Fall in Southwest Colorado

Fall is my favorite season in Colorado and the southwest region of the state is my favorite area in Colorado. Put the two together and it’s, like, really my favorite. Or maybe my favorite-squared? Sorry, I’ll stop.

Seriously, though, southwest Colorado has everything I want for fall photography. Of course, there are the aspen trees, but also big mountains, remnants of mining, and red-colored mountains that pop against both the yellow aspens and blue skies.

There is a ton of hiking, but also enough scenic drives* that you never have to leave the road to get great views. If the weather turns, you have several small towns – Ouray, Silverton, Ridgway, and others – to retreat to for food and coffee.

This year I was in the area for maybe only 48 hours, but took as many photos as I sometimes do on trips of a week or more. I couldn’t help but share more than usual today.

*Here is a short movie clip of the drive from this trip, taken from my dashcam and lightly edited via WeVideo. I think I’ll be sticking with photography rather than videography, but it’s a fun toy on long road trips. 

Fall in Northern New Mexico

As part of the same trip where I had my good fortune with the Cumbres and Toltec Scenic Railroad, we also had good luck with the scenery and weather on most of drive. That is, if you don’t count the brief snow, rain, and too-close-for-comfort lightning strike. 

With any landscape photography, it’s helpful to keep expectations low. Weather, light, and just luck have big parts to play in any outing. I had viewed this detour as scouting for a future trip in a future year, so expectations were low for actual photographing, but it turns out they could have been sky high and I still likely would have been excited about how it all came together.

Cumbres and Toltec Railroad

How does the expression go – it’s better to be lucky than good? That sums up my chance encounter with the Cumbres and Toltec Scenic Railroad. This narrow-gauge railroad is part of the same network that also comprises the Durango and Silverton narrow-gauge railroad, the only other section still in service.

We were taking a detour on our way home from New Mexico to check out fall colors and locations for future trips when we briefly pulled over at a viewpoint and heard a train horn in the near distance. I didn’t even think the train was still running this late into the season.

I raced to grab the camera and wait, wondering if it was actually coming our way. A minute later when it appeared around the bend, I shot several photos and thought I was lucky to get even one view of it. Then, I realized how slow it was moving and that we could easily keep up with it while it headed down the valley. We turned around and stopped three more times taking photos from different viewpoints.

I’ve planned shots like these before, researching possible locations via Google Earth, looking up train schedules, and figuring out the roads on how to get there. Then I’d wait for the train that turned out to be delayed, while I stood in rain and snow, to get only one shot. But this day, we just happened to show up at the right place at the right time. I couldn’t have planned it better had I tried.

Black Hills

After Devils Tower, we continued to the South Dakota Black Hills region where we spent several days doing the tourist circuit: Badlands, Custer State Park, Mt Rushmore, Crazy Horse, and even Wall Drug. I’ll spare you photos of the latter.

Last time I shared with you the history of the Devils Tower name, I thought I’d continue that this week with background on the Black Hills name. I was actually curious as to the origin of the name and assumed it was related to the minerals in the ground (historically the region’s economy was built on extractive industries, though it has shifted to tourism – essentially the story of so many western towns). It turns out that the hills just look black from a distance, due largely to the evergreen tree cover (see the first photo). I guess the name Really Dark Green Hills didn’t flow as well.

The Lakota name, Pahá Sápa, I think is arguably the even better name, meaning “the heart of everything that is.”