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“Crepuscular” is one of my favorite words.
It describes animals that are active at dawn and dusk, when the world is remaking itself anew or shutting down for the day. But it’s also when meals are on the move, and predators are hungry. Photographers call those transition times the “golden hours,” for the way that the light saturates the landscape and everyone in it. That’s when memories are made, and snapshots are at their snappiest.
My own most spectacular sunset hike–also life-threatening, adding to the fun—came on a stony bump called Horsetooth Rock, in the northern foothills of the Colorado Rockies. As a newly minted westerner, I vowed to climb Horsetooth (5 miles round trip) every month of the year—a down-payment on a sense of belonging in this landscape. This minor peak has a major rocky outcrop on top, with expansive western views of the continental divide. Sunset heaven!
Honestly, by the time April came around, my Groundhog Day hike was getting a little stale. So I changed it up by tackling it at odd hours. Sunset, for instance. I remember that cooling sensation as the sky western sky blushed, and mountain shadows raced eastward. I was out of my comfort zone, with the light failing. So after the last sun-flash, I popped on my headlamp and hightailed it downhill. I felt jazzed by the glory of the skies. But I also remember an eerie feeling of being watched from the shadows.

Photographers love to talk about sunsets. It’s like a chef going on about arugula: A spicy go-to for everyday consumption. And that’s the beauty of a sunset hike—it’s not like you’re hunting a snow leopard. Sunset happens every damn day.
For suggestions, I connected with the nature writer and sundownologist Julia Clarke in Scotland, which she praises for its craggy western coast—perfect for rosy photos. Her favorite sunset spots—sing along with us here—are along the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond.
“The West Highland Way follows the eastern banks of Loch Lomond—one of the prettiest lakes on the planet in my opinion,” she says. “I was thru-hiking there and accidentally timed it so I was finishing that stretch as the sun set over the mountains on the western flank. It was so jaw-dropping I stopped for an evening dip in the loch. I ended up hiking to my accommodation in the dark—but it was totally worth it.”
Clarke is a big fan of shooting photographs over water to double down on reflections. She also recommends turning your back on your subject: “If you’re in a valley like Yosemite, don’t forget to turn around and capture the alpenglow, which can be even more beautiful than the sunset itself.”
Clarke lauds the U.S. National Park System as sunset central. She remembers a too-hot visit to Moab when she cooled off with a sunset hike: “Watching the setting sun turn Delicate Arch [3.2 miles round-trip] a burnished orange is something I’ll never forget.” She also loves the most iconic sunset spot in the country: The Rim trail overlooking the Grand Canyon (13 miles one way; you can catch a park shuttle back to the visitors’ center).
And it’s not just the canyon views she likes. “I appreciate that it’s so accessible—even wheelchair accessible—so almost anyone can have this transcendent experience in nature,” she says.
Next, I rang up Anna Papuga, a U.S.-born hiker and photographer newly relocated Down Under. She nostalgically recalls a spectacular sunset she witnessed at Channel Islands National Park, off the southern coast of California.
“We were backpacking all over Santa Cruz Island, photographing the cute foxes and such. But on our last night we decided to hike to the Potato Harbor Overlook, and it was just one of those nights.”
You know the twilight she is talking about: When the horizon is aflame, the clouds are sending Jesus vibes, and your skin prickles with astonishment. Time to pull out your camera, right?
She has plenty of tips how to capture your own highlight-reel sunset:
- Look for the contrasts. A pier extending out into the water. Surfers backlit by the setting sun. Rocks. Trees. Fog or even wildfire smoke. Papuga advises you to capture the light bouncing off something interesting, so it’s not just a yellow disk sliding from one blue field into another.
- Clouds are the whole point. They work like a photographer’s reflector, shining light back from a brilliant source and touching everything with magic. To plan her sunset excursions, Papuga consults ClearOutside, which predicts cloud cover for her destination. It will forecast low-, medium-, and high-level clouds for your beach or peak hike, so you’ll know whether it’s worth staying out after dark. But it’s impossible to predict with certainty, even with a helpful app. So Papuga also advises you to…
- Give yourself lots of options. This is the natural world, not the German train schedule. Leave room, and time, to be spontaneous. Chase the sun, and the images.
- Don’t stress. There will be another sunset tomorrow, with any luck.
My final sunset-hike advisor was Karthika Gupta, a Chicago-based photog who travels the world to capture striking images.
“I’ve been trained to seek out a narrative every time I shoot,” she told me. “It’s all about the context. Tell a story with your sunset photo. Give a sense of the vastness of the scene, but also where you are.” To do that, shoot with your tent in the foreground, or that herd of bighorns cresting the ridge, or your hiking mates as they too catch the glow.
Asked to name a favorite sunset-shoot location, she doesn’t hesitate: “Saguaro National Park. The cacti immediately tell the viewer where I took the shot, and they reflect the light beautifully, with great texture.”
The park website recommends the Tanque Verde Ridge Trail as an ideal spot to catch sunset on the Sonoran Desert. “Even if you can’t take a straight sunset shot,” says Gupta. “You can record the play of light and shadow, or an object on a curve. Explore all the dramatic angles.”
Gupta also recommends capturing those crepuscular animals during their most active times of the day. Recently she was hiking in the wilds of Utah late in the day and came across a herd of mustang frisking about in the slanting shadows.
Which reminds me: A couple of weeks after my sunset on Horsetooth, on the same trail I’d hiked, a juvenile mountain lion attacked a trail runner, also at twilight. The cat was obeying its crepuscular demand for dinner when a full meal jogged past him. The runner survived, the lion didn’t, and the principle stuck with me: Twilight has consequences.
Says Papuga: “I always bring two headlamps with me, in case the batteries quit.”
Makes sense: After sunset, it’s dark. Carry the afterglow within (and on your phone or camera), but be careful on the way out.
From 2025