Todd Caudle's Colorado

The Rain in Spain...

2011-09-21T22:32:00.004-06:00

Yesterday I headed to the Spanish Peaks Wilderness in the hope of getting some nice sunset photos of West Spanish Peak. It's a fairly simple matter when the weather cooperates — just find your way to Cordova Pass, and about 100 yards from the trailhead you're looking through the trees at the peak. I planned on making it only slightly more difficult by walking a little farther up the trail, where the trees give way to rolling meadows where I once saw a black bear amble across the trail right in front of me in broad daylight. No bear sightings on this trip, but not really much in the way of sunset light either. The photo above shows why. [click to enlarge] Rain clouds and the occasional clap of thunder kept me on my toes while I waited to see if the sun would sneak out from under the gray mass over Trinchera Peak to the west. No go. Oh well, it was a day in the mountains. And like I often say, a bad day in the mountains is better than a good day most anyplace else.

Close, But No Cigar!

2011-09-17T14:17:00.003-06:00

This morning I peeked outside before sunrise and noticed some lingering fog in the area, so I grabbed my camera gear and headed to Garden of the Gods. I almost T-boned an S.U.V. on the way there when the driver apparently was still asleep and ran a red light. But that's not the close call I'm writing about.

I got to the Mesa overlook an hour or so before sunrise and there was a perfect band of fog stretching along the Front Range between the rock formations in the Garden and Pikes Peak. If it would've stayed in that position, I would've had an epic morning of photography. But no, it didn't. A breeze from the north pushed it south of the Garden, and by the time there was enough light to shoot, only the trailing edge was still within view of any compositions that included the park. Oh well, it was still a spectacular morning. This week's massive storm event (five inches of rain in Colorado Springs in 24 hours? Wow!) left a dusting of powdered sugar on Pikes Peak's tundra, and it has so far hung on. With the first day of autumn next week, maybe the snow is here to stay til next spring. We shall see! [click photos to enlarge]

R.I.P.

2011-09-17T14:01:00.004-06:00

A week ago an experienced climber fell to his death near Pyramid Peak, on a sub-peak called Thunder Pyramid. My thoughts go out to his family and friends who are mourning the loss. (I'll refrain from naming him, since I didn't know him, and only read of the incident in the Aspen Times a few days ago.)

In our book 14,000 Feet – A Celebration of Colorado's Highest Mountains, Walt Borneman came up with the perfect title for the chapter on the Elk Mountains, of which Pyramid Peak is part – Red, Rugged & Rotten. The rock that makes up these imposing mountains – including the familiar and beautiful Maroon Bells, just across the valley from the Pyramid Peak massif – is the kind that you can pick up in your hands and twist the sedimentary layers apart. Many people have died climbing these peaks, and as last weekend's incident shows, you don't have to be an inexperienced hiker in over your head to lose your life up there.

Then again, it doesn't take a red, rugged or rotten mountain to cause the death of a climber. Even the easiest fourteeners can turn on you when the weather moves in quick and/or unexpectedly. It's often said by those who climb Colorado's mountains that it's best to turn back if things get dicey, with the sound knowledge that the summit will be there next time. Still, when you've hiked since sunrise to get to the top of a mountain so you can check it off your list (not my reason for exploring Colorado's high country!), having the summit within sight can be too tempting. But that lure can be fatal. Mother Nature couldn't care less how many peaks you've got to go on your list.

This is a photo of clouds breaking around a sub-peak of Pyramid Peak, taken Thursday afternoon as a rough-and-tumble storm system began to ease its grip on Colorado. [click to enlarge]

Payback!

2011-09-14T11:09:00.004-06:00

This summer I moved out of the tiny apartment I had lived in since my divorce and move from Pueblo to Colorado Springs, into a house that ironically was one street over and two houses down from the very first house our family lived in when we moved from suburban Chicago. It's a nice, established neighborhood. Even so, I awoke last week to the news that my truck's driver's side had been pelted with eggs the night before. It's not a reflection on the neighborhood, it can happen anywhere, especially since I typically park my truck on the street. Better my truck than my girlfriend Martina's car.

I dragged the hose to the front yard and hooked it up, and started spraying the mess off my ride. About halfway through the task I started cracking up. It suddenly dawned on me that, way back in my teen years in this very same neighborhood, I had been guilty of the same prank. My mom had befriended a woman down on her luck, and she and her son, Dieter, stayed with us briefly.

To put it mildly, Dieter was a bad influence. In the short time we hung out, we caused quite a bit of mayhem in the neighborhood. There was one of those traveling carnivals parked in the Rustic Hills Mall parking lot, and after carousing there one night, we came home and grabbed a carton of eggs, some maple syrup and various other ingredients, then proceeded to leave our mark on many parked cars nearby. We capped off our devious misdeeds by standing on the back porch and lobbing eggs at the back of the house behind ours, which we successfully blamed on my older brother, Steve, when the neighbor misjudged the time of the incident when recounting it to our mothers the next day. We couldn't have possibly done this, we posited, because we were still at the carnival at that time! But, boy-oh-boy, did we look like the bigger "men" when we graciously agreed to help the neighbor clean up the mess. In hindsight I'm pretty sure he knew we were the culprits, but at the time we thought we had pulled a fast one.

On a daylight return to the carnival the next day, Dieter hauled off and punched some kid I vaguely knew in the stomach and kept on walking. On the walk home, a car came screeching to a halt in front of us, and out popped this kid and his dad. Pops was there for vengeance, and he socked me in the stomach! He then held the much larger and slightly older Dieter's arms back and instructed his son to take revenge, which Dieter somehow managed to talk his way out of. Apparently, hanging out with such a bad seed can be hazardous to one's health! I'm just lucky Dieter's visit lasted just a few days.

Consolation Prize

2011-09-14T10:08:00.009-06:00

After my nearly fruitless 500-mile trip to Monument Valley on Sunday, I decided against hanging around for another day to try to get my Mitten shadow shot on Monday, and headed back to Colorado Sunday night for a shot at an interesting sunrise Monday morning. I pulled into the upper trailhead parking area on Lizard Head Pass a little before midnight, dropped Tears for Fears' excellent "Seeds of Love" CD in, cranked the stereo and drifted off to sleep. As usually happens, I woke up several times to enjoy different parts of the disc as it cycled through several playings, finally turning off the music at around 5am. At 5:30 my alarm jolted me awake. No biggie, I figured I could grab a nap along the road on the long drive home.

It rained steadily all night long, finally letting up sometime in that uninterrupted 30-minute window of sleep I enjoyed. As is usually the case with overnight rain, I was pretty sure I'd awake to find some fog drifting through the valleys. The problem was deciding where to go. In the San Juan Mountains around Telluride, there are lots of options. I headed down the road towards Ophir, but the fog wasn't as prominent below the San Miguel Mountains as I'd hoped. I made a spur-of-the-moment decision to head over Ophir Pass, a rocky four-wheel-drive road that drops out on Highway 550 near Silverton on the other side. As I got to the top of the pass, sunrise was at hand. As I headed over to the east side, the sun found a hole in the clouds and lit the tundra with incredibly rich tones. [photo #1 - click to enlarge] In early September the tundra up above treeline is well on its way to fall colors, and the warm light only added to the colorful palette. I also got my first glimpse of peaks around the pass, and what had been rain at lower elevations had been snow up higher — another sign of fall in the Colorado high country.

I noticed that the low clouds and fog I was after was farther down the valley towards Silverton, so I continued on. Once I got to the highway, I hung a left and headed towards Red Mountain Pass, where the clouds had taken up residence. Once on the pass I was still in the gray soup, so I took a left on the rough Black Bear Pass road, which climbs steeply from Red Mountain Pass, and was soon successfully above the clouds. The scene was even better than I'd hoped for, with Bear Mountain and Grand Turk to the south capped with fresh snow and clouds drifting in and out of valleys both near and far. [photo #2 - click to enlarge] Figuring that no one would be coming up or down the narrow road at this early hour, I parked on an uphill grade with a great view and set up my tripod. I could've shot from that spot for a long time, but thought maybe I should get up a little higher, to see what the expanded view would offer. I turned the ignition key in my truck and nothing happened. Oh crap! My mind immediately started envisioning backing down the narrow road with no power steering or power brakes. My heart raced. I turned the key several more times, and finally the engine fired, resetting my clock and spitting out my CD at the same time. Hmm, maybe I need to rethink those all-night CD rock shows I have a habit of enjoying!

With the possibility of getting stranded by a dead battery, I scrapped my plans to head home via four-wheel-drive Cinnamon Pass and Lake City to check on the status of fall colors along Highway-149 and made a commitment to stick to paved roads all the way home, making sure to leave the engine running. So much for catching a nap on the way home! But I was thankful that, after not getting the shot I had envisioned in Monument Valley the night before, I got something photographically worthwhile out of the trip.

A Long & Winding Road to Little Effect

2011-09-13T09:20:00.007-06:00

A few times a year there's an interesting shadow play that takes place in Monument Valley (that familiar place on the Utah/Arizona border where John Ford made all those great John Wayne westerns). The sun sets in such a position that it casts the shadow of one of the Mitten Buttes on the other. It's a scene I've long wanted to photograph, and happens around my birthday each year. (And again roughly six months later.) Well, I decided that the possibility of combining the Monument Valley Mitten Butte shadow with this year's perfectly timed moonrise was just too good to pass up, so I made a banzai drive down there Sunday. I totally misjudged the time it would take to get there from Colorado Springs, and even leaving at 10am, I got to Monument Valley at 6:40pm, only 20 minutes before moonrise. Phew! Close call! It was killing me going through the San Juans in southwest Colorado with clouds hanging all over the place and lots of stormy weather all around, but I was so determined to get to MV in time that even if Elvis riding a unicorn had crossed Highway 145 right in front of me, I would've kept on truckin'. Didn't really matter, since the moon was a little farther right than I had thought it would be, just left of Merrick Butte, and there were thick, lightning-spitting clouds all around that prevented the infamous shadow scene from appearing. Oh well. I tried to get some lightning shots, because it was popping off all over the place, but failed in that attempt. This is just about the only scene I came away with for my 500 miles of trouble. As always, click the image to see a larger version.

Chasin' Rainbows

2011-07-10T19:34:00.003-06:00

Over the weekend my awesome gal, Martina and I car-camped up above North Fork Reservoir in the southern Sawatch Range near Salida. As sunset approached, she and Baby the Wonder Chihuahua took a little walk up the trail to explore some old mine buildings. I joined her briefly before telling her I was heading down to nearby Billings Lake to try for some sunset reflection photos of the surrounding peaks. Looking over towards Pomeroy Peak, I noted that the late-day sun was backlighting a bright orange curtain of rain that looked like it was headed in our direction. I shouted a warning of the impending showers to Martina, and while she headed back to camp, I hoofed it down to the lake, thinking that if it was as brief a shower as I suspected, maybe I'd get a rainbow reflected in the lake.

The wind blew so hard that there was no chance of a reflection on the choppy surface of the lake, but sure enough, a rainbow appeared over the shoulder of Calico Mountain, just as sunset alpenglow light turned the already reddish peak to a brilliant, warm glow. In this case, half right was right enough.

Nature's Gift

2011-07-03T10:51:00.003-06:00

I'm currently in the midst of a photo trip over the Fourth of July holiday, and yesterday I was rewarded with what can only be described as a gift from nature. I left my truck at 11am, with the intention of climbing North Star Mountain near Breckenridge. If conditions warranted, my plan was to stay til sunset and hike out in the dark.

North Star Mountain sits at the junction of the Tenmile Range to the north and the Mosquito Range to the south. From atop the peak the view takes in close-up views of a few of Colorado's fourteeners — Quandary Peak to the north and Mounts Lincoln, Bross and Democrat to the south. Not that the fourteeners are the only attraction. The headwall to the west of Quandary is an array of craggy peaks, and after the epic snow season that just ended, the basins below North Star are still choked with snow.

Being in less than tiptop shape, I took my time getting up the peak. The weather was nothing short of perfect, with puffy white clouds drifting overhead, and nary a hint of dangerous lightning storms to prevent my plan to stay on the summit ridge all day. I stopped just a hundred feet shy of the summit, due to some dangerous-looking snow cornices between me and the final pitch, but it didn't matter. The view in every direction was astounding! With many hours to go til sunset, I bided my time taking it all in, trying to stay out of the occasional stiff wind by hiding out amongst the rocks.

Well, sometimes the best laid plans can go awry. All those docile clouds that had delighted me all day began to fizzle, and one lone, dark mass of clouds to the west began to form. It wasn't bad weather I was concerned with, as it didn't really look like the type of cloud to produce lightning. I was more concerned with the possibility of hiking all that way, staying up there all those hours, and then being shut out for sunset color. I watched this cloud build for an hour, and sure enough, when the sun dipped low to the horizon, it sank into the gray morass. So much for that!

I figured the sun might peak up underneath the clouds after sunset and give me a show, but I had had enough. I began the trek back to the truck a bit before official sunset time, figuring a little extra light might be nice. I followed a sketchy trail through the rocks down North Star's east ridge as the light faded fast.

And then I got a surprise. A fox darted across the trail in front of me. To be honest, it scared the crap out of me! It seemed habituated to humans enough that I was able to sit down, change lenses, and spend almost half an hour taking pictures of it. The lighting conditions were far from ideal, so I had to bump the ISO on my camera up fairly high to capture pictures in the low light, but after being thwarted in my sunset attempts back up the ridge, finding this willing subject at 13,000 feet after thinking my day was a bust saved the day.

Deep Blue, Too

2011-04-06T09:55:00.002-06:00

After Monday's crescent moon hunt, I decided to go out to Garden of the Gods last night for a repeat performance. This photo is one of many results. Again, no trickery to get the detail in the dark side of the moon, that's completely a product of Earthshine.

Deep Blue

2011-04-04T20:56:00.004-06:00

There was an awesome wave cloud over the Front Range this afternoon, but it never really lit up at sunset. After sunset, I was heading home from running around, and noticed the thinnest of crescent moons sandwiched between Blodgett Peak and the trailing edge of the wave cloud. By the time I got home and grabbed my camera and tripod, the cloud had advanced far enough east that including it in the image was impractical. This simplistic approach was the end result. Keep in mind that even the relatively short, 3.2-second exposure at 200mm showed movement in the moon, making the crescent about double its size. To the naked eye it was barely discernible.

[no Photoshop magic was used to enhance the incredible amount of Earthshine you see here.]

Drive-Thru for a Laugh

2011-04-04T16:06:00.007-06:00

Or should we cry?

Yesterday at the drive-thru window of my nearby Sonic:

Blonde Teen Cashier: "That's $2.34."

Me: [hand her $3.04]

BTC: [a look of horror on her face, calls one of her co-workers over, who promptly blows her off. Second co-worker does the same. They're busy. BTC fumbles for some change, and I notice at least one penny entering into the mix.]

Me: [as she hands me my change] "Is there a penny in there?"

BTC: "Yes."

Me: "You're not good at math, are you?"

BTC: "No. That's why I work at Sonic."

This morning, same drive-thru, same BTC working the window:

BTC: "Oh, it's Change Guy!" [funny, she doesn't seem happy to see me...]

Me: "Yeah, but I'll make it easier for you today." [hand her $3.06 for a $2.56 bill...]

BTC: [lays my coins on the counter, rummages through her fanny pack for her cell phone, starts punching numbers into its calculator function.

Me: [laughing hysterically on the inside]

BTC: Is this right? [hands me a nickel]

Me: "Um, no."

This afternoon, same drive-thru, same BTC working the window:

BTC: "It's Change Guy!" [even less enthusiastic about seeing me this time.]

Me: "Yeah, but I'm gonna make it really easy for you this time." [hand her a twenty for a $2.34 bill...]

BTC: [ah yes, the return of Mr. Cell Phone Calculator!] "Here's your change."

Me: "You don't mind if I count it, do you?"

BTC: "Nope!"

Me: "Good job, you got it right!"

BTC: "Here's your drinks." [drinks? hands me one drink, then begins to hand me a second one of equal size.]

Me: "You realize I only ordered one drink, right?"

BTC: "Oh, I read the ticket wrong."

How much you want to bet she's a straight-A student in school?

Awesome, Even When In Hiding

2011-04-01T23:18:00.005-06:00

Earlier this week I took advantage of low clouds over Colorado Springs and headed up Rampart Range Road for sunrise. Once I cleared the lower cloud deck, my chances of catching sunrise light on Pikes Peak were dashed by the vigorous storm clinging to the mountain's alpine environs. But you know what? Even when you can't even see the mountain, it's an awesome thing to behold. [top] Besides, when Pikes Peak is hiding, I can just train my camera on other nearby subjects, like Almagre Mountain [middle] and little details in the forest below. [bottom]

As always, click each photo to enlarge.

Frasier, Niles & Martin

2011-03-27T15:06:00.002-06:00

The Cranes! (groan...)

Did a quick overnighter to the San Luis Valley a few days ago to photograph the bi-annual migration of sandhill cranes to the Monte Vista National Wildlife Refuge. Last year was the first time for me down there, and this year there were many, many more birds. I lucked out with the timing. Didn't really come away with a deep and wide body of work from the trip, as it was sort of discombobulating with so much action happening so quickly in every direction. It didn't help matters much that I car camped nearby that night, and spent too much time listening to music and not much time sleeping. When morning arrived, I was in no mental shape to be a productive member of photographic society! Oh well, there's always next year.

[as always, click on the images for larger versions...]

Riley the Wonder Dog

2011-02-22T20:49:00.006-07:00

Someone pointed out to me recently that I mention my dog, Riley, in the subhead of this blog, but I have yet to mention him in any of my posts. That ends TODAY! Here, for your viewing pleasure, is Riley at his best, via Youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=halLJmRtbSY

Riley lives at my ex-wife's house, but we share custody in a completely amicable way. I go over to her house most every weekday to let him out while she's at work, and he occasionally spends time with me at my place, although without a yard, it makes it a little tougher. Since the above video was made, Riley has acquired a sister, so he no longer has to play tug-of-war by himself. Sindy is an absolutely perfect match for Riley in both size and temperament. They can really tear across the back yard, and then take turns wrestling each other to the ground. Good times!

Complaint Department

2011-01-05T11:48:00.014-07:00

Just received in my in-box (emphasis added):

Hello,

I ordered a 2011 Scenic UTAH Calendar by Tom Till as I do every year.

I was disappointed because over the last many years you have included October 16th as National Boss's Day. This year you did not. Why?

I think the numbering system you used this year (font) and size is not as good as last year. My question is why can't you simply include all the holidays you used from last year. [sic]

I am not disappointed in the work by Tom Till, but I am with the holiday and layout. Maybe next year your publishing company can get it right.

Just wanted you to know someone is paying attention out there and your quality control may be a little bit off.

Thank you.
(I'll show mercy and not publish her name.)

And my response:

Hi _________,

Thanks for your concern. Speaking of getting things right, our company has been publishing Tom's calendar for several years, and we have never included National Boss's Day. Just as in the calendar titles we've published for nearly 20 years, the only holidays and observances we include are either national holidays (MLK Day, Labor Day, etc.) and prominent Jewish holidays (Yom Kipper, Chanukkah, etc.). We also include historically popular holidays like Valentine's Day, Mother's Day and Father's Day. The lone exception is in our Colorado calendar titles, which include a listing for Colorado Day. We don't include Boss's Day, Secretary's Day -- er, I mean, Administrative Professionals Day -- Nurses Day, and sadly, no Take Your Dog to Work Day (FYI: June 24th). Furthermore, the grid design and font is exactly the same as it has been in every year we've published Tom's calendar. Perhaps you're paying attention to a different calendar?

Sincerely,
Todd Caudle
Complaint Department, Skyline Press

The Land Where Time Bares Its Soul

2011-01-02T18:15:00.023-07:00

NEW! Wherever you see [photo], click on the link to view a photo relevant to that part of the story! To return to the blog, just use your back button.

I just returned from a New Year's week trip to the Moab, Utah area. Such an incredible region of the country! I love my local Garden of the Gods, but this place is what Garden of the Gods wants to be when it grows up. Moab is blessed with more natural beauty than seems fair, with Arches National Park just a few miles north of town, and Canyonlands National Park, with its more than a third of a million acres of canyons, mesas, arches, improbable rock outcroppings and the convergence of the Green and Colorado rivers, not much farther away. Just in case all that's not enough, the beautiful La Sal Mountains to the east contain a ribbon of peaks that rise above 12,000 feet.

I made my first trip to Moab sometime in the late-'80s. It was Christmas Eve, I had just finished work at the Focal Point camera shop, and I had no family in the area, so obviously a road trip was in order. Oh, and did I mention that the states of Colorado and Utah were being pounded by a blizzard? What better time to hop in the ol' Chevy Chevette and drive 400 miles! After many hours of white-knuckle driving, I stopped at the first motel I could find, and awoke Christmas Day in tiny Silt, Colorado. (Perhaps the name Sludge was already spoken for?) Thankfully, the storm had moved on by morning, leaving a winter wonderland in its wake. It was still slow going, as I-70 was hard-packed with snow and ice all the way to the state line.

The highway got a little better as I moved through Utah, so I took the advice of my then-boss to take the detour at Highway-128 and follow the Colorado River down to Moab. I'm eternally grateful for his suggestion, as this is my preferred route to and from Moab to this day. It's slower going, but the scenic rewards are many times that of the more conventional highway route.

As I wound my way south, the canyons along the river were all decked out in their snowy best, and the scenery jut begged to be photographed. At one particularly scenic bend in the road I pulled my car onto the shoulder, well out of the driving path, and set up my tripod. About that time a big dually pick-up came rumbling along, and as this man with family in tow passed me, he honked the horn like I was in his way. Nearly had to change my underwear! It just wasn't very nice. And on Christmas morning? Really???

I did take a fair number of pictures, but it was so bitterly cold that I spent a large amount of time in my motel room, where I caught HBO's airing of the Steve Martin/Chevy Chase/Martin Short classic, The Three Amigos. Merry Christmas to me!

Fast-forward 20+ years. Nowadays I actually make my living as a nature photographer, so to be able to go to places like Arches and Canyonlands helps pay the rent. With my recent move back to Colorado Springs, it had been a while since I'd had the time to take a trip. The prospect of shooting during and after an impending sequel to my original snowstorm follies was too good to pass up. At least in the intervening years I figured out that you leave town before the storm hits, not at the very moment it's applying a choke hold to your state. Owning a 4WD truck instead of my little Chevette helps, too.

My first stop was Colorado National Monument near Grand Junction. I slept in the truck as the snow really started to fly, and spent much of the next morning photographing the winter weather. [photo] On my way out, the ranger said they were closing the road due to the snowy and icy conditions, so my timing was just right. I then headed south along the Unaweep-Tabeguache Scenic Byway, which winds its way through Colorado's own canyon country. Unfortunately, the snow was coming down so hard that I really couldn't see much. There were a few photo ops along the way, but fewer than I'd hoped. [photo]

I dropped into Paradox Valley, then climbed the other side and headed for the state line. By now the snow was really piling up, with easily two feet of powder flanking the road over the nameless pass that spit me out into Utah along the southern flanks of the La Sals. Once I hit the north-south Highway-191, I opted to head south 70 or 80 miles to another Utah gem called Goosenecks State Park. [photo] So named because of the way the San Juan River meanders wildly through its canyon, Goosenecks is little more than two overlooks, one a mere 1,000 feet above the river, the other called Muley Point, atop nearby Cedar Mesa, that's around 1,600 feet above the San Juan. I spent the night at the lower overlook and shot sunrise from there. I made an attempt to get to the upper vista point, but after climbing up treacherously windswept and snow-drifted switchbacks of the road to the top of the mesa, the access road to Muley Point was totally snowed in. So then it was back down the switchbacks, 500-foot drop-offs be damned! [photo]

By now I was feeling like a little civilization might be nice, so I made the long drive north to Moab and got a motel room. I didn't bother with any HBO classics this time around, but enjoyed myself enough that my intended one-night stay turned into two. Unlike my first trip, I spent very little time in my room, despite the bone-chilling temps.

There are few sights as dramatic as red rock canyon country with a fresh coat of white, and this storm really left its mark. The clouds hid the La Sals all day on New Year's Eve [photo], but the next day their crisp white ramparts pierced the cobalt sky. (Blech! Who writes this crap? Oh, wait...) It was quite a dramatic contrast. The wind must have really been howling up high, because huge plumes of snow were being torn from the summit pyramid of 12,482-foot Mount Tukuhnikivatz (an old Indian word that means Let's Totally Throw a Bunch of Random Letters Together and See If The White Man Buys It). [photo]

For my first sunrise of 2011 I headed to Canyonlands. I thought about shooting Mesa Arch first [photo from many years ago], and was heartened on my way past the trailhead that there were no cars in the parking lot of this popular destination. I headed to Green River Overlook hoping for some clouds below the rim, and barring that, I figured Mesa Arch made a good fallback position. No clouds, so I headed back to the Mesa Arch trailhead. There were now, just 15 minutes later and half an hour before sunrise, six cars in the lot. I pulled in while I considered my options. Then car seven came along. And car eight. Knowing the shooting space at the arch is pretty limited, and guessing that the fresh snow now had roughly a million foot prints in it, I decided to head to Grand View Point instead [photo][big photo], one of the most aptly named overlooks you could ever imagine. I always like transitions, be they weather, seasons or calendar, so to see the sun breach the horizon for the first time in 2011, with its new beginnings aura, was even better than the last sunset of 2010 the previous night, spent shooting near the Fiery Furnace in Arches. [photo]

Later in the day on New Year's Day I headed up the La Sal Mountain loop road, roughly a 60-mile route that follows along the flanks of the mountain range before dropping into Castle Valley's steep canyons on its way to join Highway-128. I was surprised to find the road plowed, as I'd never been able to drive very much of it in past winters. The light was flat so I didn't really have too many shooting options, but I thought I'd scope it out for future reference. [photo] Well, 18 and a half miles into it the plowing came to an abrupt end, and I wasn't about to attempt to break dozens of miles of trail through two feet of snow. I was sure wishing there had been some (any!) warning that the road wasn't passable beyond this seemingly arbitrary point. To add insult to injury, I could see down towards Castle Valley, and it looked like I was missing some low clouds and fog sweeping through the valley. Knowing it would take way too much time to make it over there by looping my way back around, I unleashed a string of F-bombs (think Hugh Grant in the opening scene of Four Weddings and a Funeral), turned the truck around and headed back towards Moab. Once down around Ken's Lake, I shot dozens of images of the sandstone ramparts preceding the La Sals, many for the purpose of merging into gigantic panoramic photos later. This took me through sunset and beyond for my first day of 2011. [photos to come]

For my last morning shoot, I figured I'd try Castle Valley in hopes of getting a repeat performance of yesterday's fog (accessed from Highway-128 this time), but was out of luck. The air was bitter cold and very clear, so I decided to head back up 128 to start the trip home. Shortly after hitting the highway, with still about half an hour to go before sunrise, the dramatic silhouette of Fisher Towers presented itself, and a very thin crescent moon was not too far away. It then became a simple task of finding that point along the highway where the two lined up. It was a serendipitous way to start my final day, to say the least. In fact, the shots of the crescent moon rising over and amongst the towers turned out to be some of my favorite images from the trip. [photo]

I did find a little bit of fog along the Colorado River as I headed northeast, and took a few shots of it along the way. Once back in Grand Junction, I found a car wash and attempted to explicate the few hundred pounds of ice that had so caked the rear wheel wells of my truck that every time I hit the slightest bump, the truck bed would slam down hard on the rear tires. There was only about an inch of clearance between the ice and the tires! After burning through every quarter I had in the truck – 26 of 'em! — and still only making minor headway, I decided the ice was evil incarnate. I'm convinced that if Hell ever does freeze over, this was gonna be the ice that did it.

Beyond the Bells, Part 2

2010-11-13T18:46:00.004-07:00

I've been so busy moving my entire life from Pueblo to Colorado Springs that I haven't had the luxury of posting much the last few weeks. Just to keep the blog warm, here's a shot at a little lake near Marble that warranted a detour on my way over towards McClure Pass a few weeks ago.
[click to enlarge]

Beyond the Bells, Part 1

2010-10-31T10:17:00.007-06:00

Remember how I said in my previous post that, despite the Maroon Bells not revealing themselves, I still found plenty to photograph? Here are a few shots from that day, taken while waiting/hoping for the Bells to emerge from the clouds. These images were made within view of the Bells, but looking in different directions. As always, click for larger version.

EDIT: Apparently I'm running up against a maximum pixel size for when you click on the image. If you want to see an even larger version than what you see when you click the photo above, click this link: http://www.toddcaudle.com/102710-quadtyche.jpg
(if it only covers the top of your monitor, click on the image to maximize it...)

First Ever Photograph of a Human Being

2010-10-29T07:40:00.003-06:00

Absolutely incredible! Too bad he (presumably) never knew of his claim to fame. Click the link to read about it: http://www.petapixel.com/2010/10/27/first-ever-photograph-of-a-human-being/

Snow Day

2010-10-28T23:50:00.008-06:00

Maroon Bells and Maroon Lake, just outside of Aspen, is the quintessential beauty spot in Colorado. It's a scene that's viewed and photographed many thousands of times over the course of a summer and fall. So many people visit the place that on summer days and fall weekends, access is limited to riding a shuttle bus up the eight or nine miles of the Maroon Lake Road. (FYI: Head up before there's anyone manning the entrance gate and you can drive your own car up, and not pay the fee.)

As far as photographic subject matter goes, it really doesn't get any better than seeing these classic peaks reflected in the lake at sunrise. It's a gross understatement to call the place iconic. And therein lies the dilemma. Maroon Bells reflected in Maroon Lake has achieved iconic status because it's been seen and photographed so many times. It's been seen and photographed so many times because it's so incredibly, classically beautiful. (Ease of access doesn't hurt, either.) As a photographer, there's very little chance of going there and coming away with anything that hasn't been seen a million times. Show up on any given weekend morning in late-September or early-October, when the aspen forests flanking the mountains are at their peak fall color, and you're likely to share the scene with more than 100 tripod-toting strangers. Chances are, if you didn't bundle up and make your way to the shoreline an hour before sunrise, you're not going to find a decent spot from which to shoot. So why bother?

And yet, I still find myself drawn to photograph this very familiar scene. Case in point — on Tuesday of this week, with a fairly substantial snow storm gripping Colorado's mountains, I drove for seven hours, capped off with a trip over a very snowy and slick McClure Pass in the dark, to spend the night at the Frontier Hotel (that would be my Nissan Frontier pick-up parked in the Maroon Lake parking lot), hoping to fulfill a decade-long dream of photographing a winter view of Maroon Bells. Though technically not winter, if I could get up there before the road closed for the season, it would save me from alternative methods of access, which would be either skiing the last several miles of the road, or renting a snowmobile at the T Lazy 7 Ranch to make the trip up to the lake. Through many phone calls to different agencies in Aspen and Pitkin County, I was able to determine that, despite a foot of snow falling on the Aspen area, the road to Maroon Lake remained open. After checking out several online webcams that showed very wintry roads in Leadville, and hearing on the radio how much of a mess I-70 was due to the weather, I decided to drive the long, more southerly route over snowy Monarch Pass, along the north rim of the deep canyons of Curecanti National Recreation Area, and then over the aforementioned McClure Pass, before dropping into Carbondale and on to Aspen. From there, I headed up the Maroon Lake road, blazing a trail through untouched powder the whole way. Once in the parking lot at the lake, I wrapped my zero-degree North Face sleeping bag around me and drifted off to sleep to the unbelievable artistry of Porcupine Tree's "Signify" blasting through my truck's speakers. I woke up a few times to see the moon and some stars, leading me to believe that maybe the storm would loosen its grip enough by morning to allow me some shots of the Bells. Unfortunately, when the light of day arrived, the mountains were completely socked in. I still found plenty to shoot, but the coveted Maroon Bells winter shot was a bust.

After a few hours of hoping for clearing clouds, hunger pangs took over, so I headed down into Aspen for breakfast. I wasn't ready to throw in the towel just yet, so I headed back up for a second chance. Ah, second chances. Not long after I got back to the lake, the clouds began to part, revealing a glorious scene of the Bells decked out in all their winter glory. I began to photograph the scene when both peaks were still barely visible through the flowing streamers of clouds, and kept shooting until the only clouds left were some tame powder puffs drifting harmlessly above the peaks. The landscape was a crisp, cool pastiche of blue and white. Despite the peaks now fully in view, clouds down valley were still producing snow. If you click the photo to see it at full size, you'll notice some white streaks in the blue sky at the top of the image. Those streaks are snowflakes caught during the exposure.

My only disappointment was in discovering the lake had already frozen over. No matter. There was still plenty to photograph without the classic Maroon Lake reflection.

Time flies...

2010-10-28T23:37:00.002-06:00

Ya know, when I started this blog, I fully intended to post to it constantly. And then life intervened. Here it is, more than two months since my last post, with the first paragraph of a review of Rush's August concert at Red Rocks sitting there in draft mode looking irrelevant, and maybe 20 or more posts having gone unwritten. Our home in Pueblo is up for sale, the wife and I are splitting up once it sells, and I've already got an apartment in Colorado Springs for my eventual move back "home." There have been many great road trips (not nearly enough, but I've been busy) worth writing about, worth sharing pictures of, but I just never got around to it. Heck, there's a course-changing election a few days from now, and I haven't taken the time to write a single word about it! Not that politics will ever play more than a fleeting role here, but still...

It's time I changed that. No promises, but I'm going to try to be more active and consistent on this blog, so you people out there on the Internets will have a reason to tune in.

Funnel Cake

2010-08-05T17:05:00.003-06:00

Last night I did a little storm chasing west of town. I got out there before sunset, but much of the storm had moved far enough east that the nearly constant lightning was concealed within the roiling clouds. It was a very dynamic system that eventually joined with a few other cells, and once it got darker, the lightning bolts were there for the prepared photographer's taking.

Then I got a little extra treat. A funnel cloud dropped out of the sky not too far from me, yet far enough away that I really didn't worry about it coming my way. Plus, the storm was still pushing away from me, so I figured even if it touched down and graduated to tornado status, it wouldn't threaten my location. It never touched down, and dissipated shortly after it formed, but not before I got one shot off. This is a 1-minute exposure, and the orange glow in the clouds is from the city lights of nearby Pueblo.

My New Logo?

2010-08-04T18:53:00.002-06:00

Last night I was up at timberline on Mount Emmons (near Crested Butte) with my friends Ed & Faith Cooley from Arkansas. We were lucky enough to witness one of the most beautiful sunsets I've seen in years. This humongous cloud towering over Emmons' northeast shoulder turned just about every color a cloud could be. It...was...AMAZING!

So I figure, since my e-friends on the Rocky Mountain Nature Photographers forum refer to me as Cloudman, due to my propensity for shooting all sorts of interesting cloud pictures, maybe I need to incorporate this one into a new logo.

Ah, maybe not. Enjoy!

Don't Try This at Home -- Or Anywhere

2010-07-26T11:49:00.005-06:00

So check this out. I was coming down from Paradise Divide near Crested Butte last week and happened on this scene. I have NO idea how this lady ended up like this (maybe Carl Edwards had gone "through" earlier), but it took two trucks and three brains to get her out. I was second on scene, but the first with a tow strap. I tried to pull her out, but there wasn't enough road width to pull her straight back and I just managed to pull the back end around more, threatening to complete the job she started, putting her over the edge. Then a guy (in the red SUV) had the idea of using his trailer hitch like a pulley to pull her straight back (think of my tow strap in the shape of an "L,", with one end hooked to my hook and me pulling straight up the road, and the strap making a 90-degree turn around his trailer ball to pull her straight back), so we tried that way, and it worked! Until my tow strap snapped. Damn! I really liked that tow strap. It didn't bust a few months ago, when my little Nissan Frontier and I pulled a gal in a full-sized Dodge Ram pick-up hauling three horses in a horse trailer partway up Monarch Pass on a sheet of ice. Apparently a Buick LeSabre was just too much to handle. Oh well.

A third guy, who had a bunch of chains in his truck (I think he was the ghost of Christmas Past) suggested we hook one chain up front and pull one way, hook the other up at the back and pull the back end around at the same time, basically yank her back onto the road. BINGO!

Workshops!

2010-07-05T22:16:00.002-06:00

For anyone interested in some field instruction, I'll be joining my buddy and photographer extraordinaire, Bret Edge, to co-lead two workshops. For the first one, we'll be shooting fall colors in the San Juan Mountains of southwestern Colorado from September 30th to October 3rd. Then, from November 4th through 7th, we'll be doing an encore workshop on Bret's home turf of Moab, Utah. Bret and I did this workshop last year, and it was GREAT fun!

You can find out about all of Bret's workshops at this link: http://www.moabphotoworkshops.com/#goto=workshop-calendar

There's even an early sign-up discount, so check it out soon!

Priceless

2010-06-26T16:54:00.004-06:00

Manfrotto CarbonOne tripod: $350
Kirk BH-3 ball head: $275
Leaving them on top of an 11,000-foot-high ridge and not realizing it til you've already made the 120-mile drive home: priceless

Photo: A view of Pikes Peak from 75 miles away, with backlit morning rain clouds [click to enlarge]. This is where I left my tripod this morning. Luckily, I know someone who works not far from here, and he sent one of his crew up to recover it. Unfortunately, I'm pretty much out of commission until I get it back. Guess I'll be returning to this spot on Monday, whether I planned to or not.

Where There's Smoke. . .

2010-06-21T17:47:00.002-06:00

I've gone out the last two evenings in an attempt to get some pics of the ever-present smoke plume from the Medano Fire at Great Sand Dunes Natl. Park, and really haven't gotten what I've wanted. What I want, I don't even know. Perhaps it's a lack of experience shooting in such conditions, which is fine by me. The fewer forest fires, the better!

Here's a post-sunset shot from last night. All that crud up there is a ribbon of smoke that stretches from the fire (out of frame to the left) out into the skies over Colorado Springs (out of frame to the right). As the crow flies, the fire is about 60 miles away. The smell of burning forest has permeated the air around Pueblo for the last three or four days, and the smoke plume has created an ethereal, copper glow as the sun struggles to shine through the haze.

Anybody know any good rain dances?

Pawnee Sunrise

2010-06-17T21:05:00.005-06:00

Last night the great Walt Borneman and I did a slide presentation at the REI flagship store in Denver. Afterwards I decided to feed my wanderlust beast and drove up to Pawnee National Grasslands in northeastern Colorado. I pulled into the Pawnee Buttes overlook about 11:30, tired as all getout, slipped some Steve Vai tunes into the CD player, cranked it to ear-splitting level and drifted off to sleep.

When I woke up at 4:15, it was so windy I doubted the wisdom of hiking out towards the buttes for sunrise photos. My nephew (and budding photographer) Charley was going to drive out to meet me, but I sent him a text message that read simply, "Don't bother. WINDY!!!," and went back to sleep. Half an hour later I awoke again, and there was the kid parked right next to me. Sometimes technology moves slowly. Or not at all.

A short time later, as we stood outside our vehicles contemplating our immediate future, I looked down to behold the wonder of my completely flat front tire. Aw geez, what a way to start a morning! The sun was still maybe 15 minutes from cresting the horizon, so, with Charley's help, I got to the task of changing the tire. I didn't really think I'd be pulling out the camera anyway (windy, hazy and cloudless is no way to go through life, son...), so I thought I'd get the grunt work out of the way.

Wouldn't you know it, when the sun did come up, the haze made its disc a very appealing subject when combined with the silhouettes of the buttes. Charley started to shoot, while I stood there watching the show. By the time I got a clue and thought maybe I'd like some pictures of this, the sun had risen high enough above the crud near the horizon that it was now a harsh, not-easily-photographed fireball. I took a few shots regardless (including some with the sun out-of-frame – click to enlarge), and made note for future reference that right around the summer solstice it's completely feasible to photograph the sun rising right between the two Pawnee Buttes. I had mapped out a scenario weeks ago to catch the moon rising between the buttes next December, around the winter solstice, but it might be nice to have both photos in my repertoire, provided the desolate roads leading out there aren't snowed in for my December moonrise plans.

Dynamism

2010-06-13T23:15:00.004-06:00

Is that really a word? Ah, who cares! I spent yesterday afternoon and evening up on Cottonwood Pass, one of my very favorite places in Colorado. Knowing the storm moving through would provide interesting weather, I just had to pick somewhere that I thought I could get high enough to look straight into it, rather than being overcome by it. At over 12,000 feet, Cottonwood Pass was just the right place. The clouds never relented right on the pass, but just over on the west side, the mountains created a buffer zone of sorts, where the clouds could race up the mountainsides east of me and leapfrog over, giving me a more calm, clearer base of operations. I had 30 minutes of the conditions you see in this picture [click to enlarge], then the clouds moved in and obscured everything. An hour or so later I got another 15 minute window of opportunity, and then the clouds came back, killing any chance of sunset light. Oh well.

Felt great to be up high again.

Keeping Abreast of What I'm Missing

2010-06-09T22:43:00.012-06:00

Last night Mr. TV Weatherman mentioned that there would likely be fog and low clouds in the morning. That's a forecast that always makes my creative side stand at attention, because living along Colorado's Front Range makes it relatively easy to get above a low cloud deck and experience the sight of mountains rising through the clouds and into a clear, blue sky. It's one of my favorite types of conditions to shoot in, no doubt about it.

I didn't make any grand plans to get up early, but I figured if I woke up early enough on my own, I'd take a peek out the window and see if there was anything worth getting up for. That time arrived about 2:15am, way too early to even consider going anywhere. Another 90 minutes of sleep, I told myself, and if I wake up, I'll check things out.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz....................................

3:45 snuck past quietly while I was out cold, so when I did wake up around 5:15, it was too late to get anywhere. This would be one sunrise I'd have to enjoy from the comfort of my bed. Wouldn't be the first, and it sure won't be the last.

I grabbed my laptop and swung open the lid, and once it sprang to life, I navigated through a bunch of online Web cams that are on my normal vicarious itinerary. First stop, Garden of the Gods. Cloudy, dreary, and somebody stole Pikes Peak! Either that, or it was hidden behind all those gray, depressing clouds.

Next stop, Pikes Peak's summit cams. Just as I suspected—thin, wispy clouds and blue sky above, duck soup below. Oh, what I would've given to have gotten my butt out of bed and up onto Rampart Range for this! Since it was obviously too late to do anything about it, I sat in bed hitting the "refresh" button on my browser until I caught a glimpse of the sun cresting the eastern horizon.

A few more minutes making the rounds of my favorite Web cams, and it was back to Dreamland. Better luck next time.

[as always, click on the small images to see the big versions.]

Jazzberry Jam™

2010-06-03T22:15:00.013-06:00

Yesterday I was listening to a band called Niacin while I toiled away on the computer (yeah, riiiiight). The band's main claim to fame is bassist extraordinaire Billy Sheehan, whose most notable stints have been with ex-Van Halen loud mouth David Lee Roth and bluesy rockers Mr. Big. He's also toured with heavyweight guitar players like Steve Vai—one concert at which I (and others) strummed my (their) fingers over his bass strings when he held the instrument face out over the pressing crowd. He's a true original in the way he flies up and down the fret board and across the strings, laying down much more than low-end hooks. He's more like an exceptional lead guitarist who happens to play bass.

Sheehan has the biggest name in Niacin, but it's a wholly democratic trio—jazz drummer Dennis Chambers, and John Novello on, of all things, the Hammond B3 organ, complete the line-up. (vitamin B3, a.k.a. niacin, get it?) It's really a spectacular conglomeration of instrumental genius.

While I listened to Niacin's Deep album, I was poking around the iTunes store, looking for what else the band has to offer. I also checked out the choices in the "customers who bought this also bought..." section, and came across another heady act called Ohm:. The band is similarly fronted by a relatively better known member—in this case, one-time Megadeth guitar slinger Chris Poland—joined by some really talented compatriots.

One thing led to another, and I downloaded a couple of Ohm:'s albums. While doing so, I noticed a common thread that ran through so many instrumental bands, and a trend that I've long noticed with bands of an instrumental nature—they clearly have fun coming up with kooky names for their songs. Case in point: the first track of one Ohm: album, "Peanut Buddha."

And why not? We're not talking "Yesterday" or, ahem, "We Will Rock You." These are lyric-less gems that, for all I know, might've sprung up after the name was floated.

Musicians have been doing this sort of thing forever, I suppose. I became aware of the practice in the '70s, during my formative explorations into more diverse, fusion-oriented music. Before Irish guitarist Gary Moore became famous for more common guitar-bass-drums-vocals albums, his 1979 Back on the Streets album contained such fiery instrumentals as "What Would You Rather Bee or a Wasp" and "Flight of the Snow Moose." Similarly, instrumental guitar giants like Joe Satriani and Steve Vai have enlightened our senses with "Mystical Potato Head Groove Thing" and "Bad Horsie," respectively. Steve Stevens gets into the act on his amazing Memory Crash CD with "Small Arms Fire" and "Cherry Vanilla." Without even hearing the song, can anyone imagine a song called "Small Arms Fire" by a guitarist of Stevens' caliber isn't an absolute rat-a-tat-tat barn-burner? I think not.

Perhaps the most prolific practitioners of the art of whacked out song names are jazz fusion bands. I offer drummer Dave Weckl's "Swamp Thing" and "Group Therapy," Vital Information's "Fit to be Tied" and "Looks Good, Feels Bad," Tribal Tech's "Elvis at the Hop," "Uh. . .Yeah OK," and "Astro Chimp," and even über-group The (Dixie) Dregs' "I'm Freaking Out," "Pompous Circumstances," "Sleeveless in Seattle" and "Bloodsucking Leeches" as prime examples of the genre. Heck, even some of my friends add their mark! My good buddy Roby Deaton paints a picture with "Summer Meadow" and "Starry Night" without having to play a note—although, I must say, his music completes the task beautifully. Another buddy, guitarist Stan Rose, didn't just use song titles to display his knack for skewed names. His musical project is called Alien Guitar Abduction. How cool is that?!

Lest I forget, keyboardist Jordan Rudess, perhaps the most amazing keyboard wizard since Keith Emerson, and a member of prog rock kings Dream Theater for the last several years, serves up a healthy selection of his own. "Dreaming in Titanium," "Bar Hopping with Mr. Picky" and "Screaming Head" join the list with creative aplomb.

What of Niacin, the reason this post sprung up in the first place? Try this: "Panic Button"; "Magnetic Mood"; "Klunkified"; "Swing Swang Swung." Yeah, I'd say they belong on this list.

As I alluded to earlier in this post, I can really see an artist having a quirky name pop into his head, attaching a first-impressions type of groove to it, and voilà!, a song is born!

It would be great fun coming up with this stuff. Sort of like coming up with interesting and descriptive names for Crayola crayons. I mean, who needs off-yellow when you can have macaroni and cheese? What's more fun, dark gray or Outer Space? Forget reddish-brown, give me Fuzzy Wuzzy! Jazzberry Jam, anyone?

Whacky song names, funny crayon colors. . . it's almost as much fun as naming blog posts!

I Love People With a Sense of Humor

2010-06-01T19:18:00.003-06:00

I just spotted this in the parking lot of a restaurant here in Pueblo tonight. Not sure I can add anything to this, so I'll just let the picture do the talking.

My New Best Friend

2010-06-01T11:14:00.006-06:00

Ever since I became serious about landscape photography, moon cycles have been an important part of my inspiration. Including a rising or setting full moon, or the thinnest wisp of a crescent moon, can add that little extra something to an image.

At first, I'd just note when the full moon was each month on whatever calendar happened to be hanging on the wall (before I was publishing my own, of course!), and figured I could shoot it rising a day or two before that date, or setting a day or two after. When timing became more critical, I started using the NOAA Web site to calculate rise/set times, moon phases and even positions. That worked well for years, even if it was a bit unwieldy.

All that recently went out the window, thanks to another photographer, and a real man of genius ("Here's to you, Mr. I'm-Gonna-Develop-a-Program-that-can-Make-Any-Idiot-Photographer-Look-Like-a-Pro!"), named Stephen Trainor. Stephen put together a computer program called The Photographer's Ephemeris that combines a calendar with mapping software. With TPE, I can pick any vantage point in the world, and it will draw one line each for sunrise/sunset and moonrise/moonset for any given day, past, present or future, along with an almanac detailing times and the point on the compass where these events occur. Wow! If a few local weathermen are my secret weapons, TPE is my new best friend.

The attached photo (click to enlarge) is an example of a nearly perfect program operated by a less-than-perfect photographer. In my very first post I included a photo of the moon setting directly behind Pikes Peak. That was a TPE success story. This photo, taken the day before, is what happens when I have a crazy notion that a difference of only 15 minutes between sunrise and moonset will still allow me to catch the moon setting behind a 14,110-foot-tall mountain. Um, no. On this day the moon set behind Pikes Peak before the sun came up, so I had to race to a spot where I could see to a lower, more distant horizon to see the moon dip below Earth. Some clouds blocked the sun's rays as it came up, but just at the right moment it peeked through enough to paint these lovely ponderosa pines with subtle alpenglow light. It was the following day that I returned to catch moonset behind Pikes Peak.

I have lots of cool things planned for TPE. Check back from time to time to see how successful I am at realizing them. And if you're curious about TPE, whether or not you're a photographer, look it up on Google. Due to some lapse in judgment, Stephen offers the program for free for your desktop, although you should leave him a tip via his donation link. He also has a version for the iPhone or iPod Touch for a very reasonable price at the iTunes store. Could an iPad version be far behind?

Natural Arch vs. Gravity (Gravity Wins)

2010-05-30T22:09:00.007-06:00

I love natural arches. Whether they're residents of Arches National Park in Utah or right here in Colorado's Western Slope canyon country, they're just plain fascinating. Yet, despite the incredible length of time it took wind, rain and ice to carve out these natural frames from the landscape, those same forces will eventually weaken these structures and send them tumbling down. Landscape Arch in Arches National Park, the world's longest span, has been in danger of collapsing for the last few years, so the National Park Service has cordoned it off at what is perceived to be a safe distance.

Unfortunately, an arch in Nevada's Valley of Fire State Park collapsed recently, as this story in the L.A. Times details: LINK

It's a bummer, but these things happen. According to the story, it appears natural forces led to its collapse, and not some "hey, watch this!" moron climbing on it.

Addendum: The accompanying photo (click to enlarge) is of Mesa Arch in Canyonlands National Park, Utah. I showed up at the trailhead for the short hike after an overnight snowstorm, and was disappointed to see one other car in the parking lot. I didn't mind the prospect of sharing the morning with another photographer, but I was worried that the fresh snow would show footprints of some careless wanderer. I didn't want footprints in my photos! Lit by my headlamp, I followed the footprints all the way to the arch, and was pleasantly surprised that they continued right past it. Phew! That was a close one! Mesa Arch barely juts out from the canyon wall from which it was carved, and my guess is the person never even knew they passed it. I never saw another soul that morning, and the barely discernible critter prints below the arch didn't bother me at all.

Steve Perry's Legacy Is Safe

2010-05-30T08:09:00.006-06:00

Last night I watched the debut airing of Journey's Manila concert on Palladia. I can confidently say that former lead singer Steve Perry's legacy is safe.

As the story goes, guitarist Neal Schon caught a Youtube video of Filipino singer Arnel Pineda belting out Journey tunes. Schon was impressed enough with Pineda's representation of Perry's voice to offer him the job of lead singer for the legendary band. Good for Pineda, not so good for longtime Journey fans.

Pineda sounds like little more than a cheap Steve Perry knock-off, to the point where I wondered if he had a "Made in the Phlippines" label affixed to his backside. Missing was Perry's more nuanced, emotive voice. Granted, it's no small task to replace someone like Perry, whose voice guided the band's zillions-selling, multi-multi-platinum success for two decades. And I recognize the need for the remaining members of Journey to find someone similar enough to Perry's singing style that touring on the weight of the band's legacy is even possible. But I was disappointed with the one-note mimicry of Pineda.

What's most strange is that Journey's current line-up has a ready replacement for Perry in the most unlikely place—he's sitting behind that massive drum kit. Deen Castronovo, who joins legendary stickmen Aynsley Dunbar (1974-1978) and Steve Smith ('78-'85, '95-'98) as the only drummers of consequence in Journey's history, sang lead on several songs during the program, and I was taken aback by how similar he sounds to Perry. He successfully delivered the throaty quality of Perry's voice on "Still They Ride" and other weighty classics, and did it while confidently hammering out solid beats. Castronovo, a big, burly man with arms the size of small tree trunks, was the last person I expected to hear such sweet harmonies from. It was a very pleasant surprise.

Zebra Snow

2010-05-29T22:28:00.002-06:00

There's a lot about this past winter and our current spring that reminds me of Colorado back in the '70s. For instance, the wind. The freakin' wind. Enough already! While it's a major annoyance down here in civilization, check out what it's doing in the mountains. Dust from the southwest deserts has decided to vacation in Colorado's high country, and the result is, well, fugly! I certainly don't expect what remains of the snowpack in May to look clean and pure as the wind-driven...well, you know. But all this red dirt is just weird! It must certainly be speeding up the snowmelt, which doesn't seem like it would be a good thing.

I guess by July it'll be history and the wildflowers will take over, but until then, this is what we've got.

The War on Photographers

2010-05-29T22:20:00.003-06:00

Speaking of shooting pictures of Pikes Peak this morning, I came across something very disturbing. Apparently, unbeknownst to me prior to seeing the sign in this photo (click to enlarge), I was breaking some kind of law while taking pictures up on Rampart Range Road. This is unacceptable! What ever happened to freedom of expression? Am I going to have to be on the lookout for Johnny Law when I'm out shooting? This is the U.S. of A., for cryin' out loud! I think I'll start a petition.

Welcome!

2010-05-29T21:07:00.004-06:00

Starting a blog is something I've been toying with for many months. There are so many times that I've been tooling down the road with a million voices -- er, I mean, thoughts, THOUGHTS -- in my head, thinking to myself, "I should start a blog!" I actually tried to name my blog the ISHOULDSTARTABLOG blog, but somebody beat me to it. Sooo, since much of what I do revolves around my love for, and exploration of, Colorado, I settled on the oh-so-obvious "Todd Caudle's Colorado." I know, deep.

Since this is, at its heart, a photo blog, why don't we kick things off with a photo! Accompanying this post is a photo I took just after sunrise this morning. Look closely and you'll see the Summit House and the massive viewing platform on the summit of Pikes Peak, highlighted by the setting moon. (click on image for larger version)

And away we go!