Maroon Bells in autumn, White River NF, CO, USA
Some photographers love photographing icons, and try to visit as many as possible. Others avoid them at all costs.
But I think most of us have mixed feelings about them. These iconic spots have a certain undeniable appeal. There are good reasons, after all, why these places have become iconic: they’re great locations. With the right conditions, it’s possible to capture some beautiful images at these spots. They work.
And it’s natural to feel a certain curiosity about these places. Can you visit Yosemite for the first time and not go to Tunnel View? Or travel to Death Valley and avoid Zabriskie Point? After seeing so many images of these locations, most photographers would at least like to see them in person – as long as they’re in the neighborhood.
On the other hand, it’s difficult to do something creative and apply your own artistic vision at these iconic locations, yet still make an image that carries a sense of the place. At best, with some luck and good conditions, you might capture something that’s similar to, and maybe as good as, some of those previous images.
On our recent trip to Colorado, our pursuit of fall color and interesting weather led us to the Aspen area, home to the most iconic photo spot in the state – the Maroon Bells. I had visited the Maroon Bells once before, about 20 years ago, in summer, but I don’t think I made a single photo that day. Now, however, we were in the neighborhood in autumn, when the aspens would be turning color underneath the mountains, and there was also fresh snow on the peaks – both essential conditions for a classic image of the Maroon Bells.
Claudia asked me whether I wanted to photograph them, and I didn’t know how to answer. I felt a great deal of ambivalence. Did I want to deal with the crowds of other photographers I knew would be there? How early would I have to go to get a decent spot – just to capture a photograph similar to thousands that have been made before, and virtually identical to those taken by the photographers who would be standing next to me?
On the other hand, the weather forecasts hinted at a clearing storm Sunday morning. With aspens turning, fresh snow on the peaks, and a clearing storm at sunrise – when would I have a better opportunity to photograph that spot?
In the end, the lure of the Bells proved too strong, and I decided to try it. Since I hadn’t been there in 20 years, we elected to go up on Saturday afternoon (September 30th) to scout. Maybe I could, after all, find a different perspective. If not, then I would at least know where to go the next morning.
One thing that complicates photographing the Maroon Bells is that you’re not allowed to drive your car up to Maroon Lake between 8 a.m. and 5 p.m. Between those hours you have to take a shuttle bus from Aspen, which we wanted to avoid. So at 4:45 p.m. we lined up at the gate and waited to get in, along with some 40 other cars. It was raining, as it had been off and on all day, but that didn’t seem to deter people.
On the drive up to the lake the rain almost stopped, and we caught a glimpse of the Bells just before we got to the parking area. By the time we got to the shore of the lake the mountains had disappeared behind clouds, but soon bits and pieces of them started to poke through. Gradually more and more of the Bells emerged, their ledges etched with fresh snow, surrounded by mist, with yellow aspens below, all reflected in the calm lake surface. It was a stunning scene, and photographically irresistible. I pushed thoughts of scouting to the back of my brain as I concentrated on photographing what was in front of me.
Over the next hour and a half the mist shifted, sometimes hiding the peaks, but they always reappeared after a short wait. One time the wind picked up, ruffling the reflections, but it soon died down again. At one point a woman let her dog wade into the lake (legally, on a leash), causing ripples, until a photographer politely asked if she could take her dog out of the water. (Okay, that photographer was me.)
During all this I tried different compositions: vertical, horizontal, wider, tighter. I even walked up the little rise next to the lake to try a different vantage point. And I photographed the jagged peaks to the north, and the misty ridges left and right of the Bells. But I kept coming back to the lakeshore and the Maroon Bells, and to a wide, horizontal composition that included the aspens on the hillside to the right of the Bells. Many, many photographers have made similar compositions from this spot, and now I knew why.
During this time there were at least 100 people around the lakeshore. Surprisingly, only a few had tripods. Others took smartphone pictures, or selfies, or walked around and enjoyed the view. There were lots of dogs, and kids playing. It was hardly a wilderness experience, but people were having a good time, enjoying a beautiful, natural spectacle.
We “serious” photographers along the lakeshore kept waiting for the sun to break through and create some color in the clouds. (You’re looking west toward the Bells from this spot, so in the afternoon the scene is backlit – if there’s sunlight.) We saw a few patches of blue sky, and occasional hints of light and color, but that was about it.
Nevertheless, the mist was beautiful, and the aspens added enough color. My favorite moment is shown in the photograph above, with just a hint of color in the sky.
Claudia and I still wanted to come back the next morning. Sunrise would be around seven o’clock, and we debated how early I would need to be there to get a good spot. Six? Five? We decided that we needed be at Maroon Lake by 5:30 at the latest.
It was raining when we arrived at the parking area the next morning at 5:20, but we found at least 20 cars there already. Damn. I grabbed my camera equipment and rain gear and hurried out to the lakeshore. And I found… nobody. I was the first one there. Apparently everyone else was sitting in their cars waiting for the rain to stop.
It was pitch dark. I found my chosen spot only because I recognized a small rock I had set my camera bag on the previous evening. Soon other photographers started arriving, with headlamps shining all over the place. It quickly became apparent that most of them had never been there before. Several people asked me where the mountain was. I pointed in the general direction of the Maroon Bells, which I could barely make out in the dark if I shielded my eyes from the headlamps.
Before first light most of the lakeshore was lined with photographers. By sunrise there were about 200 people at the lake; maybe half had tripods. Unfortunately there was no mist, and wind ruffled the lake surface, killing reflections. We saw colorful clouds behind us at sunrise, and a few times some faint spots of sunlight broke through to the right of the Bells, but that was it.
I liked the conditions better the previous evening, yet, strangely, I still enjoyed my time there Sunday morning. It’s hard to explain, but there was something special about standing around in the dark with a bunch of other photographers, all waiting and hoping for a good sunrise. Everyone was considerate of each other. The man next to me had his family with him, and his wife and son hung out while he stood beside his tripod waiting for the sun to break through. Many other family groups waited along the lakeshore, and people brought their dogs too. It was like being at an outdoor concert, waiting for the performance to begin – only the performance was orchestrated by the sun, clouds, and wind. It wasn’t a spectacular performance that morning, but that’s the way it goes. People seemed to have a good time anyway.
My image from Saturday evening isn’t better or different than thousands of others made from that same spot, but it has a nice mood, and I’m happy with it. Above all, seeing the Maroon Bells wrapped in mist, with fresh snow and yellow aspens underneath, was special. The scene was more beautiful than any photograph can convey, and I’m glad I got to see it in person.
— Michael Frye
Aspens, conifers, and mist from Maroon Lake, White River NF, CO, USA
Jagged peaks of the Elk Mountains, from Maroon Lake, White River NF, CO, USA
Related Posts: Colorado Autumn; More Colorado Aspens
Michael Frye is a professional photographer specializing in landscapes and nature. He is the author or principal photographer of The Photographer’s Guide to Yosemite, Yosemite Meditations, Yosemite Meditations for Women, Yosemite Meditations for Adventurers, and Digital Landscape Photography: In the Footsteps of Ansel Adams and the Great Masters. He has also written three eBooks: Light & Land: Landscapes in the Digital Darkroom, Exposure for Outdoor Photography, and Landscapes in Lightroom: The Essential Step-by-Step Guide. Michael has written numerous magazine articles on the art and technique of photography, and his images have been published in over thirty countries around the world. Michael has lived either in or near Yosemite National Park since 1983, currently residing just outside the park in Mariposa, California.
Fantastic Maroon Bells in you photo, Michael!!
Great images as always.
Thank you very much for sharing your iconic vision.
Thanks Eunice!
The photos are magical and enjoyed by this photographer tremendously.
Thanks for Sharing.
Thank you Kearnes!
At the very least, when you photograph an icon, you know you were there and how you felt.
I guess that’s true. Though I think I know that about every place I photograph.
Love your pictures. There are some icons I have no interest in photographing, but when I saw pictures of Maroon Bells I knew I had to see it in person. It is just so beautiful. I love my picture of The Bells and I have a print of it hanging on the wall. I love your blog and your stories behind the pictures.
Thanks Sharon, and I’m glad you have good memories and a photo you like of the Maroon Bells.
This is one of the best pics of the most iconic place in CO and taken at sunset instead of sunrise. I remember my visit 5 years ago with hundreds at sunrise and no clouds. The storm clouds and light on peak and fall colors will put it in your top 5 of the year. I will shoot icons but try to put a creative spin on it like you just did so successfully. Kudos.
Thanks Karl! I’ll take mist over sunlight in most places.
Please visit more icons! It is wonderful to see and experience your view, plus all the little things that only happen at that moment, regardless of how many times we’ve seen the scene. Moments ago, I came across your photograph in a Google+ community, and knew it was yours even before I noticed your watermark (and hadn’t tapped into your email yet). Silly, but I felt proud that I subscribe here and could act like I know you (as I showed my wife the photo), though we’ve never met. Thanks for sharing.
Well we’ll see! If conditions look promising I’m not averse to photographing icons. Thanks for the kind words!
Agree with DCraig! Keep going to icons! Many of us enthusiasts will never have a chance to make it to some of these icons, but we see them and feel them through your images. Beautiful work, thank you for sharing. Did you use any filters to balance the exposure? Or bracket/merge? Thanks again.
Well again, we’ll see! No filters here. I did bracket, but ended up using just one exposure, with Lightroom’s Highlight and Shadow tools, plus some dodging and burning, to balance the contrast.
I love the mist and snow. This brings back memories of our visit there, which was in the middle of summer. We visited multiple times and managed to catch some light on our last morning there. But my favorite memories are of a momma yellow bellied marmot keeping watch while two youngsters ran around the visitors area, wrestling as siblings do.
Thanks Vivienne. I think the marmots were already in hibernation when we were there, but I’m glad you got to see them. I always love seeing them in the Yosemite high country.
There may have been many photographers there, but I am sure that none of them got the shots that you did. There is something called skill and knowledge. You don’t wake up one morning and you can take great pictures. You have to hone your craft, as you have done.
Thank you
Thanks Tom!
I am of almost the exact same mindset. Unless conditions are once in a lifetime, I’ll just never bother shooting Tunnel View, Valley View, the GG Bridge, you-name-it again.
The good thing about some icons is how many different takes they provide for, ala El Cap, and the ability to walk all around it looking for something new. But that’s rare.
I like the crescent smile of fog at the bottom of the mountain in your shot.
Gordon, you make a good point about how much variation a certain icon can provide. Some, like Horsetail Fall in February, or the Pfeiffer Beach Arch in December, can only be photographed from a certain angle at a certain time. That’s going to lead to crowding, and also makes it difficult to capture something different. But other icons can be photographed from different angles, and/or at different times of the day or year. That spreads the photographers out more, and also makes it easier to do something more original.
I go to Tunnel View a lot, since it’s in my backyard so to speak. And even though there’s basically one area to stand in, you can catch interesting conditions there at any time of year, so that tends to spread out the photo crowds a bit. And even though you can’t move around much, there are many possible compositions. I’ve used focal lengths from 16mm to 300mm there, depending on what the light and weather were doing at a particular time. So I think the creative potential at Tunnel View is actually pretty high, even though it’s been photographed so much. And I think that’s true of many other iconic spots – though certainly not all.
Michael,
Excellent photo of an iconic place from an iconic viewpoint but with a different – backlit – twist.
My first reasonably good (IMO) Colorado landscape was of the Maroon Bells on 17 September 1977 taken with a Minolta SRT 100 camera, a Vivitar 70-300 zoom lens, a polarizer and a tripod using ASA 64 Kodachrome slide film. I had it blown up to an 11×17 print, matted and framed and it hung in my home and later in my office until my retirement at the end of 2008.
In ’77 there were no busses and one could drive up to almost the edge of the lake at any time of day. The crowds were still there, especially on weekends. My last visit to the Bells was in September, 2015 via the shuttle bus as I did not arise early enough to beat the clock. Except for a little more comercialization it has changed little. An old log in Maroon Lake was missing and there was a large beaver den on the west side that I don’t remember from the past.
This is one of those places that gives you a certain feeling when you are there and your image revived in me that feeling. Thank you!
Thanks for sharing your story Jim. Things have indeed changed – not just at the Maroon Bells, but at so many popular photo spots. Though the Maroon Bells are right up there among the most overrun photo locations in the country at this point, at least during the brief period when the aspens are turning.
Yep, 20 cars at 5:20 am because of the insatiable constant stream of photo publicity for profit or ego grandisement. The world is rapidly turning into a photo zoo. So you said “Damn” and maybe you can figure out why? Wilderness is rapidly disappearing into a Facebooked photo shoot. I know so many commentors pet your ego, but let’s face the “Damn” that you uttered regardless of how you tried to sanitize it afterwards.
This is such a negative comment (and an anonymous one at that) that I was tempted to just delete it. But I’m going to leave it for now. I’m happy to have a discussion with you if you want to use your name and not hide behind a pseudonym, and if you want to have a reasonable discussion and not just rant.
I agree in some respects to Zoolandia’s comments about F’book and the need for posting photos. Some posts seem more about the photographer and less about the landscape. However, what is wrong with that? It is a healthier activity than many others. And we each have our own reasons for our hobby, photography. Isn’t the point of making a photo to share it with an audience? Thank you for keeping the comment, Michael. I do hope Zoolandia circles back around and writes more of his thoughts. I would be interested to read.
And I too have faced the conflict you, Michael, articulate on shooting or just merely enjoying an Icon. You describe something far deeper than just making a photo. There is a community shared at the icons, “there was something special about standing around in the dark with a bunch of other photographers, all waiting and hoping for a good sunrise.” Maybe it has changed over the years from being a place of isolation and a nature. And it can be fun meeting fellow photographers sharing the same miserable misty cold weather with the hopes the sun peaks through. There are still many of those isolated and beautiful spots. It just takes a little more effort hiking or finding them. Thanks for writing about this topic as it resonates with many of us hobbyist/enthusiasts.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts here Rod. You bring up a lot of interesting points. If you go to a popular photo spot with the expectation that you’re going to share it with lots of people, and you’re okay with that, you’ll have a much better time than if you grumble about all the other people in your way.
And regarding your first comment, photography is, to me, definitely a form of communication, and that requires both the photographer to make the photograph as well as someone to look at it. When we post a photograph online we hope people respond to it, and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. And yes, there’s often some “ego gratification” involved. We all hope others will like our photographs, and I think that’s pretty normal human behavior. Hopefully that’s not someone’s only motivation – I know it’s not for me.
I find this comment includes many assumptions. As a hobbyist, I’ve been one of those that arrive before dawn to capture images, and for the experience…of the sunrise at Dead Horse Point, or a storm clearing at Tunnel View, or the hike to Delicate Arch, etc. The images I capture help bring it all back months and years later. Not everyone is out for profit or ‘likes’ on social media. Thank you, Michael for sharing your images and what you experienced.
It’s definitely an icon for a reason! Glad you were able to get some sweet moody shots of it with the mist.
Thanks Jason! Your ebook has been a great help to me on our trips to Colorado, and your images an inspiration.
Thanks, Michael, glad I could help and I really appreciate it! I’ve been focusing more the past few years on finding and shooting unknown fall locations around Colorado, so let me know the next time you come out!
I found this to be a well reasoned and enjoyable take on photographing icons, an extremely controversial subject. Ha. 😉
I once asked, “Is it an icon if you don’t know it’s an icon?” Just a year into my so far brief, part-time career as an unpaid landscape photographer, I stumbled across the Dallas Divide in early spring and beautiful lighting conditions. I knew nothing of this place beforehand, but I immediately recognized an awe inspiring vista, which I proceeded to excitedly photograph from the roadside pullover. I still love looking at that photograph!
Thanks Blake. “Is it an icon if you don’t know it’s an icon?” In that case you won’t be influenced, for better or worse, by seeing many other photos of that spot. That means you might do something different, or inadvertently make the same composition as most other photographers. But in terms of your experience, it would be fresh, and maybe that’s the most important thing.
well written post and excellent images Michael! living on the eastside its been quite awhile since i’ve shot north lake during peak fall colors due to its increased popularity. But as you say they are popular locations for good reason!
Thanks Cory.
Michael, it is a beautiful image and a wonderful telling of how you captured it.
As regards photographing an icon which has been captured by others . . . As a fly fisher, I believe that I never step into the same river twice. It is always changing, flowing and ebbing. And so it is with photography. The conditions change and so the resulting images are all different, if only so subtly sometimes. And so, I will resign myself to that conclusion when I can not find a truly different and unique composition. Let’s carry on.
Thanks for sharing a fisherman’s perspective Hadley! Indeed things are always changing, though I think some iconic spots are more variable than others. Tunnel View is exceptional in that regard, as it changes dramatically with different weather conditions, can have interesting, different light at any time of year, and you can make many different compositions work from that spot. On the other hand, some other iconic spots are iconic because of particular conditions that only occur at a certain time of year, and may perhaps only appear from a certain angle. Horsetail Fall is a good example of that. It’s possible to find some different takes on Horsetail Fall, but it’s not easy.
Excellent points, Michael. Hope to see you down the photographic road.