Ode to Molas Lake, Colorado

An Intimate Portrait of My Happy Place in the San Juan Mountains

Note: If you're reading this in your email, it may be too long to display in full. To read the entire post, click the link to open it in your browser.

I’m writing this post during my annual camping pilgrimage to Molas Lake in Colorado, inspired by the beauty just outside the window of our camper—parked a mere 30 feet from the shoreline. This is the seventh season my wife and I have camped here, and over time it has become my all-time favorite place to stay.

This year, I was especially intentional about photographing the lake, the campground, and the surrounding area to create a more intimate portrait of this beloved place. Although I’ve taken photos here in previous years, all of the images in this post were captured during our five-night stay this season.

Nestled in an alpine mountain pass at over 10,500 feet, Molas Lake receives 250–300 inches of snow each winter. As a result, its brief camping season only runs from June 1 through the end of September. The lake is surrounded by numerous 13,000-foot peaks, and being here early in the season is a real treat, with snow still clinging to the mountains and making them even more spectacular.

This part of Colorado offers unparalleled scenery, summer wildflowers, diverse wildlife, historic towns to explore nearby, and dark night skies for stargazing. We camp right on the water’s edge alongside our two kayaks and enjoy hiking the nearby trails in the stunning San Juan Mountains. I also appreciate the lack of internet access at our campsite, which forces me to disconnect and be more present. When we’re away from camp, I briefly go online to check in, but for the most part, I remain offline for all five days.

Before we discovered Molas Lake, we often passed it during road trips—never realizing it was a campground. Once we found out we could actually stay here, we rented a camper trailer and immediately fell in love with spending multiple days immersed in nature here—hiking, kayaking, or simply being still. Since then, it has become my happy place and each year, my connection to it deepens.

We have a cherished morning routine: waking early, sipping coffee in our cozy camper while dawn light begins to reveal the landscape. Once it’s light enough, we push our kayaks onto the mirror-like water to enjoy the sunrise from the lake. Afterward, we return for breakfast and head out on a hike. None of this is rushed. These mornings offer a profound sense of presence and connection to the land around us.

This year, we arrived on opening day and were fortunate to enjoy a nearly empty campground for a couple of days. That quiet gave me a rare chance to wander and explore the campsites that are usually occupied. Each one offered its own unique and lovely view of the lake and surrounding mountains.

Rather than simply capturing the landscape, I chose to include a human element to reflect that this is a lived-in space during the summer. Picnic tables became my anchor in each photograph. The more empty campsites I visited, the more fascinated I became. I spent hours wandering the grounds, slipping into a state of flow, free from distraction, immersed in the quiet beauty all around me.

We experienced a variety of weather this year—sunshine, rain, and even one morning with a light dusting of snow. Each condition offered a unique way of experiencing the landscape. I love how the forest smells after the rain and the feeling of damp earth beneath my feet as I walk under the trees.

Because of the on-and-off rain, we mostly hiked closer to camp this year to avoid getting caught above treeline in a lightning storm. That gave me more chances to photograph the views from trails near the lake—adding more variety and intimacy to this portrait.

The trails surrounding the lake offer remarkable beauty. Around every bend seems to be another breathtaking view. The Colorado Trail passes right by Molas Lake, and we sometimes see through-hikers stopping for a break as they traverse the 483 miles between Denver and Durango.

One of the highlights for me each year is kayaking during dawn and dusk, when soft light falls across the water and mountains. Most mornings we see steam rising from the lake’s surface as the sun climbs over the ridge. In those moments, with our dog beside me in the kayak, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

Another delightful part of Molas Lake is a local woman from Silverton who arrives each morning with a single crew rowing boat on top of her car. She rows quietly across the lake in the early hours, before other boats appear on the water. Her daily dedication made me think she might be on a rowing team, but I’ve since learned she simply rows here every day because she loves it.

Spending time in nature is a vital meditative practice for me. It offers the mental space to slow down, detach from daily stress, and be truly present. Even though we only stay for five days each year, I always look forward to this trip with deep gratitude. As this year’s visit comes to a close, I’ll say goodbye for now.

Until next time, Molas Lake.