Kawuneeche Valley

Author's Comments

The west side of Rocky Mountain gets a fraction of the visitors, and the Kawuneeche is the reason I keep crossing the divide to get here. The valley is wide and soft in a way that the east side is not. The Colorado River begins as something you could step across, winding through willow and meadow grass, and the mountains hold back at a respectful distance so the light has somewhere to travel. September is when the valley earns its reputation. The aspens on the lower slopes turn in waves rather than all at once, and the willows along the river go from green to a complicated rust-orange that I have not seen anywhere else in the state. Moose move through the thickets at dawn and again at dusk, and if you drive Trail Ridge slowly with the windows down, you will eventually find one. I have spent entire mornings at a single pullout watching nothing happen and then everything happen in the last twenty minutes of usable light. Golden hour here is generous. The valley runs roughly north to south, which means the low sun rakes across the meadows from the side rather than blasting straight down them, and the willows catch light in a way that feels almost lit from within. Bring a longer lens for the moose. Bring a wider one for the river bends and the aspens above. Keep your distance. The animals are why most people come, but the valley itself is the photograph I always seem to leave with.

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