Thursday morning. It’s getting progressively harder to drag myself out of bed for sunrise, but I manage to do it anyways, in spite of the blasé weather reports (even more sun, even more clear skies… woo hoo) and past-peak condition of the local aspens. My destination for the morning is only a short drive away - the roadside overlook at the Dallas Divide, where CO-62 crests a high saddle between the San Juan Mountains to the south, and the Uncompahgre Plateau to the north. In the pre-dawn darkness, I find that the big gravel pullout on the other side of the highway is pretty packed - another workshop group has found its way here first. I set up near the end of the tripod line, and the other photographers and I watch as the sun rises over the Uncompahgre Wilderness to the east, cresting the high summits and gradually painting the Sneffels Range in early morning light. Though parts of the intervening slopes are barren, the glow of the morning sun covers this up nicely, and the scene is soon suffused in warm, beautiful light. I work a variety of close and long compositions including the mountains and the trees. No clouds in the sky, nor snow on the peaks - but the landscape is still quite lovely, nevertheless.
The rest of the morning is spent gradually working my way eastward back toward Ridgway, turning off onto the various county dirt roads that cut into the foothills below the Sneffels Range, and poking around for interesting scenes and compositions. County Road 9 is the first such turn-off, just a few miles to the east of the Dallas Divide. The road cuts through the Double RL (Ralph Lauren Ranch), featuring impressive views of the mountainous wall to the south. However, the aspen groves further up the road are pretty spotty, and I fail to see much worth coming back during sunset or sunrise. I turn around near an old, apparently abandoned cabin just before a construction site by the edge of the road, and move onward to the east.
County Road 7 is next to the east. The drive up involves an easily passable but increasingly bumpy dirt-and-gravel ride approximately seven miles uphill. Along the way, I photograph the reflection of the mountains in a roadside pond, and continue onward to the border of a meadow below Mt. Sneffels, where I decide to pause for photographs. Here, a stand of brilliant aspens provides a nice foreground element, while the mountain cirque flares outward like an amphitheatre in the background. After taking some scout shots and admiring the foliage, I decide to come back to this location for sunset tonight — perhaps the last and best bit of autumn color on this side of the San Juans.
Almost back in town, I turn off the highway and drive past a few residential blocks before turning uphill again along County Road 5. This dirt road is the best-graded of the three, and it’s an easy ride to the top another plateau that offers sweeping views of Sneffels Range from a slightly different perspective, with Mt. Sneffels itself further back and to the right of the scene compared to the direct view on CR-7. After scouting around this road as well, I decide to return to the end of this road, in front of a large open field by the roadside, for sunrise tomorrow. It’s late morning now, and the sunlight has become increasingly harsh and ugly for large landscapes. I beat a hasty retreat back to Ridgway and grab another takeout brunch - this time, a breakfast platter of eggs, sausage, and home fries from Greenwood’s across the street - before returning to my hotel room for my lazy mid-day rest.
In the afternoon, after filling the car’s tank again and airing up the tires (one of which has sprung a pesky tire pressure warning since the cold of early morning), I make my way back west to County Road 7, and meander up the dirt road toward Mt. Sneffels. I stop again at the roadside pond, where the light has changed significantly since the morning (and the pond reflection has disappeared beneath a pesky breeze), but it is quite beautiful nonetheless. After admiring the scene and stopping to identify some of the local flora, I continue up the road. Just before the meadow overlook, I pause by the roadside to photograph some of the aspens on the hillside to my right (west), which are beautifully backlit in the afternoon sun. Then, it’s onward to the sunset spot.
Unsurprisingly, I am joined by quite a few other vehicles (and their occupant photographers) in the road curve above the meadow. An(other) entire photography workshop follows shortly thereafter. Thankfully, everyone is quite gracious and jovial, and mindful of each other’s equipment as we pick our tripod spots above the meadow. After setting up my timelapse, I start by shooting various compositions of the nearby aspen trees with golden backlight, before moving on to the mountains and to other parts of the meadow. One of the workshoppers is kind enough to keep an eye on my tripod and my backpack, enabling me to jog a short distance further down the road, where the valley view opens up somewhat, and the amphitheater-like appearance of the mountain wall becomes much more apparent. I take some photos of this mountainous wall and its snowfields, along with a somewhat unhealthy number of panoramas, before returning to my tripod position to finish out the afternoon. I thank my elderly workshop neighbor for watching my stuff, and repay her by sharing some intel about the view further down the road; on my advice to focus more on the mountains and less on the meadow (which has already fallen into shadow by now), she relocates shortly thereafter. As the sun’s last light reaches the summit of Mt. Sneffels, I clamber back into the car, eager to get a headstart back downhill and back into Ridgway for dinner and an early night.
On Friday, my final day of exploring around Ridgway before heading home, I catch one last sunrise beside a field near the end of County Road 5, where I’m joined by a herd of grazing cattle (none too excited to be disturbed by us photographers, our cars, and our clackety-clack tripods). The view is fronted by a forest of aspens in the mid-ground (again, patchy in their yellow, green, and barren-white appearance after several nights of high wind) with Mt. Sneffels looming to the west, in the background. There are no workshop groups with me this morning - just one or two other photographers who work the scene and move on shortly after daybreak. After setting up my tripod, I too walk around, composing different shots with my long lens and the distant mountains. Overall, it’s yet another ho-hum sunrise (indeed, nothing I’ve seen all week has compared to the dramatic sunsets I saw earlier in Kebler Pass), but the air is fresh and it’s a treat to be outside and well away from all vestiges of my normal life; I’m fine with savoring it for just a little while longer. After dawn, I take my singular trip selfie against the fence above the field. Then, it’s back into town; on the way downhill, I briefly stop to shoot a long telephoto shot toward Owl Creek Pass and Courthouse Mountain, miles and miles above Ridgway in the distance. I make a mental note to try for a similar composition closer to sunset, when the rock wall to the town’s east will be lit by the setting sun.
Back in Ridgway, I pass most of the mid-day hours reading, resting, watching TV, and napping in my hotel room, happily enjoying my vacation (it’s my damn vacation!) now that the lion’s share of the landscape photographing and the being artistic and adventurous and creative-ing is done for the week. In the afternoon, I hop in the car and pop a few blocks to the west (past the single stoplight intersection in town) and leave the car parked at Hartwell Park, a delightful little green space where tall, old oaks grow above the town’s central square. After checking a few restaurants, I eat an early dinner at El Agave Azul (a delicious fajita platter and a big mug of ice-cold horchata) before taking a walk back down Sherman Street, to the road bridge that leads out of the town. Here, I set up my penultimate timelapse of the trip: a view of the Uncompahgre River as it curves its way out of town, with the buildings and cottonwoods of the nearby ranch in the mid-ground, and the eastern end of the Sneffels Range looming above in the back. Naturally, since it’s my final night in Colorado and I’ve decided not to leave town, this is also the first time in five days that there have been clouds in the sky at either golden hour. No matter, I say to myself. It is quite obvious to me that if I were to drive up into the mountains along one of the county roads, the clouds would surely vanish or become mispositioned, and I’d be photographing another sunset-mediocrity sandwich. Such is the luck, and the self-protective logic, of the jaded landscape photographer. I make do as best as I can, getting some lovely simple shots of the river and the distant mountains.
After taking a brief timelapse from the bridge, sensing an opportunity for a second shoot before sunset, I quickly jog back to the car and relocate up the road, to a quiet residential sidewalk on the west side of town, where I capture some footage looking eastward toward Owl Creek Pass and Courthouse Mountain as they catch the fiery rose colors of the day’s last light. As the sky grows dark and evening sets in, I make my back to Hartwell Park, wanting to spend a bit more time walking around Ridgway’s main strip at night. I take a few photos during my blue-hour meander around town, admiring the storefronts, the cozy-lit restaurants, and the Spanish faux-colonial architecture lit by string lights and street lights at dusk. It’s a cute place, and I’m glad I got to visit and see it in a fine mood and a good season. Then it’s back to the car (traipsing across the grass below the oaks in the park, which is now lit by tiny warm lanterns), and back across the highway intersection to the hotel for one final night.
In the morning, after packing the car and leaving my keys at check-out, I make a breezy, fun drive (playlist blaring, cruising along and clocking in just under two hours) from Ridgway up to Grand Junction, where I’ll catch my return flight to Boston via Denver. Grand Junction’s main boulevard to the airport has hardly changed from what I remember over three years ago, when Jane and I flew out here and drove to meet Lindsey in Moab in April 2021. The nostalgia hits right down to the Denny’s where I grab brunch before my flight, which becomes suddenly familiar the moment I make the left turn over double-yellow lines and two lanes of traffic into its parking lot. Jane and I made the same turn into this parking lot in 2021, but we ultimately had to skip out of the sit-down meal due to a long wait (unacceptably long, amidst the COVID-cautious state of the world at that time), and we ultimately went through a Wendy’s drive-thru and ate in a parking lot just down the road instead. After a long layover in Denver (featuring not one, but two Jamba Juice smoothies - once again, it’s my damn vacation), I’m return home to Boston late Saturday night, with my longest solo photography trip (well… at least, as a semi-professional adult) under my belt.
