An Autumn Dream of Emerald and Gold: Looking Back at October 7, 2015
It was a golden October day when my son Victor and I set out to climb the hidden jewel of the Rocky Mountains. The air in Dead Horse Canyon tasted cool and crisp, filled with the scent of pine needles and damp stone. From the very first steps on the trail, it was clear that this path would give us nothing for free. The trail turned steeply upward immediately, crisscrossed by gnarled roots and massive stone boulders. Victor led the way determinedly in his red jacket. Every step required concentration, and placing our hands against the cold rock walls gave us leverage and support in the steepest passages.
Looking back, the wild drama of the gorge revealed itself. The monumental cliffs of light sandstone towered almost vertically into the flawlessly deep blue sky. Like sentinels, they framed the valley, while far below, the dense coniferous forest lay like a dark green carpet. This green was repeatedly interrupted by the brilliant golden-yellow of autumn deciduous trees, which seemed to glow intensely in the gleaming sunlight. Further up, the path became a literal sea of boulders—a labyrinth of reddish-gray granite blocks that felt cool and unapproachable in the shadow of the old fir trees, while the opposite peaks shone white in the sun.
Gallery: The Strenuous Ascent
After the final, grueling rock steps that brought beads of sweat to our brows, the landscape opened up like a stone amphitheater—and there it lay: Hanging Lake. The atmosphere up here was characterized by an almost sacred silence. The water possessed an unnatural, magical clarity, shimmering in the most intense shades of emerald green and turquoise. An ancient tree trunk, bleached white by the sun, rested motionlessly in the crystal-clear water. Victor stood exhausted but happy on the shore, shielding his eyes from the bright mountain sun.
Peering flat through the mirror-smooth surface, we spotted numerous trout gliding silently as dark silhouettes over the sandy lake bed. Gentle bridal veil waterfalls cascaded over a soft, moss-covered travertine edge, feeding this untouched sanctuary. Even a cheeky Steller’s jay with a deep black crest and vibrant blue plumage kept us company, eyeing our well-deserved hiker’s lunch greedily. After this magical rest, we began our descent. Our knees shook slightly as we navigated down the steep stone steps, and on a wooden observation platform hovering boldly over the abyss, we cast one last look down into the deep shadows of the valley.
Gallery: The Magical Destination and the Return Path
The Serenity of the River and the Denied Goal: September 26, 2026
Eleven years later, I was drawn back to this magical place—this time accompanied by my wife Hania and my sister-in-law Basia. Our drive took us from Keystone down into Glenwood Canyon, and even as we drove down, the gigantic proportions of this natural wonder took our breath away. However, disillusionment followed at the entrance: due to strict conservation regulations, an online permit is now required, which we had been unaware of. Hanging Lake remained closed to us that day. But the warmth of the man at the gate saved our excursion—he granted us 45 minutes to enjoy a walk along the banks of the Colorado River.
Those 45 minutes became a time of pure peace and visual poetry. The mighty Colorado River flowed completely calm and lazy through the valley, its surface smooth as polished glass. It acted as a gigantic mirror for the monumental backdrop framing it. The massive, horizontally stratified rock walls of ocher sandstone and dark granite rose dizzyingly steep on both sides. On the left edge, the bold concrete structure of Interstate 70 on stilts nestled harmoniously into the tight curves of the gorge—a fascinating interplay of raw nature and human engineering.
The deep blue of the sky on this late September day was covered with a delicate web of white altocumulus clouds, which, along with the reddish rock edges, mirrored themselves with razor-sharp clarity in the deep green water. A huge, vibrant light-green deciduous tree dominated the shoreline, forming the lively, gentle heart of the canyon amidst the stark stone walls. We strolled along the paved canyon path, enjoying the warm light of the late summer and the absolute silence, which was broken only by the gentle gurgling of the river. It was not Hanging Lake, but the Colorado offered us an unforgettable consolation that day.
Gallery: Stroll Along the Colorado River
