Day Nine - Spanish Peaks and the Cuchara Valley

Okay, the final post for my 2018 California Roadtrip. Home tomorrow. I'll be glad for a break. In planning for the trip, I knew it was going to take a day and a half to get home from the Sand Dunes, so I chose my detour route down CO-12 just to see the area around Cuchara, where Michael and Kay had for years taken their family on vacation when the kids were young. Just hearing about it made me think I'd like to see it - it's just taken 40 years or so. But choosing the highway was the only prep I'd conducted.

These are the Spanish Peaks viewed from Co Rd 450 just S of US-160, NW of La Veta. They're impressive, right? So impressive, I decided West Spanish Peak was probably Pike's Peak.

And that was fine the closer I got (it kept getting more impressive) but eventually, after I passed through La Veta with no references there at all to Pike's Peak, I decided it had to be some other mountain. I've since looked up Pike's Peak and if I'm ever in the area (the right area) I will probably check out the real Pike's Peak.

This view of the mountain reminded me of my last trip to Big Bend (in spite of all the greenery). Remember in my Big Bend post I told you about magmatic dikes? Those igneous intrusions into the earth's crust that were left when layers of other, softer rock eroded? That's what got my attention when I saw this view. West Spanish Peak is, of course, the mountain center stage. And, between us are a 7920 ft ridge hiding the mountain's lower reaches, then the Cucharas River, and finally CO-12, winding south in Rilling Canyon.

A few miles down the road I came upon The Devil's Stairsteps. I thought, "cool, they're all over the place." And that was satisfactory - until I googled said Stairsteps. The Colorado Geological Survey made things a little more complicated - well, suggested it was a little more complicated than I had thought. I think I understand what they're telling me, but the explanation doesn't quite make sense (to me), so I'll leave it at that for now. Maybe I'll get back to this somewhere down the pike, but it's too much to take on just now.

This is a farm/ranch alongside the highway in Cottonwood Canyon, two and a half miles north of the town of Cuchara. Nice.

This is the view looking west (and uphill), south of Cuchara still on CO-12, just a mile SE of Boyd Mt (which is out of frame to the right). That's all, I just liked the clouds.

And, finally, the view looking west across North Lake. Thus far I'd been well pleased with my chosen route through Cuchara. But this lake is North Lake and you'd expect the next similar size lake just a mile and a half south down the road to be South Lake, Right? Wrong! That lake is Monument Lake.

First the dikes, then Monument Lake - I'm too tired for this. My vacation is over - now I'm just driving home. Get some sleep in Dalhart tonight, have brunch with my cousin Rachel in Amarillo tomorrow, drive back to Austin and sleep for a week. Oh, yeah - then write the blog posts. Done!

Day Nine - Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve

Great Sand Dunes NP and Preserve hasn't got an awful lot of infrastructure to take care of - a Visitor Center, Campsites, parking areas, and privies - and yeah, a huge sand box. A satellite view shows a semicircle of sand 7.5 mi north to south embraced by two creeks, Medano on the east and Sand on the northwest. The creeks - at least Medano Creek seems to come and go of its own volition as far as I can tell, but I haven't found a very good written description, though there are plenty of pictures of families playing in the cool, clear, shallow creek.

I didn't stick around very long - got my pictures and got out - but that should not be taken as a poor recommendation on either the park or dunes, which are impressive. It's not the greatest thing you'll ever see but, if you're ever close, take the time to let the amazement wash over you. There's really not a lot left to say, so I'll cease and desist and let you consider the dune photographs on your own.

This dearth of commentary is really humiliating and I find it inexplicable. The exigencies of finishing these last couple posts, I suppose. There will be one more post tomorrow to close out my 2018 California Roadtrip.  Enjoy the pics.

Day Nine - From Chama, NM back up to CO

On the ninth day of the trip I left Cortez, CO on US-160 in the dark headed for Pagosa Springs and generally skirting the southern edge of the San Juans. But, when they ran over into NM I did too - down to Chama. And the drive northeast from Chama back to Colorado and into the San Juans was an absolute pleasure. A sunrise more or less hidden by low clouds didn't concern me much, as long as I had enough light to capture the area on camera that I was enjoying so much.

This shot was just west of Chama if I remember correctly. I'd only seen one truck on the road since I left Colorado, so I just stopped on the road and shot this out the driver's window. It was kinda threatening rain, but it was all show - not a drop all day.

I haven't a clue whether this is in NM or CO, but it's between Chama and CO-17 mile marker 14. The reason I took it was that I saw an elk making tracks across country and hoped I might get a good shot. I always like to see critters in the wild.

I think I figured out where this shot was taken, from CO-17 looking ESE along the valley of the Rio de los Pinas.  More than that I can't tell you, because the Google Street View images I'd normally use to confirm my suspicions are two or three generations old and, with lots of snow, aren't very helpful in identifying such spots.

This shot was only possible because traffic was so light I had the luxury of creeping along CO-17, negotiating the switchbacks above Elk Creek Campground while looking for photo ops. Had I been going any faster, I'd never have noticed this window through the pines.

This was one of those sequential shots I clicked off as I walked back to the car (out of frame to the left) across the road. The view just took over. The aspens leafing out didn't hurt the aesthetics any.

This is a better look up the Conejos River Valley than the earlier one peeking through the trees. And the photo op was much more evident and compelling.

I have got to start enabling GPS on my camera if I can't remember any better than this. I should say I have to find out if my camera actually has that capability and, if so, enable it for these road trips.

Anyway, we'll pass through the San Juans pretty quickly and, once past Alamosa, it'll be only a hop, skip, and a jump to the turnoff to Great Sand Dunes NP.

Day Eight - The Dirty Devil River and Moki Dugway

I have a confession to make. The reference to the Dirty Devil River is really marginal; 90% of the post will be about Moki Dugway, but let me explain. A couple of years ago I stumbled across a blog written by an outdoorsman with all that implies. He was describing a cross-country kayak trip down the Dirty Devil River. He had me right there with the name of the river. Even though the river's lack of depth wouldn't float the kayak for a considerable portion of his run, in the back of my mind (with all the cobwebs, etc) I wanted to see the Dirty Devil on one of my trips to Utah. This is it.

The bridge is at Hite Crossing, where the SR-95 highway bridge spans the Colorado River. And the Dirty Devil? Where the Colorado is hidden by the orange foreground feature on the left, go upstream a wee bit and you'll see a sandy beach on the far side of both rivers - this is the confluence of the Dirty Devil and the Colorado Rivers. But, since the bridge is there, I might also mention that Hite Crossing is often referenced as the upper extent of Lake Powell.

Alrighty then! On to Moki Dugway. Driving south on SR-261 you perhaps shiver once and drive on - slowly. Five mph, 10% grades, narrow gravel road? But only one mile to change your mind? They could have mentioned this 23 mi north - I'm just sayin'.

Oh, great! Try to keep from sliding off a steep gravel road to your death and worry about falling rocks too?

I think of this as the point of no return - where quite a few travelers apparently use various stickers to make their final statements before the descent - just in case the vehicle goes ballistic at some point.

If you get through this, that's your escape route (SR-261). Its fairly straight, really level, and not too heavily traveled. You can make a quick getaway and never have to come back. The 3 mi, 1100 ft descent road was constructed in 1958 by Texas Zinc, a mining company, to transport uranium ore from the mine in Fry Canyon to the Mexican Hat processing mill.

The view from the top. The meandering gravel road below and the valley trying to contain it share the name Valley of the Gods. I've not explored the valley but I understand many make comparisons between Valley of the Gods and Monument Valley - you know, John Wayne and John Ford, and the Seventh Cavalry?

The switchbacks. That doesn't look so bad. They are narrow though, and don't forget those falling rocks! Hey, does that look like it can handle opposite direction traffic? Surely no one in his right mind would drive UP this road. Right? Oh. . . I never thought of that.

Oh, sh. . . my worst nightmare! And look at the rocks around the rim - some are as big as a car! Let those guys pass. . . then get back down to the real road.

Valley of the Gods - right. I'm only half way down. . . if that butte were made of chocolate, it could be a Hershey's Kiss. It already looks kinda like it's melting. . . never mind. That ridge behind the butte looks interesting.

Ah, the escape route. It looks clear, no traffic at all that I can see. Looks like I'll make it out of here yet. Good luck if any of you ever decide to descend Moki Dugway.

Now wait! This isn't RIGHT! Nobody said ANYTHING about the escape route being guarded by GIANT CLAMS!

Day Eight - Utah Hwy 12 and Escalante

The last time I passed this way was in May 2014 but I was going the opposite direction, from Capitol Reef NP to Bryce Canyon NP. The places I stopped at both times hadn't changed very much, but the rest was only vaguely familiar. It's why, if I stop to shoot something I spotted from the highway, I always try to look around before getting back in the car to see if I've missed something of interest. It's a good habit and I have never regretted it. It still surprises me how much different things look when you're headed the other way.

After leaving Bryce Canyon I headed east on Utah Hwy 12 towards the town and the river named Escalante. Before I got there, however,  I encountered this pair of grand monoliths - A fine library or courthouse on the left and and a terrific amphitheater on the right. Never mind that you can't go inside either of them; the very small town of Henrieville (pop. about 230), about half a mile down the road to my right doesn't really need either just now - they have plenty of time to grow into them.

 This overlook is called Head of the Rocks and it's about 40 mi ENE of Bryce Canyon's entrance (as the crow flies) and 2-3 mi south of UT-12's bridge over the Escalante River. But what surprised me about the view is that it captures the three highest peaks of the Henry Mountains: Mt Ellen, Mt Pennell, and Mt Hillers. And you should know than the Henry Mountains were the last mountain range added to the map of the 48 contiguous United States (1872). Prior to that they were referred to as the Unknown Mountains and the Navajo still refer to the range as Dził Bizhiʼ Ádiní  ("the mountain whose name is missing").

This frame is nearly adjacent to the preceding one - I was panning too quickly, I guess. UT-12 heads off to the right, then swings around into the frame about 3/4 of the way up the right edge, curves towards the camera, and dives behind the foreground and goes north near the bottom left corner of the frame. Got that? Now try to pick up the highway in the preceding frame and follow it's path towards Mt Ellen in the upper left corner. Isn't this fun?

The Head of the Rocks area looks pretty dry when you're standing there looking down at the gyrations UT-12 makes heading north. But very quickly you come to this pull-off that seems a little less hostile.

This bit of red rock is just across the road from where you parked. You notice the wind has picked up here so you might leave your hat in the car as you stretch your legs. But the wind is keeping things cool and you know the river crossing is just up ahead.

That was some kind of pass or something whether it was named or not, because the road just kinda drops you down into this narrow canyon that seems really happy with the amount of water it has. If you were just out for the day, you'd want to explore this place.

The river's just up ahead, I think. There are a few places you can pull off the road and walk down to the river, but this day there was no room for another car. I guess I'll have to content myself with the pictures I took there last time. There's a picture from that visit here (the last photo).

After about three or four miles you climb out of the small canyon, but there's still lots of green till then. The highway tags along with Calf Creek, that drains into the Escalante.

A few more miles along you come to Calf Creek Overlook and can look down on it from above. Somewhere down there is a waterfall and a road follows the creek most of the way to the falls. But this view isn't of someplace you'd want to be lost.

I turned around to walk back to the car and the view across the highway wasn't half bad. Boulder Creek waters this valley and apparently does a nice job of it. The road comes down off the mountain and turns due east into the town of Boulder at the head of the valley.

I wasn't alone all the time. As I approached a curve I saw three deer waiting to cross the highway and I turned onto a dirt track and stopped, thinking I might get a picture or two before the critters disappeared into the woods. One bold one crossed without giving me a thought, and I clicked off a few shots. Another was eying me suspiciously from across the road, and the third was grazing and couldn't have cared less about the guy in the car. Eventually, number two decided to give it a go and started across, eyeing me all the way. The Ford pickup managed to miss this untrusting soul - barely - and went on its way. The hungry one looked up at the screech of tires, found itself alone and crossed very nonchalantly. Number Two, above, still thought I had something to do with it.

Here are Mount Ellen and the rest of the Henry Mountains from the Larb Hollow Overlook. I had intended to provide a link to the same view from my 2014 visit. But, for some incomprehensible reason the picture I had in mind wasn't included in that old post. The reason I wanted to show them both was to compare the views with and without snow on the ground. It really makes a difference.

Oh, all right. Here it is - even though thirteen pictures is too many for one post. You're welcome.

Day Eight - Bryce Canyon Revisited

So, the visit to Cedar Breaks seems to have adjusted my point of view in some manner. As you'll see, these pictures, taken from the same overlooks as my previous Bryce Canyon tours, are much more concerned with the composition and aesthetics of what I'm seeing than the overpowering magnificence of the "Grand View". Addressing Cedar Breaks' minor position relative to Bryce Canyon, I brought that "smaller" view here, finally able look past the obvious first impressions of the park.

It probably also had something to do with the time of day. Arriving in the dark has a lot to be said for it. First Light is always a good time to be out with a camera. That's Navajo Mountain on the horizon, about 83 miles southeast. How often do you get to see that far nowadays? It was certainly worth getting up and driving through the wee hours for.

I'm not really sure which overlooks I was shooting from this morning, but it probably doesn't really matter anyway. Any time you can confine Bryce Canyon to a quarter of the frame, you can be proud of yourself for overcoming the obvious. And having seen this small view, you can add it to your treasures.

Oops. Two thirds of the frame is cliffs and hoodoos. But, even so, it would have been a sin to waste the morning sun and not take this shot. Does Bryce Canyon make you want some Orange Sherbet, or maybe a Dreamsicle?

The sun's high enough now to overpower almost any view in that quadrant, but the shadows are strong too. If you can avoid lens flare, you've done well. The other alternative is to incorporate it. I do that occasionally,  but usually trying to salvage an otherwise good shot. In this case I let the flare in my viewfinder determine how far left my aim needed to go.

Yes, there's a lot of orange cliff here and a bit more in the background, but I still think my small view winning the day. The small view lets you study the details.

Think of this as an intermission of sorts. Weathered wood, whether in the form of planks on an old barn or fence, or long-dead trees scattered on a forest floor, has always held me in thrall. The texture is a big part of it - it's never long before you're thinking about splinters or see yourself standing there with a dry branch broken off in your hand.

Okay, back to the orange sherbet canyon and it's hoodoos. We'll get back to the small view but first, instead of looking out to the horizon and seeing everything, look down a little and you see a couple of ridges instead of thirty or fifty. Detail. Do you see the square dance going on halfway up the second ridge? Shadows or hoodoos, this canyon is alive.

Still looking down at some angle below the horizon, you can "zoom in" (i.e., focus on) less stuff, and it's easier to get your head around (and enjoy) the fewer details you're taking in. What, for example, is that convocation of hoodoos just beyond that central ridge? Well, it is Utah - maybe its a meeting of petrified Mormons (no offense, intended).

These two shots, above and below, are some of the same general features but are a tribute to the flexibility of a nice zoom lens. The hoodoos can be whatever you want - sandstone or limestone for all I care - but the detail is there and your curiosity can be turned loose and you can become lost for awhile in the picture.

Faith and Begorrah! There's actually a person in one of Whiskey Papa's landscapes. Come on, there have been others. I remember there were seven people in one of the White Sands pictures - #6.

Come right up to the edge and look down. Perspective gets pretty interesting when there are so few straight lines. It's like bumping up the intensity over a shot that relies on a road or telephone poles, or a fence line to remind you about perspective.

Remember, more to come, but at a more relaxed pace. Check back every few days. I'll let you know when the roadtrip's over.