Mountain Vacation

Kim and I took our annual trip to the mountains last week. We’ve been refining our vacation strategy over the last several years, having recognized that we want somewhat different things from our trips. Kim wants to do some hiking and trail running, combining exercise and exploration. I want to camp where I can get decent morning and evening light for photography, and enough open area that it feels like I’m in a prairie – not closed in by steep mountains and dense forest.

Cutleaf coneflower (Rudbeckia laciniata) with mountains in the background.

Both of us enjoy solitude (except for each other’s company), so backpacking is a good way to get away and find some peace and quiet. However, I don’t really enjoy long-distance backpacking because I’d rather spend my time wandering slowly around with a camera. The compromise we reached this year is that we’d do a short backpacking trip and find a good spot to set up a base camp, from which we could both spend our time doing what we wanted for a few days.

I spent an inordinate amount of time scouting for potential sites. I finally narrowed it down to a part of the Weminuche Wilderness in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado. It was near a couple streams where we could get drinking water, there were multiple nearby trails Kim could run/hike, and there was a large open meadow surrounded by attractive peaks. Perfect. Also, it was only about three miles from a trailhead, so it was a short, easy backpacking trip to get there.

Cutleaf coneflower
Aphids on cutleaf coneflower
Coneflower after a late evening rain

During our trip west, I suddenly realized that the drought (and lack of winter snowfall) in the mountains this year might mean the streams in our selected camping area might not be running. I sent an email to someone with a trails organization in the area, hoping against hope to get a local report. Surprisingly, I got a quick response, which provided an optimistic guess that we’d be ok, especially because of recent rains. We decided to plow ahead.

We both breathed a big sigh of relief when we reached the creek we’d planned to camp near and there was water running aross the rocks (see below). We were even happier when we found a campsite next to a couple spring-fed seems with fresh clear water coming out of them. Though we didn’t know it at the time, the campsite also featured an entertaining long-tailed weasel who showed up a couple times during our stay and ran back and forth on some downed logs.

The stream we’d planned to get drinking water from

In case you’re intereseted, we started at the Poison Park trailhead north of the Williams Creek Reservoir and hiked the Weminuche Trail to a meadow labeled “Miner Park”, where we camped near Hossick Creek.

While the campsite was really nice, the meadow I’d seen from aerial photos was beautiful in some ways but was also full of invasive plants and pretty low on native wildflowers and plant diversity There was a lot of musk thistle, Canada thistle, burdock, houndstongue, Timothy, etc. – probably as a result of some long years of overgrazing, either historically, recently, or both. Fortunately, there was still a lot of beauty to photograph and after an initial period of disappointment, I readjusted my expectations and ended up having a great couple of days. I photographed fewer plant species than I’d planned, but that pushed me to spend more time with each of them, which wasn’t a bad thing.

Musk thistles and other invasive plants in the meadow we camped in
Fleabane flowers and mountains
Fleabane up close
Aspen leaf and rain drops
Close-up of corn lily (Veratrum californicum)

I was really pleased to find a big population of northern green orchid along the little seep near our campsite. There are few of these plants at the Niobrara Valley Preserve, hanging on in the cool, damp, wooded environments along the spring-fed streams leading from the Sandhills into the Niobrara River. Stumbling across one or two is always a pleasant surprise at NVP, but there were dozens of the little gems in a small area near our camp. Awesome.

Northern green orchid (Platanthera aquilonis)
Northern green orchid
Fireweed (Chamerion angustifolium) along Hossick Creek
Fungus in the forest
Mushrooms on a rotting log
Coral slime mold (?) and lichen on a rotting log

We experienced the typical wide range of weather conditions while we camped including bright sun, thunderstorms, dark overcast skies, and starlit/moonlit nights. I worked with the light provided and happily explored the area within about a mile of our campsite. Kim went on long jaunts up and down nearby trails and also had a great time. Because she explored further, she got to see a moose that I didn’t. On her return trip down one trail, she also found bear tracks on the trail that weren’t there when she’d gone past the first time. That, along with some recent claw marks on aspens near our camp, reinforced the need for our bear-aware practices to keep us and our food safe.

On our last night at camp, the moon rose and lit up the landscape shortly after sunset, illuminating nearby mountain ridges and a thunderstorm passing to our north. I stayed up way too late photographing the scenes, walking around without the need for a flashlight (and trying not to imagine every dark shadow as a bear).

Moonlit sky with clouds and stars
Moonlight, trees, and mountains
My tent

After three nights of camping, we traveled back east a ways and stayed in a motel near one last trail we’d decided to explore. The Rosalie Trail starts at the same trailhead used by people climbing Mount Bierstadt – a popular and relatively accessible 14,000-foot peak. We arrived early in the morning to assure ourselves a parking spot at the trailhead, but didn’t follow the horde of headlamp-wearing mountaineers up the Mt. Bierstadt trail. Instead, we forked off to the west and were gratified that we’d correctly predicted we’d have the Rosalie Trail to ourselves. We hiked together for about a half mile before I started taking photos and Kim took off on her 13-mile hike/run.

Pre-sunrise light in the alpine (Mount Blue Sky Wilderness)
More pre-sunrise light
The setting moon just as the sun was rising
The Rosalie Trail at dawn
The Rosalie Trail at dawn

I wandered around the alpine within about a mile or two of the trailhead before heading back to the car mid-morning. I then drove down to the far end of the trail to pick Kim up at the end of her run. We both agreed it had been a fun week but that it was time to head home.

So we did.

Mule deer near the trail head
Least chipmunk
Alpine clover (Trifolium dasyphyllum) (I think?) and alpine meadow
Alpine meadow along the Rosalie Trail

Now we’re on the hunt for a similar experience in a different place next summer. If you happen to have suggestions, we’d be wide open to them. Again, our main criteria are: access to multiple nearby trails – ideally between 9,000 and 10,000 feet elevation and not so steep Kim can’t run at least sections of them; open areas of grasses/wildflowers and good morning/evening light for me and my photography, and access to streams or lakes for water. We enjoy being able to pack in a little ways and set up a campsite where we can have some solitude for a few days while we each pursue our favorite activies.

A Frosty Mountain Morning

Kim and I just got back from a week in the mountains of Colorado. As part of the trip, we camped several nights in the Lost Creek Wilderness. A year ago, we learned some lessons about how best to vacation together in the outdoors, and I think we applied those lessons well this year. We set up a base camp from which Kim had access to running trails and I could quickly access photographic opportunities when the light was good. It was a great week.

On the last morning of our trip, we awoke surrounded by frost. We were just under 10,000 feet in elevation, so I was surprised to see frost in July, but I also know enough about mountain weather that I probably should have been prepared for it. Regardless of my surprise, I was really happy to have the chance to photograph frosty flowers in the summer! I’d emerged from the tent in time to hike a little more than a mile to a spot I’d scouted the day before, and I arrived just as the sunlight did.

Monkshood flowers (Aconitum sp.) and cinquefoil shrubs at sunrise on a frosty morning.
Monkshood and frost
Another shot of from nearly the same spot, but without monkshood.

I spent the next couple hours scrambling around and trying to photograph the frost before it melted. Once the sun was above the distant ridge, the frost melted pretty quickly upon contact with sunlight, so I spent a lot of time following the edge of shade and sun – photographing flowers just after the sun hit them.

In my captions below, I’m guessing on identifications, so I’m staying fairly vague. Even then, I’m not guaranteeing accuracy. This is not my (geographic) area of expertise.

Shrubby cinquefoil (Potentilla fruticosa)? This was the dominant shrub in the landscape.
More of the same cinquefoil.
Swertia?
Frosty fleabane (Erigeron sp.)
More fleabane.

One of the great things about our chosen campsite and the surrounding area was that there wasn’t a lot of climbing to do when I wanted to explore and look for photo opportunities. Kim also appreciated that for her trail running. Both of us are used to the 1,800 foot elevation of east-central Nebraska. Even after several days of acclimating (not enough time), we weren’t really mountain-ready. Kim is in much better cardio shape than me, but even she wasn’t sprinting up any steep inclines.

That relative flatness meant that it didn’t take an excessive amount of time for me to fast-walk the trail to my intended destination before the sun appeared. Of course, because it was the mountains, sunrise doesn’t happen at sunrise, if you understand me. Official sunrise was at about 6am, but it took at least 30 minutes before the sun got high enough to clear the rocky ridges and trees all around me. The reason I went to this particular spot was that it was one of the first places in the valley the sun hit when it finally rose above the topography. (This is why I only visit the mountains and live in open prairie country where I can actually see the sun set and rise. Where there are actual stinking horizons.)

A different cinquefoil (Potentilla sp.)
The same cinquefoil as above – not the shrubby one.
Ice droplets and frost on a sedge leaf.

Prairie smoke is a wildflower that doesn’t show up in the prairies I frequent, so I’m always glad to visit sites where it lives. It’s one of my favorite plants to photograph, especially when the hairy seed head strands are covered with frost and dew.

Prairie smoke! (Geum triflorum)
More prairie smoke with an ice droplet in the middle.
A longhorn bee on prairie smoke, thawing out in the sun.
Droplets of melting frost on grass seed heads.
Bellflower (Campanula sp.)

As the sun rose higher and the frost started to melt and sublimate (a great term to look up if you don’t know it), fog started to rise from the ground and drift along the valley. I stood up and photographed the landscape for a while. It was nice to stretch my back a little after crouching and lying on the ground to get photos of frosty flowers.

Fog developed as the frost melted and sublimated.
More frosty fog.

By the time the fog dissipated, the sun was bright enough that photography was getting difficult, so I trekked back to camp. My feet were sodden but my spirits were high. I was ready to head back home to the prairie, but glad we’d come.