Crescent Lake

Author's Comments

Most people drive past it. They are headed for Big Lake, which is the bigger sibling and the named destination, and Crescent slips by on an unpaved road that asks just enough of your suspension to discourage casual visitors. That is the whole point. I came here the first time by accident and have come back deliberately ever since. At nine thousand feet the air is thinner and the light is cleaner than anywhere else in Arizona I can think of. The lake bends in a shallow arc and the spruce come right down to the water, and on a still morning in late September the reflection is so complete that the seam between tree and water disappears entirely. The elk arrive at the edges before the sun is fully up. They are not performing for anyone. They drink, they graze, they move on, and if you are quiet and sitting still with a long lens you become part of the scene rather than an interruption to it. I prefer fall here. Summer is fine, and the meadows around the lake go properly green after the monsoon, but fall brings the aspen color into the surrounding hills and the mornings get cold enough to put mist on the surface. Golden hour at this elevation lasts longer than it does in the desert below. The light comes in low across the water and stays warm for a long time before the sun clears the ridge. Bring more layers than you think you need. Bring a thermos. The road in is rough and the reward is a place that still feels found rather than visited.

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