Maroon Bells, 47 Hours Awake
This is a long story.
Fitting, I guess.
It was a very very long day.
Two days, really.
It was a very very long day.
Two days, really.
This story began months before I ever made it to Maroon Bells.
For anyone who hasn’t been, it’s one of the most iconic locations in Colorado. A wide valley, dramatic peaks, a still lake that reflects everything perfectly. And in the fall, when the aspens turn, it becomes something else entirely. It’s easily one of the most photographed places in the state.
Which also means it’s one of the hardest to photograph the way you want.
You need permits to get in during peak fall. Those go on sale months in advance, sometime around February or March. The tricky part is that peak color is unpredictable. Weather, temperature, timing, everything shifts year to year. You’re essentially guessing which morning, months in advance, might line up with peak conditions.
So I didn’t guess one date. I booked multiple mornings.
The permits sold out in under a minute. I was ready for it, and somehow managed to get all of the days I wanted.
Fast forward to mid-September.
We picked a weekend that looked promising based on reports and recent conditions. I reached out to a few close friends, and we started putting together a plan. Spencer managed to get us access to his parents’ place in Keystone, which became our base.
The idea was simple. Stay there, chase colors, and time Maroon Bells for sunrise.
The day we were supposed to leave, I woke up at 3 AM.
Not for photography. For work.
I wanted everything done before disappearing for a few days, so I worked through the entire morning… and then the afternoon.
By evening, I was already running on fumes.
But it was time to go.
My friend Erika was driving us. She had a concert that evening, so the plan was to leave around 10 PM. But we didn’t. Traffic. Delays. We finally left Boulder around midnight.
My friend Erika was driving us. She had a concert that evening, so the plan was to leave around 10 PM. But we didn’t. Traffic. Delays. We finally left Boulder around midnight.
By the time we got to Keystone, it was 2:30 AM.
Maroon Bells was still three hours away.
At that point, sleep was technically an option. A bad one, but still an option. We didn’t take it.
We made some tea. Drank some coffee. Sat around for a few minutes, just long enough to pretend we were resting. And then we got back in the car and started driving again.
No sleep.
We reached Maroon Bells before sunrise. And the second I stepped out of the car, I knew.
No wind. No movement on the lake. The peaks were just starting to separate from the dark, and the whole place had that kind of stillness that makes you stop in your tracks.
No wind. No movement on the lake. The peaks were just starting to separate from the dark, and the whole place had that kind of stillness that makes you stop in your tracks.
This was it.
And then things got even better.
The sun started to rise. The peaks caught that first intense alpenglow. The entire scene turned warm, almost glowing.
A red fox appeared near the lake. Quiet. Brief. Gone before most people even noticed.
And then, something bigger. A bull moose.
Not somewhere in the distance. In the scene.
Exactly where you would place it if you were designing or painting this scene.
I didn’t know what to shoot. The landscape. The reflection. The moose. The light.
Everything was happening at once. The conditions were too idyllic.
The moose stayed. For a long time. Long enough for me to slow down, compose properly, and make the image I had come for.
One of my favorite images I’ve ever taken.
And then, like an idiot, I decided to get closer to the moose. I moved slowly. Carefully.
Got a few tighter shots. Environmental portraits with the fall colors behind it.
At this point, it had been around 30 hours since I woke up. And the day was just getting started...
Somewhere in the middle of all this, I realized I had completely lost track of my friends.
They were fine. They had gone off on their own, exploring other parts of the area. Everyone ended up having their own version of the morning.
We regrouped later and headed into Aspen for breakfast.
The rest of the day felt endless. In a good way.
We chased colors everywhere. Ashcroft, the ghost town. Independence Pass. Random pull-offs that looked promising.
Everywhere we went, the hills were glowing. Gold layered on gold.
At one point, we came across a family of moose. Two young ones.
Moving through a pond, completely unbothered. It was quiet. Still. Almost unreal.
By the evening, we made it back to the condo. At this point, the sensible thing to do would have been to sleep.
But we didn’t do that either.
We had dinner. Played board games. Talked. Backed up photos. Edited a few favorites.
Time just… kept going.
Sometime around 2 AM, I finally went to bed.
Forty-seven hours.
That’s how long I had been awake.
My eyes were completely gone.
Red. Dry. Bloodshot in a way that didn’t feel normal.
Part altitude.
Part exhaustion.
Part just pushing too far.
Part exhaustion.
Part just pushing too far.
But honestly, I’d do it again.
Maroon Bells.
A place worth losing sleep over.
