Hike to the Sky

So far, the transition from actually living in the mountains to simply looking at them has been easy. But every now and then, I find myself longing to escape to the wilderness and be among the Rocky Mountains.

During the record-setting heat in November, I was not only getting antsy for nature, but for colder weather as well. Luckily, the CU Hiking Club was planning a day hike to Sky Pond in Rocky Mountain National Park.

After sleeping through my alarm and almost missing the departure, a group of 9 strangers and I made it to the trailhead and began our trek. I was immediately relieved to be back at a higher elevation and in the silence of the woods. The 9-mile hike never ceased to amaze me; we passed two waterfalls and two lakes along the way. 

I forgot my microspikes, but still somehow managed to make it up the snow-packed trail to the isolated pond at 10,900 feet. I had seen several high-alpine lakes before, but none of them even came close to this frozen wonder. 

The Pond was almost entirely surrounded by Patagonia-shaped peaks and lightly covered in ice and snow. It was a cloudy day, only adding to the lure and mysteriousness of the seclusion. I began exploring the area, taking shots all around the Pond's perimeter.

There was a weird feeling between my fellow hikers and I while leaving this little slice of heaven. We continued our journey back to lower elevation, back down the mountain and into civilization.  

Bear Claw

Some of my earliest memories are from making the hour long commute from Evergreen, Colorado to Winter Park and driving over Berthoud Pass. The vision of the peak with the iconic bear-claw-looking inscription is forever lamented in my recollection. But every time I drive over the pass, I swear that the Continental Divide looks bigger and even more breathtaking. 

As I was driving back over the pass after a day of skiing, I pulled off the road several times trying to find a perfect setup to shoot the sunset that was beginning to take its shape. Soon an incredible ambient coral light illuminated the tops of the eastern peaks, while a glowing purple sat looming in the base of the valley, welcoming darkness. 

I've never seen such candescent lighting on Berthoud before. I passed an estimated five tourists on the side of the road taking pictures on their iPhones, a record number of viewers for the pass. The light began to disappear quickly, so I set up my tripod and attempted to angle my camera to best absorb light of all sorts. 

I didn't even notice the subtle cloud surrounding the bear claw until I pulled the image up on my computer later that night. 

Frozen Fingers

While there may have been ten inches of fresh powder in Winter Park, CO, I decided to make the hour commute to my home ski resort in search of a photo instead of epic skiing. 

After a morning of complications with running errands for my family, car issues, traffic, and a forgotten ski pass, and with a temperature of -5 degrees, I didn't make it to the chairlift until almost 2:30. With the lifts closing in little over an hour, I rushed over to the Mary Jane side for the best views of the Bear Claw peak, and the valley as daylight ran out. 

I got a few decent photos while skiing, but wasn't pleased. I stopped about 5 times on Berthoud Pass during my drive home. Each time I stepped out of the car into the subzero temperatures, my fingers literally froze pressing the buttons on my camera. I was seriously surprised that the battery didn't accept defeat under the cold. 

At about my third stop, it was getting dark enough to begin shooting car trails. I parked my car, left the heater running, and climbed up a 10-foot snowbank on the first major curve of the Pass. As I began shooting, some guy in a pickup truck shouted out the passenger window at me, asking how the photos were turning out. 

"Great but I can't feel my hands!"

My first attempt failed, so I kept driving, getting more and more frustrated as I got closer to the end of the pass. I took a gamble and decided to try the last turn, or "Big Bend". Again, climbing up the side of a snowbank and switching to my wide-angle lens, I finally found what I was looking for. A scene interesting enough for car trails, dark enough lighting, and yet still enough light to illuminate the mountain in the background with a long exposure. 

The first degree frost bite was worth it.