Luke is small town raised from the mountains of Carbondale, Colorado. At 26, he Currently resides in Denver. With an endless expanse of mountains, desert and plains, adventures carry him in every direction. In addition to photography, he is a touring musician and has a strong love for friends, family and the natural world. Come hang and follow along with his journeys on Instagram as well as his Tumblr. Cheers!
Before winter’s frost emerges, the aspens perform one final swan song. South of Denver lies Kenosha pass. A once well traveled hunting rout by the Ute tribes, Kenosha towers above North Fork South Platte River valley and the headwaters of the South Platte River. This spine in the southern Rocky Mountains gives rise to the native aspens unlike many places in the west. It’s hard to imagine any tree being more beautiful than the deciduous forests of the east or the giants on the west coast, but the Aspens will always be the royal crowing crop of the alpine west.
WESTCOAST TOUR - BUD BRONSON & THE GOOD TIMERS
In addition to photography, I play in a touring rock n' roll band in Denver. We recently finished a tour on the west coast where we hit 2 countries, 6 states and 18 shows in 25 days. It was an incredible journey. Four good friends crammed in a van going to city to city and "heading to the hills" every time we passed by something amazing. We had the pleasure of meeting so many amazing people and visiting friends along the way. I must say that the hole-in-the-wall Paseo Carribean restaurant in Seattle was the best sandwich I have ever had!
CANYONLANDS, UTAH - immersion in Stillwater
A group of friends and I decided to end our summer with triumph and beauty. We looked at the surrounding area of Moab, Utah, where the smoldering heat and red earth meet the largest veins of water in the continental west. We set our sights on the Stillwater section of the Green River. We would float 54 miles of still, silent water to the confluence where the “still” suddenly becomes “untamed” at the Colorado River. It was organized with countless emails chains, map research and phone calls to local outfitters. 12 friends, 6 canoes and 5 nights. Nothing sounded more appealing.
Our journey started northwest of the town of Moab where a van suited for desert crawling traversed its way down steep canyon walls to a secluded put-in along the Green. We packed our canoes and on our way we went, peering back to see that little white van vanish up the massive red desert walls in which we came. Over the next 6 days we would float by banks bordered by a prevalent tamarisk weed, towering walls stained by ancient water falls and the silence of nothing but the paddles on water.
With endless hours baking under the beaming sun the things that mattered most were conversations and the good company of good friends. The nights were spent discovering bare, sandy beaches. From there we would set up camp, cook and gaze upon the sun dipping beyond the walls. It was the silence at night and the access to the window to the stars that gave meaning to this sense of adventure; a group of vulnerable human beings feeling free in such an untamed landscape.