With exception of California, and maybe Alaska, there is no other state I have photographed so comprehensively as Colorado...west of the I-25 corridor.  That, of course means mountains, and Colorado is the heart of the Rocky Mountains.  Technically Colorado is not our most mountainous state; that distinction goes to Nevada with 50+ mountain ranges.  But Nevada has only two peaks that approach 14,000' in elevation.  Colorado is undisputed king in that category with 52-peaks better than 14,000'; no other state comes close to that mark.  Perhaps the most distinct of the "fourteeners" are the Maroon Bells in the Elk mountains near Aspen, and iconic Long's Peak near Estes Park north-west of Denver.  The latter features a tremendous shear east face known as the diamond (for its shape), a favorite draw for "real" mountaineers.  Its shear face is very much like the face of Half Dome in Yosemite National Park.  Although this peak can be seen from the east for miles I found it a real challenge to photograph well.  Because of the way it is situated I think the only time it can be effectively photographed is in the early morning.  By mid-morning its face is in shadow and bringing out detail is very difficult.  The "Bells" are stunning, three like-shaped monoliths standing side-by-side, all over 14,000', flanked by two or three other neighboring "fourteeners".  In the fall the color leading in to these behemoths create stunning compositions.

But picturesque mountain peaks are not the only element to draw the landscape photographer to Colorado.  It is a mecca for fall color, arguably the best.  I have had the privilege of photographing New England in the fall...and it is spectacular.  Nothing approaches it for variety of color.  But Colorado is special in its own right.  Vast hillsides of golden aspen light up the landscape in the fall with colors varying from pale green to dark orange as the season progresses.  Many other plants in the undergrowth provide reds.  From early September through late October nature displays a rich palette of color in Colorado that will keep your camera clicking and your imagination for interpretation in high gear.  Rivers, lakes, lingering wildflowers, and wildlife provide ample auxiliary elements to add to compositons.

There's more.  On our last visit to the state I discovered sand...Great Sand Dunes National Park in south-central Colorado nestled at the base of the Sangre de Cristo mountains where wind blown sand seems to gather forming huge dunes that far exceed the more often photographed dunes of Death Valley in size and scope.  

Colorado is also dotted with quaint mountain towns of historical importance and interest, places like Central City near Denver, Cripple Creek near Colorado Springs, Leadville, a beautiful drive from the ski mecca of Vail, Ouray, Telluride, and Silverton in the San Juan mountains of south-western Colorado.  One could spend considerable time just photographing unique 19th century architecture in these places.

One of the major surprises to me was the Black Canyon of the Gunnison river near Montrose on the western slope of the Rockies.  I visited this place kind of as an after thought after shooting thousands of fall color images.  Holy moley, what a hole in the ground!  If ever there was an iconic definition for "gorge" this place is it.  Vertical cliffs fall hundreds of feet into the narrow canyon cut by the Gunnison river.  It is so deep and narrow that sunlight can't penetrate into its interior which enhances the black coloring of the rock walls.  I visited in the fall so there was a lot of color in the vegetation near the rim that offset the black of the canyon.  While not as large or various in coloration as the Grand Canyon I thought this place a worthy rival.  Since my visit came after the tourist season I had the place nearly to myself!

Our final stop on a not too long ago roadtrip through this state was Grand Junction near the Utah border.  From that base I photographed color on the Grand Mesa, drove Jeep trails on the Uncompahgre Plateau, and photographed the canyonlands of Colorado National Monument, an area in whole worthy of several days.  The mighty Colorado river heads in the mountains of Colorado, flows through this western Colorado canyon country, south through the canyonlands of Utah, thence on through Glen and Grand Canyons, defines the border between Arizona and Nevada, continues into southern California, and finally with whatever water is left flows into Mexico and the sea.

In the canyons of western Colorado one notices a transition from the high Rocky mountains to the rugged canyonlands of southern Utah that stretch across the southern belt of that state and into southern Nevada, the Mojave desert, and the Great Basin.  Observing the geology of the landscape and following river arterials one acquires an understanding that this vast "machine" we call the Earth is intrically connected, every part of it is dependent on the other.  Rivers rise from snowbanks high in the mountains, flow downhill cutting great chasms as it goes, waters parched earth, and eventually reaches the sea where the cycle one more repeats itself.  On the way the waters are used by man to provide irrigation and life.  It behooves us, therefore, to be good stewards of our resources.  This might be taken as a trite comment by many (most?), but then we are constantly presented with evidence of our malfeasance in living in harmony with nature.  

One of the central motivations of my approach to photography is to celebrate the beauty and wonder of the natural world in which we live.  I photograph the beauty that I see; I deliberately avoid photographing the ugliness that man leaves behind wherever he goes, the trash, the cans, etc.  As I'm driving about, in my home state of California...or wherever, and stop to photograph an interesting scene, I often wander away from the road to get a better vantage point and invariably find all kinds of junk, from discarded papers, beer cans and cartons to automobile tires, obvious human impact on the landscape.  Perhaps I should photograph this stuff as an object lesson to underscore the point, but that is not what I'm about.  I want the beauty as God made it.

So, as I post this rather large portfolio of images from Colorado you're not going to see the folly of man's handiwork, your going to see the magnificence of nature's handiwork, and even some of the good that man has complemented it with.  Colorado is indeed a place full of marvelous sights and color.  I hope you enjoy these images as much as I enjoyed creating them.

Some time ago my wife, Jean, and I returned from an extended RV trip that had taken us to northern Alberta and back through the Canadian Rockies, ultimately re-entering the United States in Idaho where we spent a few days.  At that point we were very close to an area in southeastern Washington known as the Palouse.  Knowing that area to be a reknown photography destination it was a perfect time to take advantage of an opportunity.  I first visited this area as a young boy when travelling to Idaho on a fishing trip; I recall being totally unimpressed, it being nothing but miles and miles of rolling hills and wheat.  My opinion has now changed.

When one thinks of Washington he thinks of mountains, forests, and a spectacular coastline.  But eastern Washington is far different.  This is farm country indeed, fields of wheat & lentels as far as the eye can see.  Farms dot the countryside but unless you have a high vantage point you're only going to see one at a time because the landscape rises and plunges relentlessly, and country roads twist and turn until one becomes completely disoriented.  But what a venue for photography!  If you like picturesque farms, old barns in various stages of repair (or disrepair), and wide vistas this is the place.

The experience differs by season.  For instance, in the spring one will see a sea of green...young wheat.  In the fall the palette changes to gold, yellows & ochre...earth tones.  My visit was in the fall.  These rolling hills were reputedly formed by sand blowing from the southwest and indeed looking at many of my "broad vista" images I see something that resembles my images of sand dunes in Death Valley.  One has to look closely to see that those "dunes" are really "waves" of wheat.  At the time of our visit the majority of the fields had been harvested leaving behind acres of stubble crisscrossed by "trails" left by harvesters.  But the color remains with the chaff.  This is a relaxing venue in which to photograph with plenty of country roads to explore and bucolic scenery to photograph.  Take your time and explore slowly; have lunch in one of the many quiet towns that dot the Palouse.

I recently scanned through some of my images and revisited this portfolio.  I had previously edited some of these photos but my style and taste have radically changed in just a few short years.  Consequently I decided to remaster some of these images.  The portfolio Palouse is the result.

Southern Utah is one of my favorite places to photograph in the United States.  Along the southern tier of the State, known as the Escalante Staircase, lie no less than five spectacular national parks and a national monument; the western most is Zion.

I consider Zion in the same category with Yosemite, Yellowstone, and the Grand Canyon, a crown jewel in the national park system.  Within its boundaries, and those of adjacent parks, is some of the most rugged, extraordinary and varied landscape in the United States.  To properly understand the geography one must view it in the context as a part of the larger Colorado plateau that covers the entire southwestern United States including the Grand Canyon, indeed the entire Colorado River drainage system.  It is vast, largely bereft of human habitation, some of it inaccessible and unexplored.  I can think of only a handful of photographers who have photographed this region in detail. Even from a more "manageable" perspective one could isolate Zion and easily spend the better part of a lifetime photographing this one portion of the Colorado plateau.

To photograph such a place requires more than just a casual day or two visit.  My experience has been that the first visit to such a place is largely a reconnaisance, a learning experience.  Then on subsequent visits, after having sorted things out, one can systematically cover a place piece by piece.  One could concentrate on many subjects, landscape, water, plants, wildlife, differing points of view, etc.  I think I have visited Zion four times which means I'm getting a start.  To put this in perspective I have visited Yosemite on dozens of occasions (because it's closer), hiking through it on foot as well, and still have room for more inspiration; I will never exhaust the potential.  Such is my feeling about Zion.  I think I am still in the stage of looking at it from a macro point of view, e.g., trying to accomplish too much with each visit.  Perhaps I'm ready to begin "drilling down" to a micro level.  When one is at the point of approaching a subject from that point of view I think the subject matter becomes sharper, more focused, delivering a more cogent message.  Alas, there just isn't enough time to do it justice. 

Most visitors see this park on one or two occasions from the shuttle bus, or by hiking some of the easier trails.  That is a start, but there is more.  There are units off the beaten track and an incredible hike through the "narrows" of the Virgin river which only the more determined visitors attempt.  I spent several days there in 2012 concentrating on something different each day.  One day on that occasion I ventured into the narrows for an incredible experience.  A few of those images appear with this new portfolio, "The Vertical World of Zion", and inspired the portfolio title.  The title is self explanatory. 

Experiencing the Narrows requires a bit of work although there is a well worn path into the gorge...the river. Most visitors hike a mile to the mouth of the gorge then turn around.  While a gorgeous hike to that point it is just the beginning.  The real experience starts once one steps into the river.  Fifty yards into the gorge I found myself up to my chest in cold water.  Just as I thought I might be a swimmer the river "shallowed out" and became merely a wade.  There was no alternative; water often extends from wall to wall and a good portion of the time in the canyon is spent in the water.  The canyon walls become higher as one proceeds into the gorge and vertical walls on either side rise hundreds of feet above, nearly touching in places.  The sky becomes just a narrow ribbon far above the river.  One has the feeling at once of being entombed in the Earth and in the midst of a vast cathedral; a feeling of confinement...and yet it is so huge!  Human beings appear so small and insignificant compared to the vastness in which one stands.  While perhaps not a religious experience one's thoughts certainly point in that direction.  There are only two exits, 1) to continue several rugged, wet miles to the upper entrance or 2) return the way one came.  For this reason it can also be a death trap.  Canyons such as this in the southwest are prone to flash floods and it would be fatal to be caught in one in this place.  It is wise to check the weather throughout the entire region AND with the Park Service before entering the narrows.  Rain a hundred miles away could result in massive water draining through this canyon.  One must understand that while the "little" Virgin River might appear benign it is the instrument by which this massive canyon was created.  A chaos of boulders, trees, etc., testifies to the raging torrent it can be.  It cuts deeper into the Earth year after year, century after century, millennia after millennia.

On my excursion into the Narrows I met a couple who had started the previous day at the upper end of the canyon expecting to exit the lower end that same day.  They had been overcome by darkness the previous night and forced to spend a cold, wet night in the Narrows without supper or a place to shelter.  They were in no danger or difficulty...but were ready for some dry clothing and a hot meal.  Still they seemed quite upbeat about the whole experience.  They were a tough pair.  

I had opportunity to visit Zion again this past October for a couple of days.  I had to pass up the Narrows on this occasion due to limited time and hip and knee problems, but was able to concentrate on fall colors, a herd of Big Horns, and shooting "painterly" shots with Lensbaby optics along the Virgin River.  The possibilities are endless and limited only by the imagination.