From Canyon De Chelly, we continued to Santa Fe then turned north and began zigging and zagging across the Continental Divide; ten crossings in all up through the rest of New Mexico, Colorado, and Wyoming. Sometimes when chasing fall color, you are told what surfers often hear, “You shoulda been here yesterday.” Not this time. The Cirque du Soleil of fall color was in town.
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Color was everywhere revealed in a variety of moods. Sometimes an uninterrupted brilliant yellow blanket; other times a broad slope among the conifers; occasionally a lone ribbon tracing a crease cut in a sagebrush crusted slope. So brilliant was the color, it seemed the aspen leaves were generating light, not reflecting it.
In Aspen and Vail where we visited friends, farther north over Muddy Pass, around every bend, the color left us dumbstruck. It is hard to pick just a few, but here are some images
An array of motivations converged and led to a delightful road trip. Along with Charlie Hamilton, a long time friend and a perfect road trip companion, we set out with a to-do punch list that would be strung together with whimsy. Yes, we had stops to make—visit old friends, return to stomping grounds from our misspent youth, kick tires at possible relocation communities—but each day’s itinerary was decided over morning coffee. On top of that, we would be traveling the crest of the Rockies while the aspens were in full color. Plenty of reasons to be excited.
The next morning, we descended into the canyon at the only location visitors are allowed without a Navajo guide: the White House Ruins. Not rough and tumble, the red rock there appears to have been finely smoothed and finished by a craftsman. The White House Ruins are only one set of cliff dwellings in the canyon left by the Ancient Puebloans centuries ago, but perhaps the most elegant.
I have always been fascinated by stories of the fur trappers who ventured up to where the Jefferson, Madison, and Gallatin Rivers join forces to create the Missouri River. Until the discovery of South Pass, the Missouri River was the main thoroughfare to beaver country for John Colter, Jim Bridger, Jedediah Smith, and so many other mountain men. Read about any of these men and the Wind River Mountains figure prominently in their travels. 
My friend, Dan, and I just returned from a trip to a region of the Sierra that he visits often but is new to me. A network of Forest Service roads honeycomb this area, a land dotted with granite domes that borders the southern boundary of Yosemite National Park. From the very end of Sky Ranch Road, we hiked across Chiquito Pass and descended the trail to the South Fork of the Merced River. From there, we left the trail and walked several miles down the river, then scrambled 1,300 feet back up to the road leading to the car.
As I grow in my photography, few things bring more pleasure than abstracting some slice of a setting that I might have once overlooked. I have other images of Young Lakes on this evening that I captured as the light sunk low and grew warm, but they are wider. It was hard to leave anything out. The entire scene was lovely; grand, softly lit granite peaks rose high above this carefully nestled lake. But this lone shaft of light cast across three sapling lodgepole pines caught my eye. In front, the cool gentle lake reflection. 
I have visited Yosemite National Park enough to convince myself that there are few surprises left there for me, at least when it comes to day hike destinations. Wrong…again.
Above Bennettville, the trail eases to an imperceptible ascent beside gentle stream linking a string of lakelets, all laid out in a nearly too-perfect Walt Disney landscape. The stream drifts easily past gardens of flowers until an assortment of granite boulders coax a momentary froth from the flow. At each lakelet, the water enjoys a moment of relaxation before moving on.
The wet winter of 2016-2017 was one of those that wildflower lovers long for. In California, when they come, the show is in the desert. Features on the CBS Evening News and NPR from Anza Borrego Desert State Park confirmed that the display was epic. Friends who had gone there in prior wet years returned with enthusiastic reports of jaw-dropping sights. I was not going to miss out this time.
I found an airbnb in Julian, only a one-hour drive from Borrego Springs, but as different as a landscape can be. At an elevation of 4,226 feet, Julian sits at the crest of the Cuyamaca Mountains that drain all the moisture from east bound storm clouds leaving little for Anza Borrego and the desert beyond. 
Here are a few shots from that spot. It was lovely indeed, but such a vast park beckons a visitor to quieter corners. So, I ventured out, but a park this size is a feast that can only be weakly sampled on a three-day visit. In my next few posts, I will share some images of simpler beauty away from the busy loop road. 
In my last post, I mentioned that the main key to getting a good photograph is just being out there and having your camera with you. This photo is a perfect example.