Spectacularity

21 10 2026

In yesterday’s post, I promised for today’s post pix of a fairly stunning storm system that blew up over Disappointment Valley in the mid-or-so afternoon through sunset. This will be a photo-heavy (heavy on the heavy) post. The pix also are all from my phone. The immense scale simply wasn’t possible to capture with my long lens and narrow range of view. A few times, I wished I’d gone to the effort of getting my camera out of my backpack … but most of the time, I was too afraid to miss one second of what was happening, and, again, the sheer width of scale of the storm’s coverage across the horizon(s) was just too, well, wide.

I hate to be one of those telling you to “read through till the end” for the best part, but … well, let me know whether the final pix, of sunset light in the EAST, were worth waiting for.

Onward!

As wide a field of view as my phone can capture, it took four images, stitched into a panorama, to produce this image, looking from southeast at right to north-northeast at left. So if possible, imagine the scene not as a flat, two-dimensional view but as a curved (?) view. The storm definitely was coming from the southeast and moving north (left) … and around/beyond the basin, across the north, to the west? I sat for a long time at the main/original catchment watching it and taking pix as the sky evolved – in sunshine the entire time.

This was the first pic I actually took. There’s a pretty obvious downpour straight ahead, which is basically east-northeastish. It was not raining over Spring Creek Basin at this point, but the clouds were definitely shading the far, whole eastern horizon. Thunder was rumbling now and then, but I never saw lightning. The vast majority of the basin was under sunlight. There ARE mustangs way, way out, at the leftish side of the image.

A little more detail of the rain running across the landscape from near/over (?) Benchmark Lookout (at the leftish side of the dark hump of “hill” at far right) across upper Disappointment Valley and beyond Temple Butte (the edge of the promontory is just spotlit by a bit of sunlight).

And swinging a bit more to look east.

Meanwhile, a lighter rain system was moving north to the northWEST. You might be able to make out Utah’s La Sal Mountains through the curtain of rain (way) beyond Spring Creek canyon.

This is roughly what that looked like on the radar (a little delayed, I think). The blue dot was me, in the middle, in the sunshine. 🙂

There are the mountains; see ’em? I think the rain was moving across lower Disappointment Valley and maybe/probably not quite as far west as Utah. I’ve been in the same place taking all these pix (I sat there for quite a long time): at the road by the fenced-enclosed aprons that catch rain (and snow in the winter) and direct that water down to the 12,000-gallon green steel tank … and from there to the main water trough you can see downhill and to the right of the tank. (The farther, smaller, black trough is wired off because it’s a lot smaller, and darker, and the horses don’t prefer it. The big trough is the main trough. You can’t quite tell from this distance, but it has a triangular metal cover over it that enables the horses to get to the water and also helps prevent evaporation (or better than it would be if uncovered).)

And looking southeastish again. Apologies (not really) for the redundant pix … but this is one of my favorite views in the whole, great, wide and wild world … especially when it includes rain!

See how DARK it got to the northeast? Again, that’s beyond Spring Creek Basin – at least at this point (spoiler alert). But see that lit “column” of rain? Wild? I spent a lot of time and phone space taking pix of that cool thing as it moved with the storm system across the northern horizon toward the west (and I was in sunshine all the while).

Checking the progress of the rain to the east-southeast again. At this point, I think it was getting closer to Temple Butte – the rain, not just the shade of the rain clouds.

Another look up to the northeastish at that remarkable flame of spotlit rain. Notice, too, that we’re starting to get a great shadow of clouds over a great portion of the basin now. (I promise there were mustangs out there; I was watching about five bands way, way out while I watched the spectacular sky-show.)

I mean …

… it was …

… just soooooo …

… COOL!

Checking northwest again, over the canyon. That’s the north side at right, and you can just see part of the south side at far left. It’s not that wide; it curves a lot.

Ah! Rain has made it far enough west to cover Temple Butte (the promontory), at least, and maybe reaching McKenna Peak (the pyramid) and the eastern part of Spring Creek Basin. But note how sunny it still is.

Another very wide-angle view (just one frame). At farthest right, definitely getting rained on now: Temple Butte and McKenna Peak. At left, the remnants of that crazy … I don’t even know what to call that?! Looking like someone was shining a gigantic spotlight from the ground to the heavens. And still, I’m sitting in the sunshine.

At that point, I decided to head out. I wasn’t sure about crossing the V-arroyo (it gets pretty pillowy-muddy in heavy rain and is difficult to impossible to cross in that state), and most of the horses were well north of that point – and that’s before you even get to the first Spring Creek crossing. While thunder had been rumbling like a slightly disgruntled giant, I hadn’t seen any lightning, but in the wide open, I have a healthy respect for it (and a recent encounter of a near-simultaneous lightning-strike-thunder-CRACK is pretty close to front of mind lately).

Now I’m at Chrome’s Point in the far western part of Spring Creek Basin, and rain definitely is falling within the basin’s boundaries to the east. If you zoom in on Temple Butte and McKenna Peak, below the left base of McKenna in the golden-landscape area, you’ll see the fenced-in water-catchment aprons (looks a bit like a tennis court). On the road, just left of the far side of the fence corner is where I sat to take all the photos above this one.

And from Chrome’s Point looking northish (leftish is almost directly northish). Can you tell that the storm was moving across our north to the west (left)? I know that if you’re not familiar with the area, it’s hard!

So I left the basin thinking “what a great show put on by Mother Nature!” And also that at least the eastern-northeastern part of the basin looked to be getting some of the good wet stuff (which was not in the forecast, by the way). …

Yowza! That’s RAIN. Over SPRING CREEK BASIN! This is looking east while heading south on Disappointment Road, well west of the basin. …

Wait. What is that … ?

What that, you ask? THAT that!

It’s a DUST DEVIL. … With pouring rain in the background! Just like the weird rain column seen earlier from inside Spring Creek Basin, this dust devil was illuminated by the sunlight hitting that part of Disappointment Valley west of Spring Creek Basin (the ridge topped by rimrock at far right is part of the basin’s western boundary). See the far-far ridgeline curtained by rain? That’s the very same northeastern ridge that meets the sky in the previous pix taken within Spring Creek Basin.

I was so wowed that I was standing in the middle of the road holding my phone up and out in the classic pose as a truck was approaching. Fortunately, it was someone who knows me and knows my photo-centricity, and he kindly did not run me over. 🙂

Kinda great for zilch on the rain front in the forecast, eh? 🙂 And I will tell you that the ground was still satisfyingly damp out in the basin last night (as you read this), and now we have another day or three or five (who really knows?!) of rain chances in the forecast.

See the rainbow prism? That’s directly over Filly Peak in Spring Creek Basin.

Did I mention there’s snow again on the mountains on our northwestern horizon (Utah’s La Sals)? As a point of interest, Mount Peale is the highest peak in the range at “12,721 to 12,726 feet.” Moab is on the other side.

There was just about every bit of light imaginable during the time I watched the storm pass: glorious sunlight to dappled light to ominous rain-darkness. Something else interesting? I never got so much as sprinkled on, no matter where I was.

Oh yeah, and the light that produced multi-colored rainbow prisms (can you call it a rainbow if it doesn’t form a bow?). I think there were at least five, maybe six of these prisms. None formed a complete rainbow (if you can believe it), and none of them lasted very long … except this next one:

See the rainbow forming at upper left? (And check out that spotlight at farthest right!) Unfortunately, the prism was faint while the spotlight was on Buck Knob and its vibrant redrock layers, but, um, WOW.

It’s getting a little more visible …

The. Light. Was. Phenomenal.

The cottonwoods along the bottom of this pic line Disappointment Creek. Spring Creek is farther north, running out of Spring Creek Basin, which is to the right/east. They both run westish; Spring Creek runs into Disappointment Creek, and, eventually, FARTHER west, Disappointment Creek carries all its salt and sediment into the Dolores River. This view is looking purty near north. The shorter, yellow-y-er (that’s a word, creatively speaking) vegetation is willow and maybe some rabbitbrush/chamisa, too. The cottonwoods at this elevation are just starting to go gold.

Do you start to see why there are so many pix in this post?! The light KEPT CHANGING. What the heck are those beams right of center?! I never did figure it out.

Wide-wide view for perspective. The road runs straight east here.

And on I went up-valley (to the southeast). I mean, who knew what else Mother Nature had in store?

Disappointment Creek. Picture NO water here, and that’s what it usually looks like. This was when I first realized how heavy the rain must have been that I’d seen earlier … remember the very first pix at the top of this post? Spring Creek Basin is across the road (that I’m on) to the left.

It’s really hard to understand how this is such an astounding view if you don’t know what it usually looks like, but for one thing, there are usually giant rocks visible in the creek bed there.

This is Black Snag Road; Disappointment Road is about 100 yards behind me. … Actually, this is Disappointment Creek – err, river – making fun of the idea of there being a road under that rollin’ water (let alone a culvert … ha ha ha!?). This is where I wish I was adept at video and/or even knowing how to insert it. Because the sheer volume of NOISE (let alone water) was INCREDIBLE. Larry W. is the Dolores County road guy for this part of Disappointment Road; I couldn’t help but think of him while I watched this; it will fall to him to fix this … eventually.

That pile of dark dirt is sort of the edge of … well … where the water shouldn’t have gone around?! Seriously, do not mess with Mother Nature. She makes her own paths.

I’m not entirely sure where those rocks would have come from. I hadn’t been down to look at the crossing for quite a while until this moment, but the road is sort of … there.

It was hard to take a still pic that conveyed the noise and just sheer quantity of water rolling through the *ahem* creek bed. You see the rocks … and up to the right is a WAVE of mud-water. I think the culvert is sort of in that area? And/or rocks meant to stabilize it and the edge of the road.

Disappointment River. 🙂 Seriously.

Meanwhile, this was happening behind me (as I looked at the river, err, creek crossing); looking in this direction, the creek is behind me. Disappointment Road runs across the base of the pic; down-valley (northwestish) is left, and up-valley (southeastish) is right. The fence along the road – the boundary of Spring Creek Basin – is visible at left and right. The foreground is part of Spring Creek Basin Herd Management Area, but Temple Butte – lit up at right – is outside the basin, as is McKenna Peak, the tip and eroded slopes of which are visible at left.

Nope, it was not over!

Disappointment Creek flowing downstream from just upstream of the Black Snag Road crossing.

It was *this* close to sunset. 🙂

Mother Nature wasn’t close to done for the day.

I mean … can you die of absolute, heart-bursting joy at the gorgeousity of the world?! Hopefully not; too much yet to see. I hope you’ve stuck with me. … Really, it gets BETTER.

Are you sitting down? You might want to sit down.

As I went back down-valley, THAT was happening behind me. Ahead of me (behind me as I take these pix), to the west, the clouds were nearly gone, the sky nearly clear again. The color was all back to the east. (Note: These horses are not in Spring Creek Basin. I’ve never crossed over here, but this sunset was too amazing not to share, and this is where I was when I saw it.)

My jaw might have been on the ground. I hope you find these colors and cloud shapes impressive. … The pix don’t really do it justice; it was one of the top most spectacular sunsets I’ve seen in my life.

I might finally have run out of words.

Was it worth it? 🙂

WHAT. A. DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Mama Nature, I never cease to be amazed. Keep on rockin’, Lady.

Thanks for coming along. 🙂





A lotta little all – or awe

16 04 2026

Tuesday was a wild and crazy day … and that was just the weather. It was ultimately a successful day, though at least one part left me shaking my head at, well, how life unfolds. And it was a reminder that sometimes the smallest things, and the simplest things, are the most enjoyable of all.

From yesterday’s post, are you wondering what graupel looks like? (Thanks, Valerie, for your comment that led to this post!)

What? I hear you asking. That looks like snow or rain, you’re saying (zoom in to see the streaks). Look on the ground in the lower right corner. I was backed in under a (dead) tree to sit out one wave of it (it wasn’t very hard, and it didn’t last long) at that little side “road” to Disappointment Road, which is across the whole pic. See the little white “balls”?

AI says this: “Graupel, or soft hail, forms when supercooled water droplets freeze onto falling snowflakes, creating soft, small white pellets (2-5 mm) that resemble Dippin’ Dots or Styrofoam. These fragile, slushy particles are often called snow pellets and, unlike hard hail, crumble easily. They occur during wintry mix scenarios, causing sudden, slick conditions, and are identified in aviation reports as ‘GS’.”

I liked this part: Types of Graupel
While commonly called graupel, it is sometimes referred to as: 

Matsaaruti: A term used in the Nunavik region of Canada to describe wet, soft snow pellets.

Snow Pellets

Soft Hail

Hominy Snow

I encourage you to Google “graupel” because there’s a lot more. Or check this NOAA description of hail types.

Another pic from the same location as the first pic, looking pretty much straight north at what I call west-of-favorite hill (because it’s, you know, west of what I call favorite hill, which I so-named because once upon a very long time ago, “the pintos” really favored that hill and could very often be found atop it).

Also from the same spot, looking eastish again as the graupel wave recedes, driven by a strong out-of-the-south wind (I lost track, but at least three, maybe four went over us Tuesday morning). You can see Brumley Point very distinctly, submarine ridge and McKenna Peak to the left it it, and you can’t quite make out Temple Butte. If you slide back up to the first pic, Temple Butte is juuuuuust barely visible at far left, just under the power lines. And yes, the sunshine IS coming back out over the rest of us while the wave pushes north to the east.

With Artemis II and its remarkable human beings on board, their mission, their accomplishments, the images they sent back, from space looking home, in mind … and realizing the absolute tiny-ness of this one itty-bitty part of our great, wide, wild, wonderful, big blue marble … ain’t Earth gorgeous? Now you can see Temple Butte’s promontory emerging from behind Brumley Point (see the graupel/moisture evidence shining below its rimrocks?) and submarine ridge and McKenna Peak. And though you can’t see them in this pic, there were two groups of mustangs out there. Across the road and on the other side of that fence IS Spring Creek Basin.

Anybody know what this prickly little caterpillar is called? I’m not sure of the plant it’s on, either.

I tried a lot, but I could NOT get the eye end (far left – is that an eye?) in focus. Of course, I didn’t know that in the field, not having my eyeball glasses on and looking through the glare of my phone screen, but I did try a number of shots with high hopes. One of our BLM range guys recently posted a pic of the same caterpillar, but he’s a plant guy (and an extraordinarily awesome one), not a bug guy, so I’m sure he can tell me the plant, if not the bug (!). If I reach him for an ID before this posts (or even after), I’ll update.

** Update from Ryan, BLM rangeland management specialist and all-around plant guy!:

“Cool that you’re seeing the same caterpillar! [He saw the same kind recently in Canyons of the Ancients National Monument, southwest of Spring Creek Basin.] I’m very curious as to what species of butterfly/moth they will turn into, I’m not good at insect ID but will ask Nate West [BLM wildlife biologist]. The plant that those are on is a mustard species called Alyssum simplex, commonly just called madwort. It’s a pretty prevalent non-native annual that is really common around here, unfortunately. It’s a beautiful picture of the hair-structure on the caterpillar!” Thanks, Ryan!

The reason you can’t see Utah’s La Sal Mountains in this pic – way northwest of Spring Creek Basin, from the very far southeastern part of Spring Creek Basin – is because the rain/graupel/snow wasn’t through sending waves over them. 🙂 You CAN see, from right to left, Round Top, Flat Top (looks sloping), Filly Peak and the south-facing rimrocks. Disappointment Road is over to the left somewhere (not far)

From here, we’re looking over not much of the southern part of Spring Creek Basin Herd Management Area (the pic above this one has a perspective to the right of this one) but a lot of the south/southwestern part of Disappointment Valley (most but not all of the pinon-juniper woodlands as far as the eye can see). The near pinon-juniper is within Spring Creek Basin.

From the same spot now looking back to the south/southeast at another little rain/snow/graupel-fall, toward the Glade and Benchmark Lookout (hi, Rick and Linda! (I think they’re not at the fire lookout tower quite yet)). The near hills and pinon-juniper are all within Spring Creek Basin. The far, thickly treed ridges are partly (middle-ish ground) part of upper Disappointment Valley and partly (farther) part of San Juan National Forest lands beyond Disappointment Valley and its watershed.

And what the heck was I doing at the high end of a long drop? See the horse trail? 🙂 I was following where the sure-footed have gone before me (and not for the first time).

The above are in order of how I took them … hours apart from first to last.

And because you came here for the mustangs …

Mysterium, modeling her scruffy-chic look (fashion designers, take note – ha!) below Temple Butte. 🙂 Yes, those are a couple of cuts on the inside of her left hind leg, but she’ll heal quickly, as mustangs do!

Thanks, as always, for coming along for glimpses of this special world. 🙂





Spring to snow

4 04 2026

Wait, that’s not a mustang, I hear you thinking. 🙂 Correct! That’s a young mule deer, and s/he starts the journey of this particular blog post (which doesn’t include a mustang in sight). S/he was, in fact, inside Spring Creek Basin Herd Management Area, and I was on the road.

But let’s back up a moment.

This is where my short trip up-Disappointment-Valley actually started: Seeing snow completely covering nearby Lone Cone from just within the southern part of Spring Creek Basin (not quite as far south/southeast as the mule deer). Except for the very southern area, Lone Cone isn’t visible from most of the basin. (And that promontory in the distance isn’t Temple Butte, which is closer and to my left out of frame.)

Much, most – all?? – of the region got blissful, sweet, rejuvenating rain (at least) on Wednesday. Obviously, higher elevations got some welcome snow. I write a lot about how dry it is in Disappointment Valley and, specifically, Spring Creek Basin. I’ve been writing a lot this “winter” about how dry it has been this past non-winter. It gives me no pleasure and a lot of terror to note that folks are now calling this the “worst [winter] on record,” according to The Colorado Sun. How bad is it?

“It’s now safe to conclude that this has been the worst year for Colorado snowpack in recorded history,” [Colorado Climate Center’s Russ] Schumacher wrote in his blog Thursday. (Note: Find his blog here.)

So consider this post part education, part joy at seeing Lone Cone covered in snow (at least for a little while). The words or phrases in blue (and possibly underlined) indicate links to outside sources. It’s going to be a little bit of a long post, too (sorry to bury the lede!), so grab your brew of choice and come along with me – and also, I should tell you now that this spans back-to-back days, an evening (Thursday) and the following morning (Friday). You’ll see why as we follow the snow. 🙂

I love Temple Butte. I loved Pati Temple, for whom the butte is named. Previously and for several years, I called it the unnamed promontory, and because it was unnamed, officially, we were able to apply to the U.S. Geological Survey, five years after her passing, to start the process to honor Pati and her dedicated devotion to Spring Creek Basin’s mustangs. Huge thanks to Kat Wilder for coming up with “Temple Butte” as a name, and especially ginormous thanks to Ann Bond (retired from the U.S. Forest Service) for diving deep into the computer work to get that done – undying gratitude! Now it is *officially* Temple Butte, though it’s hard to find maps yet with it marked as such. Our new kiosk at the main western entrance to Spring Creek Basin has a map that shows it (thanks, BLM!!), but when I did a Google search, although I came up with other Temple Butte(s) (!), I found only this reference to ours. It’s a super cool sort of AI rendition of looking at the region as though you’re on top of the butte. Move the view around, and you can see numerous named points of view, including McKenna Peak and Brumley Point. I’ve never been atop either Temple Butte or McKenna Peak, or Brumley Point, though I’ve been way up its sides, but I imagine you can’t help but have noticed that Temple Butte and McKenna Peak (at least) favor heavily in a lot of my images of Spring Creek Basin’s mustangs from all over the basin. 😉

I continued driving up-valley. …

I was so surprised to see this flock of turkeys that I almost didn’t realize at first what I was seeing!

Question: Why are turkeys SO hard to photograph?? Even when I’ve seen them close, my pix of them are almost always blurry. You’d think that with a bird THAT huge, they’d be a cinch. … Yeah, but those tiny heads are, well, tiny! I do love that you can see the color in this tom’s head and some of the greenish iridescence of his gorgeous feathers. There might have been eight to 12 birds in this flock?

Not much farther, I stopped in the middle of the road and shot over the hood to try to catch these two young bull elk and a cow as they raced across the road and into the trees near some cattle pens belonging to up-valley neighbors. Note the “orange” pines in the background. Not even in Southwest Colorado are we escaping the deaths of ponderosas (and other conifers) across Colorado and the West because of drought and insects.

According to the Colorado State Forest Service, there were more than 800 million standing dead trees as of this report from 2017: “Colorado’s decades-long mountain pine beetle epidemic resulted in almost 3.4 million acres with some degree of tree mortality; an ongoing spruce beetle epidemic has thus far resulted in 1.7 million impacted acres.”

Thankfully, there also are many live ponderosas. At this point, way up-valley, I was starting to get amazing views of Groundhog Mountain. “Groundhog” in this neck of the woods generally refers more to Groundhog Reservoir, where there’s a store and rental cabins and a tiny community of summer cabins. From this view of Groundhog Mountain, those are over yonder on the other side. In the view above – and also of Lone Cone – I was fascinated to see that the trees on the lower shoulders of both mountains were still cloaked in snow. And if you look closely at the above image, you can see that crazy ol’ wind blowing snow from the peak.

Looks pretty wintry, eh? But I think you can tell, even from this distance, that the snow layer is thin. The lower stands of trees are aspen, which are only just beginning to bud and leaf out (depending on elevation; I did see a couple of small pockets of aspen wearing their brand-new bright-green spring leaves).

Traffic jam! Disappointment-Valley-style. 🙂 Look at that GREEN. GRASS!

The elk didn’t cross the road to get to the green grass (there was plenty where they’d crossed from) but because the other side of the road features wide-open meadows and more of their friends and family. Almost all I saw in this crowd were cows and youngsters with some young bulls still hanging onto associations with mamas and aunties. There weren’t a huge number of them … fewer than 75, I’d guess.

What a contrast, right? The “ugly” head – but those colors! love! – with the absolutely gorgeous feathers. (The darkness at right is the back of my back truck window.) They’re also hard to photograph because they’re faster than you think they should be. This poor guy and another one were “stuck” on the road side of the fence …

… but they very quickly flapped and flew those big bodies over the fence to rejoin their flock. (I can’t get over how green it is up-valley. This is just several miles above the south end of Spring Creek Basin.)

The sun was quickly nearing the western horizon when I took this and the next couple of pix. Great timing, especially with some stormy clouds still swirling above and beyond Groundhog Mountain.

That light! That snow. 🙂 (You can see how not very far down it isn’t there at all.)

It’s still winter somewhere. 🙂 For a little bit longer. Lone Cone snow provides the water that eventually flows down Disappointment Creek, so the more snow, the better. That water doesn’t benefit the mustangs in Spring Creek Basin, but it benefits numerous other species of wildlife from way up high all the way to the canyons of the Dolores River at the far lower end of Disappointment Valley.

Admit it, you didn’t think it could get better. 🙂 When I first was at the upper end of the valley, the clouds were giving Groundhog Mountain the dramatic, bold light and color. This was pretty immediately post-sunset, and the clouds had drifted over to light up the sky above Lone Cone (Groundhog Mountain is farther to the right from this perspective). Um, WOW.

Here we go: A cellphone pic from the “lookout curve” on the switchbacks that lead up and out of Disappointment Valley on the Dolores-Norwood Road (toward Dolores) shows Lone Cone at left and Groundhog Mountain at right at just about last light. I couldn’t have timed that better (the curve was my ultimate destination) if I’d tried (and I did!).

Then it was a down-valley drive as the light faded. Fortunately, though I watched hard, no kamikaze elk or turkeys (or even deer) shared the road with me. I missed full-moonrise this month because of the weather (if you think I’m complaining, please allow me to reiterate my eternal gratitude for the mostly daylong rainfall!!!), and although there were some colorful clouds, they were mostly drifting along the horizons by dark, so I thought maybe I’d get to see the night-after-full-moonrise from farther down-valley. …

This is from my phone (!): Moonrise over Disappointment Valley. WoWoWoWoW!!!

It took a bit for the moon to clear the horizon clouds, but holy wow. You can clearly see Temple Butte and Brumley Point under the glow of the moon. While I’m sure the view of space FROM space (lookin’ at ya’ll, Artemis II astronauts!) is, ahem, otherworldly, I kinda think the above is pretty damn cool (and from my *phone*!). This might be my favorite image from the entire day/night.

Because I couldn’t resist trying to capture it with my camera, too. 🙂 Those are clouds at lower left as the moon was rising out of the cloud bank.

What a day, right?! And that was literally just about the last three hours of it.

And then the next morning came. … My phone’s weather app’s radar showed spots of snow over Disappointment Valley. Oh, you liar, thought I (because it so usually does lie). … And then I went out into the world.

Well, knock me over with a feather! It DID snow … up-valley, not mid- or lower valley (nor did it rain). In the foreground are very newly leafed-out cottonwoods along Disappointment Creek, and in the midground are part of the rimrocks that form the southwestern boundary of Spring Creek Basin. In the background, starting at far right: Flat Top, Round Top and submarine ridge; smack dab in the middle, McKenna Peak; and towering o’er all, Temple Butte.

And from up-valley:

What I call submarine ridge at far left … and McKenna Peak just right of dead center. The very top/back ridge, if you follow it right, ends in Temple Butte.

Voila!

That snow will soak in; it’s not enough to produce runoff. And it was windy again, which further contributes to drying.

The tiniest bit of a tiny dusting still lingered in shady places under trees (this was just inside the Spring Creek Basin boundary from up-valley along Disappointment Road). Evidence that it HAD, in fact, snowed in the area.

And one last view, of Groundhog Mountain, through a curtain of snow!

It’s a crazy world. 🙂

It’s a crazy BEAUTIFUL world! 🙂

Thanks for coming along. Hope you enjoyed our (temporary) retreat to winter. Snow or rain, we need any and/or all that Mother Nature wishes to bestow.





And then … this

7 08 2025

Note: Images are from Tuesday, Aug. 5. Yes, I’m in Spring Creek Basin for the below (cell-phone) images, and yes, the fire is fairly close as the eagle soars (the next county south, which is Dolores County; the basin is mostly in San Miguel County but does extend south into northern Dolores County). However, the horses are not in danger; there’s actually a lotta country between there and and the basin.

If you’ve visited Spring Creek Basin, you’ll recognize this cattle guard at the intersection of Road 19Q (Disappointment Road) and Road K20E. What you most likely and very fortunately have NOT seen as you head east toward Spring Creek Basin is a giant, nuclear-cloud-looking smoke plume. 😦 That’s the newly started Stoner Mesa Fire. (This is the Durango Herald link; you may hit a paywall, or you may get a free read of three articles (?).)

I won’t lie; I nearly had a heart attack when I saw that plume. Back in 2002, I was working at the aforementioned Durango Herald, and when I drove to work each afternoon (copy editor/page designer shift of 3 p.m. to midnight), the nuclear-plume of smoke from the Missionary Ridge Fire greeted me with heart-stopping awesomeness (and not in a good way) every time I topped Hesperus Hill to descend toward Durango.

This is from the area we call Chrome’s Point in western Spring Creek Basin, looking east-southeast. Yes, those dark-and-white spots at far left, left of the main/original water catchment aprons (looks like a tennis court) and tank are mustangs. Thankfully, they seemed completely and totally oblivious. The air was hot and smoky: Dragon Bravo Fire, Sharp Canyon Fire, Turner Gulch Fire (smoke still visible from it, too), Waters Canyon Fire … and who knows what other fires contributing to our air dis-quality (!?)) – more hazy than seems apparent from these images.

Moonrise over McKenna Peak and Temple Butte from farther north in the basin. Most of the smoke was blocked by the eastern horizon of ridges from this perspective.

Sunset through smoke. Pretty … but it is violently, dangerously dry out there.

This is a hot, bad, dry (and very-bad-dry) summer, folks. Please be mindful of anything that could spark a flame, stay safe, and support your firefighters … local, regional, state and national. And rain dances are *ALWAYS* appreciated. 🙂

(I went with my phone pix for this post, but I may have some from my big camera in coming days. … May …)





All about perspective

5 03 2025

Spotlit by heaven’s sunshine is Temple Butte. You’re not used to seeing it from this vantage point, are you?

That’s because when I took this image, I was way up high among the ridges that form the southern boundary of Disappointment Valley, and I’m looking uppish-valley (!). Snow was still blowing through the region, and the sunlight was finding different and varied windows through the clouds … and

IT

WAS

SPECTACULAR!

Every time I’m up there, I’m reminded anew how absolutely gorgeous is this part of the world. Spring Creek Basin is back to the leftish, and with the clouds and sunlight and waves of snow … it was more painting than reality. But it WAS reality, and by gosh, it was gorgeous.

(I even saw a band of mustangs from up there, but they were very far away and nearly impossible to see other than through binoculars. I think I did take a pic with them in it, but they’re not in this pic.)





Icon below an icon

10 05 2024

Sigh. My boy Storm. Could he be any more handsome!? 🙂





Up the ridge we go

2 01 2024

Couple of things:

Yes, it really is (still) that dry in Spring Creek Basin and most of the rest of southwestern Colorado. Pooh on the U.S. Drought Monitor for thinking (erroneously in my oh-so-very-humble opinion) that we’re only “moderately dry.”

And: proof that mustangs and mountain goats have a common ancestor (!). 🙂

That’s Sundance (and one of his mares) on a finger of a ridge at the very southeastern end of what we call Knife Edge (which actually is fairly broad on top). This pic, taken with my phone as I hiked out to a series of hills to get up to the ridge that snaked down to where his band was, isn’t even wide enough to show how far to the right I had to go to get to that access area – where I could bypass the rimrocks. The other side of this ridge features a little cove, where a couple of the horses were grazing as I drove up the road to the point where I started hiking, but it’s all rimrock-locked. In other words, the only way TO that point is back up the way they got TO it in the first place.

OK, a third thing: You know I’m going to show you all some scenery from up on that ridge, don’t you? 🙂 (Here’s a crazy thing: As much hiking as I’ve done in Spring Creek Basin during the last 21 (starting to inch up on 22?!) years, I’ve never been up on that particular ridge or on the very top of Knife Edge. … The horses are very good guides at getting me to new places. :))

Upon leaving my buggy to start my hike (the big ridge and Sundance’s band are directly to my left), this was the first view that made me reach for my phone (aka easy-to-access camera). I’m just south of an area of Spring Creek Basin that I call the east pocket. Knife Edge is basically to about my 11 o’clock, and the sandy-colored ridges at the right of the image are what I call Valentine Mesa. The mountains are a stone’s throw away (!) in Utah; from the ridge I was later on with the horses, they’re mostly blocked by the bulk of Knife Edge.

I’m up on the ridge that leads to the horses’ location farther down at the fingertip end of it. That big rise of grey Mancos shale and orangier (!) sandstone is Knife Edge. The southern peaks of the mountains are just visible way, way out against the turquoise sky. Spring Creek canyon is visible at far left. That’s the basin’s western boundary; the farthest treed ridges are the southern/southwestern boundary of Disappointment Valley above the Dolores River and its canyons.

Looking left-ish from the above pic, that’s Spring Creek cutting through Spring Creek Basin in the middle ground. What I call the “weeping wall” is down there, and it provides a pretty constant source of trickling water for the mustangs. At far upper right is the eastern end of Filly Peak in the basin’s western region, and straight out is Flat Top. Round Top is barely visible at left. In about the middle ground – shadowed on its northeastish length – is the ridge I call rollercoaster (though it doesn’t look very rollercoastery from this perspective). … And see the glimmer just above/beyond it? That’s the rollercoaster ridge pond, still decently full of water (semi-frozen, depending on conditions). That’s the pond from the “Reflections” post recently. … And what do McKenna Peak and Temple Butte look like from THIS perspective?

I’m so glad you wondered! 🙂 From a little right of left: Temple Butte, McKenna Peak, what I call submarine ridge (you can see the two “arm” ridges of the actual feature from here) and Brumley Point, on Spring Creek Basin’s southeastern boundary. The Glade is in the far distance, touching the sky. A little closer – middle ground – is Spring Creek and part of the basin’s loop road (rough, and I would not recommend driving a vehicle on this section). The ridge down to the horses starts to the left and runs through the nearer middle of the pic. Sundance was actually partially visible (his back), but I don’t think he shows up very well in this pic.

This pic (left) and the next (right) were taken from the same vantage point, but when I tried to stitch them together into a bit of a panorama in Photoshop, it didn’t work out so well. So, using the ridge in front of me as your guide, you’ll have to use your imagination a bit as you scroll up and down to look left and right (!).

If you can find the ribbon of road, out there in sort of the middle, heading uphill (to the left from this perspective), is where I was when I looked up and horses appeared, much to my wondering eyes! (Magic isn’t just the domain of Santa, folks.) If I’d been going the other way around the loop, downhill, which is my usual direction and preference given some fairly challenging road issues (!), I don’t think I’d have seen them because I’d have had to look back over my shoulder and up. I try to look in that area because I’ve seen Sundance’s band in that relative vicinity before, but see the little “cove” down to the right in the second pic (the one right above)? That’s where a couple of the horses were when I first spotted them from below, and if I’d been in a different place, I wouldn’t – couldn’t – have seen them there from the road.

Another lesson: Perspective often is everything. 🙂

Pretty dry out there. The forecast is starting to show us some glimmers of hope for coming snow. We got kind of skunked over Christmas, but fingers and hooves are crossed that our winter will start picking up in this newest part of the new year.





Giving thanks, early

5 10 2022

We have had a pretty amazing surge of rain this fall – contrary to the forecasts for a dryer-than-usual fall. Or maybe that was for Colorado in general, which doesn’t seem to remember sometimes that our southwestern corner IS, in fact, still within the Centennial State’s borders. (And although we’re still dry – we *are* high desert, after all – other parts of Colorado are in (much) more severe drought than we are now. The U.S. Drought Monitor has reduced us to “abnormally dry.”)

Lower Disappointment Valley (as the elevation changes – and it changes rather dramatically from upper to very lower – rainfall amounts vary wildly) has gotten at least 1.84 inches of rain just in October. … Are you paying attention? That’s just the last few days! To put that in perspective, we got just 2 inches of liquid moisture between last Dec. 1 and this April 1 (that’s liquid from snow). Wowza.

We’re kinda dancin’ a bit ’round here. 🙂

The pix in this post are of Temple Butte … different perspectives than normally seen from the interior of Spring Creek Basin. The top pic was taken from southeast of the southernmost basin boundary (Spring Creek Basin is basically on the *other* side of it from that perspective), and the one above was taken from below the last/southern/southeasternmost drainage in the basin – both from Disappointment Road.





Moon over Disappointment

20 09 2021

Magic happens.

I rest my case. 🙂





Beloved horizon

2 07 2021

Just about everything is shown in this one pic – just about everything I love: Mustang (and there are more in the yonder) and that horizon that always lets me know I’m home after any amount of time away.

As always, I wonder what the horse sees/thinks as he looks out on that view, those places he knows intimately as a true, wild resident of that vast, wild land.