The Scenics: Fringe Photography

Snowhere Trail

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

Funny things happen up on top of mountains…funny things indeed. The mere mortals who are way down below sometimes can't see what happens, but when you have a Bird's Eye view, well…that's a different story.

The other day I was up on Sandia Peak at 10,378 feet, enjoying (if one could consider being insanely cold "enjoyment". If you're familiar with me, you'll realize that I rail against the cold quite often. Yet, for some reason, I keep stepping out in it to take pictures. I guess, then, I am just passive-aggressive toward cold) the day, when, for no good reason, a cloud had the audacity to move over the peak I had happened to be looking at and admiring. After asking the cloud politely to move (it didn't) I realized that a wonderful photo was staring me in the face. Naturally, as soon as the cloud saw my camera it started drifting away, but not before I was able to capture this shot.

I was deeply intrigued by the idea of the trail that now appears to lead to nowhere…does it continue on, 'round the mountain? Does it stop? Does it lead off the edge of the world? No footprints lead down the trail to snowhere…

Dawnting Shadows

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

Dawn.

A time when the world's energy is renewed by the rising sun. A time when the cobwebs of the night are chased away into their corners and a time when the new day stretches its wings to greet the sun.

But this is, too, a time of magic. A time when the dawn's shadows still loom large and have not yet been vanquished; a time when the balance of the day has not yet been decided. For sometimes, the shadows are reluctant to give up their hold, and take extra effort to remove… It was a difficult struggle for the sun today, for it had not only the deep shadows below it to contend with but also some stray clouds above it--the battle was waged on all fronts. It wasn't but a few moments after this was taken, however, that the sun rose victorious into a clear blue sky, shining brightly upon a shadowless land.

Wolf Moon

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

'Twas a Wolf Moon out there... a time of mystery, a time of danger, a time when sensible folks stay inside, lock the doors, bar the windows, and hide in the bathtub, for the wolves be a'calling out there. Wolf Moons are nothing to fool around with, that's for sure, for many an odd thing happens upon them.

Nah. It was merely the first full moon of the year, the Wolf Moon, and I was, where else, camera in hand when the clouds parted for a moment, allowing this shot just as it was rising just to the left of the Sandia Mountains in New Mexico (left, in this case is defined as myself being in the west looking east, with the mountains to my right, which makes this moon to my left and my head hurt trying to describe it). It was in wonderful color for this particular moonrise.

Wolf Moon, 2010. What a moon. Now, if you'll excuse me, it is off to find my bathtub.

Cañada Camada

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

Hoodoos in New Mexico. Who knew? How cool.

And we find those Hoodoos in the Kasha-Katuwe Tent Rocks National Monument, located somewhere between Santa Fe and the middle of nowhere. Then again, that describes many different locations in our wonderful state, but that is just part of our charm here.

This particular shot is from the Cañada Camada Overlook, which is more or less just outside of the National Monument. Or maybe still in it. The lines are a little fuzzy out there, at best, and so it is hard to say exactly--come to think of it, the roads are a little fuzzy, too. Either way, however, the overlook gives one a great view of many of the hoodoos of Tent Rocks.

Snowbound Ranch

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

Winter.

A time of cold and a time of snow. And in this particular case, a time for a whole lot of that wonderful white powdery stuff.

This ranch is located within Valles Caldera National Preserve and from the looks of things, humans don't bother with wintertime occupation. Who can blame them really, for it would probably take somewhere just this side of forever to get through all that snow. And make no doubt about it... this is a lot of snow. Those drifts are fairly significant.

This photo was taken late in the afternoon with the dying sun, providing the long shadows. The ranch sits in the lee of a small hill, casting it in shadow (and one would presume that whomever built this placed it quite intentionally); shadows that grow even longer during the late winter afternoon. If you look close, you can see that the structure has been left to its own devices.

The Valles Caldera National Preserve is an interesting place; one, at the moment, full of snow. But that just adds to the charm and serenity that holds it in thrall until the springtime thaw.

Snowy Caldera

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

The Valles Caldera National Preserve is an incredible place. As National Lands go, this is on the newer side, and was just set aside a few years ago; it used to be the privately owned Baca Ranch, but luckily for us, it is now protected and open to the public. Nestled inside of a collapsed volcano caldera, the preserve features wide open spaces as well as stunning wooded areas. This photo is not the wooded area, however.

You can see really, really far in this photo, by the way. You might think this is "just" a snowy field. In that, you would be incorrect, I'm afraid. This particular scene measures somewhere around (as best as I can figure) two and one half miles from edge to edge. Miles. As in 13,200 feet (or just over 4,000 meters for you metric folks) from edge to edge. However, it gives you just the barest sense of the place; the grandeur, the beauty, the majesty are best experienced in person. Just be sure to breathe when you are looking at it, for it will take your breath away.

The preview sizes of this panorama just don't do it the full justice. The larger sizes work a little better and it looks completely fantastic when printed.

Fall Creek

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

In the Santa Fe National Forest a small creek, Willow Creek, meanders down from the higher ground, making its way down the mountain. It joins and flows into the Pecos River, where it continues its journey down the mountains and into Southern New Mexico so many miles away.

At this point, both the creek and the river (although "river" is certainly a stretch) are peaceful enough, with plenty of fish and wildlife taking advantage of the crystal clear, smooth flowing waters.

This shot was taken (in case it wasn't already obvious) exactly where the creek meets the river on a spectacular fall day. The golden sunlight lit the river, and it sparkled every which way as it danced over the rocks in its rush down the mountain.

What an incredible feeling to be there in the waters, feeling the warmth, hearing the rushing and just being part of a magical day.r

Mountain Wheel

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

Wagons were, and in many ways still are, the lifeblood of the Old West. They of course were on wagons, and were of course instrumental in moving people from the east into the west so it could be settled. Aside from the wheel being perhaps the greatest invention of all time, the wagon wheel was the backbone of this America, at least until the railroads came along.

But happens when a wagon wheel is no longer needed? Where does it go?

This ranch in the Jemez Mountains in New Mexico has that answer. They become, of all things, part of a fence! These wheels are no longer needed on the wagons, but they do make a wonderful fence; painted in typical southwestern colors of orange and blue, they provide the foreground for the small mountain behind them. Their days of rolling through the countryside may be done, but their days of holding up this ranch have just begun.

Copper Sunet

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

Every now and then in the desert southwest a magical sunset will happen. You'll know it when you see it, too, for it is completely unlike any other sunset. Take this sunset, for example.

One moment the sun is heading below the horizon, just as normal as you please. And the very next moment the sky itself is breathtaking. The copper and golden colors appeared in the blink of an eye; and for an all too brief moment the sky deepened and took on even more copper.

But the moment was just that: a moment. For the darkness stole the color and the sunset was just a sunset. Luckily, the moment was captured and the Copper Sunset shall live on.

Branching Sunset

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

The sun made a last gasp and without warning dove behind the distant mountain. The world wasn't quite ready to see it go, but the sun was done for the day and it was time for it to go home. The clouds were caught wholly unprepared and their myriad colors bore witness to their outrage at being left alone so quickly. For after all, the sun was not supposed to go quickly, but rather with plenty of fair warning. The clouds glowered, and vowed to stay lit all night long, if need be, until the sun came back and apologized.

The tree, however, stood fast, for it had suspect that the sun was up to something sneaky; it lost its own color very quickly, welcoming the night with an inky blackness all its own.

And before anyone else could do much of anything about it, darkness claimed them all.

Infernally Yours

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

The sun was just in a cranky mood. It had been a long day, what with the rain and all, and it had spent the entire day trying to fight through the rain clouds. Every time it thought it saw an opening, and tried to provide a bit of warmth and cheer, the rain clouds scuttled back in, thwarting every effort. In the end, it was just one of those days.At the very end of the day, though, the rain clouds decided to pack it in a bit early (their day had been a darn good one, after all, and they figured they would reward themselves just a bit), leaving the sun just the barest of all opportunities. And it took that... with a vengeance! It was really quite mad at this point and as it slipped below the horizon its full rage could be seen by all. The colors were absolutely amazing and staggering and the rain clouds quickly regretted the decision to block the sun that day.This image was taken from the top of Sandia Crest in Sandia Mountains in New Mexico. Truly, the entire sunset was beyond compare, and the reds and yellows in it were intense, to say the least. The clouds reflected the dying sun’s light in every direction and for a moment--just a brief moment--this is what it looked like. And before you knew it, the sun slipped fully below the horizon leaving all in darkness.

Red Splash

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

Fall--the very word itself evokes emotion and thoughts of color. Often, the first colors that spring to mind are the oranges and yellows of the turning leaves. For after all, that’s the color they turn, right?True enough, but not every leaf turns yellow or orange. Take the venerable maple, for example. Its leaves turn a wonderful, vivid and vibrant red and light up any forest they happen to be in. For example, this particular forest is in the heart of the Manzano Mountains, located in central New Mexico. Caught on a wonderful, crisp autumn day the leaves stand in stark contrast to the rest of the forest, and serve as a reminder that the rest of autumn is not far behind.Nature is wonderful and complex in her glory. Sure, a single, solitary leaf turning color isn’t overwhelming, but when they all turn different colors at different times the myriad of color becomes amazing and breathtaking. When you contrast the reds against the greens, add in a splash of blue, you end up with a scene not unlike this one. And in any event you end up with nature’s display at its best.This red splash is a reminder that fall is upon us.

Stream Dream

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

There exists, deep in the Jemez Mountains of New Mexico a small stream, named, oddly enough the East Fork Jemez River. “River,” in this case, is quite the misnomer, since this is really a stream with dreams of one day becoming a river... downstream this dream is much closer to being realized. But here? Not so much.The stream (ah, “river”) starts at a group of springs in the Santa Fe National Forest and meanders for just over 20 miles before joining up with the San Antonio Creek to become, finally, the Jemez River (which is much closer to a river, really). Along the way it winds through some of the most amazing scenery--from the nearly still headwaters to fast-moving waterfalls, and of course, everything in between. As expected, it is home to countless animals, and its overall habitat is beyond important.Yet, it is the small things that matter, when it comes down to it. A small bridge crosses the stream (oops, “river”) along a footpath. In the middle of the bridge is a great place for reflection... put that bridge in front of a large, imposing rock wall and suddenly the great place is the perfect place. The river flows past the wall, under the bridge, and downstream along its own dream...becoming, not so very far away, the true river it is destined to be. And perhaps that the lesson to be learned at this bridge.

Fall Foretold

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

You know it is about to happen, even without looking at the calendar. There is a certain--something--in the air that tells you; perhaps it is the quickening of days, perhaps it is that slight cooler evening, or perhaps, just perhaps, it is the unmistakable signs that nature herself provides.

For example, you might be walking in the mountains next to a clear blue stream. Rounding the bend you see it: the bright red leaves among the otherwise lush and green foliage. Surely, you are seeing things, but as you walk closer you realize it is not an illusion, for the red leaves remain red leaves, and the foretelling is unmistakable.

Fall is coming. Fall is coming. The summer will be departing, but still, one magical time of the year merely gives way to another magical time of the year, and the progression continues.

Hello, Moon

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

“Hello, Moon,” said the tree. “It’s been a while since you’ve been around.”“Hello, Tree,” said the Moon. “I’ve been a little bit busy ‘round the other side, you see. I hurried back as soon as I could, of course, and, well, here I am.” The Tree understood, for this particular cycle had been happening for as long as it could remember, and quite probably longer than that. Still, the Tree missed the Moon when it was away and the nights were a lit bit colder, and a lot more lonelier for all that. The sky was just so much more...alive...when the Moon was there.The two enjoyed the companionable silence for a little while; good friends that they were words were not always needed. The Moon continued the ascent into the sky; Tree leaned a little closer so as not to miss a word, should a word be said. It wasn’t. But neither seemed to mind. Tree continued a slight lean; not so much that passerby would remark, but enough that passerby, if they were so inclined, would notice. The evening began to pass, all to quickly. “See you again tomorrow, Moon?” Tree whispered into the night. “Of course,” came the gossamer response upon the breeze. And floating back: “Goodnight, Moon.”

Telluride Peak

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

Many places have their location defined by an iconic landmark. Telluride, Colorado, is no exception.

Telluride Peak rises to a lofty 13,478 feet above sea level--making it a very, very tall mountain indeed (although, to be fair, there happens to be 227 peaks that are higher than this one in the state of Colorado alone). Rising above the town of Telluride, it is a symbol of strength and endurance, for one doesn’t get to be that tall quickly.

However, oddly, the view of the peak itself is blocked by Ajax Peak from the town of Telluride. Instead, this “classic” view is from US 550, just outside of Ouray, peering over the Uncompahgre National Forest. This view is one of my favorites, really and it seems like I could just walk right up to the top of the mountain (in actuality, you can, and as walking to the tops of really tall mountains go, this is not a bad walk at all). Whenever I look at this, I feel a deep sense of peace and serenity, yet I also feel strength of the peak as well.

Should you happen to be passing through The Million Dollar Highway (US 550) just south of Ouray, be sure to stop and look for a moment at this Million Dollar View.

Desert Snow

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

Ah, spring in the desert. The desert begins to green up ever so nicely in the spring; lush and rich, and the travails of winter have been cast aside. The cactus begins to bloom, adding to the beauty. And the snow comes in, draping over the Four Peaks of the Superstition Mountains. Wait. What? Snow?

Yes, snow. Although it was mid April when this was taken, that didn’t matter to the cold rainy day which came around. Down low, it was just that--cold and rainy. But at the higher elevations, well, that was a different story entirely. There it was cold and snowy, and the upper reaches of the Superstitions had a wonderful blanket of snow.

As the clouds began to break up later in the day the Four Peaks were once again revealed; still wrapped in their blanket of clouds they slowly began to reemerge into the spring. Down below, the saguaros took it all in stride, reaching skyward and thankful for the brief rain; if anything the desert floor was even more lush and green than it had been earlier that morning.

Ah, spring in the desert. What a wonderful, wonderful time of magic.

Apline Quietude

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

The waves stretch to infinity and beyond in the high alpine lake--or at any rate, it certainly seems that way. The silence of the day is absolute, as well, with not a single human sound disturbing the waves as they reach for the edges of forever. Nothing save the gentle lapping of the waves upon the shore, beckoning it to follow them to everywhere, breaks the concentration of the perfect afternoon. A bird, high overhead, calls once, then falls silent, another victim of the siren call of the waves. The waves stretch ever onward and the quietude of the day continues on.

Truly, the magic of this particular lake (Lake San Cristobal near Lake City, Colorado) at this particular moment cannot be overstated. The gentle, rhythmic, waves were in no hurry to go anywhere in particular; the sun, shining so brightly and warm on this spring day, breathed hope and promise everywhere. The snow capped mountains were slowly giving up their white tops in favor of green ones, and the day... ah, the day was perfect.

The day sang out in quietness, the waves continued their march to infinity, and all was perfect.

Halycon Sandias

david@fringe.com (Fringe Photography) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 00:00:00 GMT

The lazy end of a late summer’s day: what a magnificent time. The days are growing shorter, and there is a certain crispness to the mornings that wasn’t there a short time ago. The trees themselves, while still vibrant green, are showing the early signs that there are ready to slip into the fall colors. The rainy season has long passed, and the few clouds remaining are there mostly for show, or perhaps practicing for the winter snows ahead: either way, they are in no hurry to be anywhere in particular.

The Rio Grande river flows serenely by the Sandia Mountains, just as it always does here. It, too, is in no vast hurry, instead preferring to linger on about its journey.

The sun heads down into the western horizon, and in so doing, provides rich, golden light for the end of the day. The river reflects the sky’s deep blue tones, the mountains light up in warm tones, and all watching are rewarded by the halcyon scene.

Winter will be coming soon, but that’s OK. We have today.