts in the area, and all the usual hazards associated with abandoned buildings, so be extremely cautious if you do decide to explore.

Careful study of the area reveals remains of shoes, many cans and a few fragments of stoneware, all providing clues to the lifestyles of the inhabitants. Mining equipment still remaining includes an intact boiler and winding drum.

The area is littered with prospect holes and tailings, yet there are magnificent views in every direction that offer their own rewards.

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Most of these photos (and many more like them) are available at www.FromTheHighCountry.com, where you can buy prints, view slideshows and create your own favorite list that you can share with friends.

Once In A Lifetime

The phrase "once in a lifetime" has been used a lot recently. Two notable examples are the Diamond Jubilee in the UK, and of course the transit of Venus. I have to admit (and I'm probably in a minority) that I don't have a strong interest in either one. When I think of incredibly rare, special events I think of a chance encounter with deer in the depths of winter, where I sat 6ft from a small herd.

I think of the large herd of bighorn sheep that were enjoying the early spring weather when I happened to have my longest (and heaviest) lens with me. My once in a lifetime events happen much closer to home, or at least much closer to me.

An unexpected discovery can make a life-long memory (for me, at least) far more meaningful than a long-planned event. Once again, it is the little things that matter, and I can think of no better way to spend my days than photographing them.

Images in this post can be found here.