A Bowl of Boo
A ghost standing on top of the Highland Bowl on a beautiful fall day.
I held my own ghost photoshoot on top of the Highland Bowl during the fall.
This idea came to me about three days prior to it being executed. I wish it was more premeditated, but to be honest, it was the right amount of time for me to convince myself to do it without backing out. It started innocently by wanting to know what the massive golden aspen groves looked like during peak season lining the Maroon Creek valley leading up to the Maroon Bells. I pictured the photo in my head and it got stuck, and my idea was now no longer a choice. I had to do the hike. I asked for a wellness day at work (because this was for my well-being, obviously) and two days later I was climbing.
But if I’m going to put in all of this effort just for one view, one photo, what else could I do? Needless to say, my intrusive thoughts won, and I would now be hiking up with a sheet, a tripod, some sunglasses, and a lot more determination.
I had been wanting to take pictures as a sheet ghost for quite some time, but hadn’t put much thought into when or where. Then I thought, you know what people see less than a view from the top of the Highland Bowl during the fall? A view from the top of the bowl during the fall with a GHOST standing in frame. While I am not certain that no one has ever done this before, I am 100% certain that I was the only one who did a ghost photoshoot on top of the bowl on Sept 25th, 2024.
A ghost standing in front of the Maroon Bells.
While I do fully believe that sometimes we choose to do things just because we can, I don’t think my decision to hike that day was that simple. The decision was relatively impulsive and there was an aspect of “well, why not?” that convinced me to put in the largeish amount of effort this required. But reflecting during the 10 hours I was on the mountain and almost a month since doing the shoot, some other realizations had some time to float around in my head.
A ghost at the top of the Highland Bowl in Aspen, Colorado.
I wanted to do something that people don’t expect. I wanted to capture the feeling out of being out of place in a spot that is cherished and well known. I wanted to feel visible in a place that has made me feel small and invisible in the past. And I wanted to push my physical and creative boundaries in ways I hadn’t before. I have yet to hike the Highland Bowl in the winter. Being quite average at skiing while also choosing to live in a ski town sometimes makes me feel like an imposter, or more aptly, a ghost – invisible and lonely in a place that rewards the talented and athletic on snow, and not feeling like it’s something I have a place in. Sure, I can do this hike in the summer, that just takes some will power. But to hike it in the winter? To ski down in the winter? That takes a skill that I have yet to possess. But even if I did have the skill, would I then feel like I belong?
There’s some irony that I hope does not go unnoticed about describing feeling invisible and alone while standing on top of a mountain, and then proceeding to write about it, share it with the world, and have it stand out. I’ve always landed somewhere in the middle of wanting to hide in the background vs being the center of attention. I don’t mind either, to be honest. There are times for each, or in this particular instance, both - visibly invisible in a place that is coveted in the winter but less often explored in the summer.
Are these the best photos I’ve ever taken? No. Are they my favorite? Yeah.
A ghost, wondering why you are looking so intently.
A quick side story - As soon as I got to the top of the bowl, instead of celebrating I immediately saw smoke not even a few miles away. I couldn’t even process having hiked 5 hours for a couple photos and then not even getting to TAKE those photos but instead having to run for my life 4000 feet back down the mountain. I just about lost my mind. I tried not to panic, watched it for a bit, saw it wasn’t moving, and probably naively decided that I didn’t have to sprint away. It was hunting season, so I decided since it wasn’t moving, that it was a campfire. I later found out from a friend that it was in fact not a campfire but instead a small, but very real wildfire. Oops.
Not a campfire.
How ironic would it be if I hiked all the way to the top to do a ghost photoshoot to then BECOME a ghost? I couldn’t have planned it better, honestly. If that fire were to have moved quickly, there was no one around to yell for and probably no one to hear or help me. People knew I was hiking that day, but I would have vanished, without the photos, without these words, and without a story to tell.
Also - I managed to snag one bonus photo. Admittedly an afterthought, but well worth the 10 extra minutes spent on top of the mountain.
A ghost, captured by the Aspen Highlands Roundshot cam at 9:50 AM on September, 25th 2024.
-Madison