Aftermath of a Wildfire

In late June and early July of 2013, a number of fires raged in drought-stricken SW Colorado. Three fires came to be know as the West Fork Fire Complex, which covered 110,000 acres by the time it was contained. The town of South Fork was threatened by the fire, but very few structures were lost. The San Juan and Rio Grande National Forests suffered the worst of the destruction.

Since the fire, monsoon rains came to the tinder-dry forests. I visited the scene of the Papoose Fire less than a month after the inferno raged.

Upon entering the charred woodland, a strong smell of smoke lingered in the damp air. The blackened landscape seemed quite foreign. Pine needles and ash mixed to form a soft carpet on what was once the forest floor. Rain and harsh sunlight now penetrated what was once the tree canopy with ease. Trees were now little more than dark trunks. However, there were signs of life in the midst of devastation.

Small plants and even young aspens penetrated the layer of ash as green dots in the monochrome landscape. Fire is a part of a natural process of renewal, and the environment will quickly become more recognizable.
While some scenes give cause for optimism, others still show the horrors of wildfire. Looking skyward, I was reminded of the barren terrain of Ypres and other apocalyptic battlefields.

The fire's perimeter was readily apparent, even from a distance. Green, lush vegetation abruptly turned to black, dead stumps. Fuels, wind and humidity determined which areas would burn and which would be spared.

After closer inspection, the locations of spot fires could be determined. Small 'advance' fires were all-too-easily sparked by flying embers. Now they are strange patches of darkness in an otherwise colorful wilderness.

Rivers, too, bear the marks of wildfire. From a distance, they seemed to run black with the ash that settled on them or has been washed from bare slopes. Now they are swollen with summer rains that have brought peace to the forests once more.

FromTheHighCountry.com

From The High Country - An Introduction

Many new people have discovered From The High Country this year, and so I thought I'd try to gather some interesting information together in one place.

From The High Country is the result of one man's love for both photography and the wilderness. It came to be when I made the decision to leave a career in the city to live a more simple life in the mountains (take a look at my early blog posts to read about this in more detail). I now spend as much time as possible exploring the wilderness of Colorado, and sharing the best scenery through my photography.

If 2012 was about establishing From The High Country, 2013 is about consolidation and development. I created and self-published my first book, San Juan Inspirations, and currently have a selection of my work on display in a prestigious art gallery.

Almost every image you'll see (whether it's on my website, Facebook or elsewhere), is available as a high quality print that can be ordered directly from my website. Just click on an image to get started. Selected images are available on products that are available from me, such as my annual calendar.

You can follow my work by viewing my seasonal galleries from time to time, following me on Facebook, or by checking on some of my other outlets.

From The High Country is not a tourism page, nor is it the work of a large corporation. Everything you see under the FTHC brand is the work of the same person, with the intention of sharing unique perspectives of mountains, streams, forests, and the flora and fauna within. From time to time, you'll see information on new products that feature my favorite pieces (even simple-living photographers have to make a living!).

In order to continue to develop From The High Country, I have created a very brief survey, so please consider spending a couple of minutes here.

As always, if you have any comments or questions, feel free to contact me.

An Afternoon With Ursus Americanus

It began as a typical summer afternoon. The planned hike was quite short compared to my usual adventures, but the harsh sunlight made me relish the protection of intermittent tree canopies. My destination was a waterfall, but the highlights were to be found off-trail.

The trail followed a creek upstream through a winding valley. Below the trail on the south-facing slope, vegetation was dense and berry-bearing bushes were plentiful. This is excellent bear habitat, but it is easy to become complacent after many hikes without bear sightings. The only signs of wildlife, other than insects, were various tracks across the damp sections of trail.

Little more than 15 minutes from my destination, I looked across the valley as I rounded a corner and noticed an unusual object around 500 ft away. At that distance, it was difficult to identify the golden object under intense sunlight. Suddenly, the round object moved! A blond black bear ambled through steep ground and shrubs, seemingly unaware of my presence.

 

Immediately, I raised my camera and started to shoot, using the medium telephoto lens to get a better view of the magnificent creature. Within around 20 seconds, the bear had disappeared into dense foliage.

After reaching my destination and relaxing by a high country waterfall, I made my way back down the trail. My thoughts were of the bear, and I wondered if I would catch another glimpse (perhaps a little closer). I looked intently at the opposite side of the valley as I passed the location of the sighting, but the bear was either still hidden or had moved to a new spot in the time that I had been away.

I made my way along the undulating trail, checking my surroundings for movement from time to time. Occasionally, the ripe northern gooseberries were too tempting to resist, and they made a sweet distraction from the still-intense sunlight.

Around an hour passed until I saw a large, dark object to my left. Much close than last time, a different black bear was foraging. Darker than the last one, but seemingly unaware of my presence again, the bear wandered through grass and shrubs in the lush vegetation near the stream. Perhaps 100 ft uphill, a nearby mule deer seemed to sense the bear's presence and changed direction. The bear moved quite slowly, and so I had the chance to observe from a safe distance.

The noise of the stream helped to hide any sounds that I made, so I could experience this rare treat without interruption. Despite his or her size and bulky shape, the bear moved with ease though rough terrain and vegetation, using a very sensitive nose and dextrous paws to search for food.
 
As I prepared to leave, I exchanged glances with a Native American symbol of strength and courage. After just a few seconds, the bear returned to foraging, and I continued along the trail.

Black bears are facing ever-increasing human encroachment on their habitats. These great animals are worthy of our respect. They are not the killers shown in movies, but they are wild animals that play an important part in the ecosystems of the North American wilderness.

FromTheHighCountry.com

The Longest Day

June and early July are my favorite times to explore the largest mountains that the Southern Rocky Mountains have to offer. While snow can still be found in the high country, trails are passable without winter gear, and the mid-summer afternoon storm season has not yet arrived. The day of the summer solstice, with around 14 hours of daylight, is the perfect time to take a long mountain hike.

The early morning sunlight penetrated the aspens, bathing the trail in a green glow. As the forest canopy thickened, it provided shelter from the heat of the sun.

As the elevation increased, the trees became more widely spaced. The transition into a different life zone was quite readily apparent as the trees were replaced by hardy wildflowers and exposed rocky slopes.

At this time of year, mountain streams swell with runoff from the high peaks. Wildflowers often line the banks of the streams in stable areas. Rushing water and pika or marmot calls are usually the only sounds in these isolated areas.

The first glimpse of the summit ahead and the surrounding peaks is an unexpected pleasure after a long trek to this point. The faint, rocky path ahead beckons.

While the journey and the experiences are really the purpose of a hike like this, reaching the summit is an exhilarating moment - even on familiar peaks. Being able to see for many miles in mountainous country is a rare treat.

Of course, the journey is only half over at this point, and the wilderness has many more experiences in store....

 

Into The Wild

During a harsh Rocky Mountain winter, a patrolling Colorado Parks and Wildlife officer spotted a young, starving black bear. Weighing only 25 lbs, the bear was taken to a CPW rehabilitation facility. Not only did she survive the winter, but she gained over 100 lbs over the next few months, thanks to the dedication of the staff.

On a warm May afternoon, several CPW officers and volunteers met at the Gunnison field office. Minutes later, a small convoy of vehicles headed north to an undisclosed location. At the edge of a forest, far from the nearest town, the vehicles were parked in a small clearing. The group focused on the polished metal container in the back of one of the CPW trucks.

After being moved from the truck bed to a patch of flat ground, the small crowd closed in. A sliding metal panel was removed, and a healthy black bear poked her head out of the box that had been her home for the last few hours.

With a brief word of encouragement, the bear bolted for the tree line, stopping only to negotiate a deep snow bank separating her from the safety of the woodland.

Within seconds, only a furry outline could be seen through the trees, and the bear had a new home and a second chance at life in the mountains.

Months of hard work by a dedicated team of CPW staff resulted in a few seconds of action as the well fed bear sprinted for the freedom of the forest. Not every wildlife encounter ends this way, so with this in mind it is perhaps even more meaningful to watch successes such as this one.

Lake City Friends of the Bears would like to thank the team at Colorado Parks and Wildlife for allowing us to be a part of the release, and for the work they to do protect Colorado's wildlife.

Rocky Mountain High

Today marks the 44th Earth Day. It's a time to think about our connection with the planet. I feel fortunate to be able to constantly follow the changing seasons in the Rocky Mountains, although the average backyard is full of wondrous sights for those who look closely. Close to home, wildflower seeds are beginning to sprout. Meanwhile on the distant slopes, the snow is receding and shrubs are becoming green again. The aspens are budding, and soon the leaves will be quaking in the wind.

Spring in the Rockies requires flexibility and patience. After an unusually mild winter, over twelve inches of snow fell in one early April day.

Some days are reminders of the amazing high country summers, while others are marked by morning snowfall that melts and evaporates by late afternoon. The prehistoric rock of the highest peaks is very slowly being uncovered.

I chose Rocky Mountain High as the title of this post because it seemed highly appropriate. As both the second state song of Colorado and the most famous song by John Denver (who was extremely passionate about the Rocky Mountains), it's a good choice for Earth Day. The second line, "...coming home to a place he'd never been before", resonates with me. I'll always remember how it felt to arrive in Colorado.

As the Snow Melts

On this first day of spring, I can look around and see that, while the snow around my house can only be found in grimy-looking piles, the mountains are still blanketed. My favorite trails are still buried under several feet of snow. Still, the big thaw is happening, even if it isn't always readily apparent.

The first green shoots and, even better, the first flowers are just weeks or maybe days away. For me, watching the wilderness change is like a gardener and his or her prize tomatoes, or even an animal lover and a young pet. So many people look for a meadow or an aspen stand, but there is also incredible beauty in a fresh leaf or an intricate flower.

With many dirt roads and worn trails, the springtime melting leads to a 'mud season', which is not much fun. Even so, it is an essential part of the yearly cycle of life. Melting snow and ice in the mountains fills streams and rivers, and allows plant life to flourish, which in turn provides food for wildlife.

In some ways, spring is a very dramatic time of the year. In a matter of weeks, the natural world transitions from night (winter) to a new dawn (spring).

This spring will mark a new beginning for From The High Country, too. My new book, San Juan Inspirations will be released this summer, as will a new-look 2014 calendar. To learn more about the book, click here.

Wildlife Conflict

It is an unfortunate fact of life that where people choose to live, there are often problems with wildlife. Perhaps the local deer take a liking to flower beds or cross the road just as people drive by, or maybe a bear tears open a bag of trash. When people and wildlife meet, it is up to us to adapt. After all, it's a small price to pay for living away from the cities and suburbs, and we can hardly negotiate with nature! We have to keep attractants away from the bears, and either sacrifice a few flowers or protect them with wire.

Last year, at least five bears were killed in the small town of Lake City, Colorado. Each case was different, but many would agree that fear and ignorance were common factors. With a year-round population of around 400, that would mean that roughly one bear died for every 80 residents. I wonder if the many wildlife lovers who visit would feel comfortable with those figures.

While there are strong feelings on both sides, it is not something that is discussed very often (although there are a few passionate people working to change this). Some people think nothing of exploiting pictures of distressed bears in order to attract business, but do nothing to prevent more unnecessary bear fatalities.

Chris Parmeter, a wildlife officer for Colorado Parks and Wildlife, wrote a painfully honest account of his dealings with so-called problem bears, and the harrowing, tragic final encounter he had with one bear. I encourage you all to read it, especially if you live in or visit bear country - click here.

Life in a Small Mountain Town

These days, most of us live in cities. Usually, the biggest problem is deciding which restaurant or mall to visit. Many people live, work and play in the same city, and would never have to leave if they didn't want to. Of course, there is a downside. Congestion, crime and pollution are all problems that many cities are faced with.

Imagine leaving it all behind. No more chain stores, malls, overpasses, toll roads or multiplexes. It isn't for everyone. My nearest large grocery store is 50 miles away. I don't even know where the nearest mall is. If you're looking for a quiet place to live and don't count shopping as a pastime, perhaps a small town is right for you.

That's not to say that there are no stores in my small town. There are many hard working people who do their best to provide services to residents and visitors, but when the summer visitors leave there is a limit to what a small town can support, and many businesses close during Colorado's harsh winters. If you decide to live year-round in a small town, it's important to plan ahead. For example, if you're going to have a dinner party in a week or so, be sure to get those unusual spices and drinks when you're in the city. Incidentally, learning to cook well is a good idea when most restaurants are closed for part of the year.

Why live in a small town if it's so much work? For me, it was an easy choice because I'm surrounded by mountains and forests! An unexpected bonus was the sense of community that is readily apparent. I've made many great friends in this town - far more than I did when I lived in a city. Perhaps it takes a certain type of person to live here.

I'd be lying if I didn't mention the dark side of small towns (at least from my experience). While the local bar might be reminiscent of Cheers, there are times when First Blood has been more appropriate in some aspects of town life. There are a small number of truly unpleasant, churlish people who desperately want to feel important. These people are present in every town, but are more noticeable in a population of 400 people. Don't join the right group, upset the wrong person, or raise a point that they didn't think of and you and your business risk being ostracized by their clique.

It's important to ignore such petty disputes, but as a result it is not possible for town residents to work together and reach their collective potential. Still, no town is perfect. After all, I came here for what lies beyond the town limits....

Still interested in small town life? Here's a list of 25 great Colorado towns to visit:
25 small Colorado towns to visit under $100

Waiting For Winter

This time of year can feel like a kind of limbo. The magnificent display of the changing aspens has long since turned into leaf litter on the forest floor. The first flurries of snow have fallen and melted away, and while it still decorates distant summits, no other signs of winter are forthcoming.

The summer visitors and festivals are long gone, but they've left behind a sense of peace. The roads and trails are especially quiet during this period.

In the time between autumn and winter, it would be easy to think that there is little to see in the high country. Still, if you can appreciate the simple things, there is always a new discovery to be made.

On this Black Friday I'm enjoying the silence outside, and the views of the mountains that I'm getting to know like good friends. Living a simple life means that it isn't always possible to take part in the big sales and shopping trends, but a walk in the wilderness is worth more to me than any gift or gadget that I can think of.

“Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home; that wildness is necessity; that mountain parks and reservations are useful not only as fountains of timber and irrigating rivers, but as fountains of life.”  John Muir

To catch up with my latest work at From The High Country, you can go here.

Season's End

Change seems to be constant in the forests and mountains of the San Juans. Familiar trails often yield fresh surprises to the keen observer.

Mushroom season was spectacular but seemingly brief. Individual mushrooms grow to maturity within a few days, and the various species bring additional color to the forest floor at a time when most wildflowers have already peaked.

For the last three weeks, I've been fortunate enough to follow the changing aspen leaves. As I write, I can see golden patches on the surrounding hills, while some aspen stands nearby are already bare.

Though the days are still warm, the first sightings of light snow on nearby peaks have been made. Less than a week ago, I was caught mid-shoot in heavy snow! Just 45 minutes later the sun was shining, and only in shaded areas could evidence of snow be found.

Today is the first official day of fall, which is marked by the autumnal equinox. Due to the early display of fall colors this year I decided to switch from the summer to autumn gallery at FTHC.  Since many of you probably haven't had the chance to see the golden aspens, I also put together this slideshow:



I hope you enjoy the show! Please visit From The High Country for more beautiful images of Colorado.

Transitions

For the last few weeks, the threat of wildfire has loomed over my adopted home. Smoke drifted in the air from time to time, and we all wished for rain to come. At the time of writing, several of Colorado's fires are contained, and heavy rain has been very helpful in reducing the chances of new fires. Daily showers have boosted the growth rate of my fledgling wildflower garden, and an occasional morning walk to check on the seedlings is always an uplifting experience.

Meanwhile, in the high country the flowers fill some of the nearby valleys and gulches with color. Streams and summer showers provide perfect conditions for growth. Dozens of different species can be found once a visitor begins to notice the subtle differences.

I moved from a city with a population of 800,000 to a town of 400 people. The differences didn't end with the surroundings, building types, highways or accents. A small town is a community, and this particular one is home to a lot of friends. I think that the town is really at its best on Independence Day.

You can see the July 4th gallery here, and the new wildflower collection here.

Finally, I've been working on a couple of new projects. I've designed a free desktop calendar for July, and there is a new FTHC email sign up option. The first edition will be released over the next day or two. Thanks for reading!

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.

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.

Did you enjoy this post? I enjoy hearing from you!
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.