I’m amazed how some “night photographers” just don’t really care about night itself.
While exploring and hiking Capitol Reef National Park recently, I found myself escaping the sun by resting in the shade near the Visitor Center on a rather warm fall day. In reading a bit more about the geology of the park, I became really excited about the Cathedral Valley part of the park, an area I wasn’t expecting to explore this time around. It’s in a very remote desert landscape accessible only by miles and miles of obscure dirt roads, not exactly a place you end up at by accident. So, you would think visitors there would make the most of their visit to the area.
Intrigued, I made the impulsive decision to head out and check it out. I checked my gas tank. I had well over half of a tank. Was that enough to safely make it there and back? I didn’t know for sure, but why not try anyway? Why be on a road trip without the spirit of adventure? (“Adventure is out there!”)
With one of my favorite times of day being the transition from day to night, I intentionally opted to skip the dime-a-dozen shot of sunset on two prominent features in Cathedral Valley: the Temple of the Sun and the Temple of the Moon. Instead, I happily spent extra time exploring the unique geology on the way out there and arrived in time to capture the soft ambient light of the end of the day reflecting off the sandstone fins.
I pulled up to the Temple of the Moon just as sunset was ending and noticed another car there. On the other side of the large, eroded fin, I saw two other photographers wrapping up their shoot of sunset on the monolithic spire.
As I started capturing the soft light with Earth’s shadow rising in the east, I thought it odd that they simply went back to their car. I didn’t think much of it, but as time went on and the light continued to fade, they just stayed in their car, oblivious to the changing environment. Meanwhile, I was outside, in the fresh air, witnessing rapturous light in an extremely remote area of southern Utah. I began to hear owls hooting and other crepuscular animals creating all sorts of sounds. The air cooled off to a remarkably comfortable temperature. It wasn’t just the light making the transition from day to night, nature itself was involved in the whole process.
Then a door opened and was slammed shut. One of them retrieved an item from the back, slammed that door shut, then got back in the car, slamming a door a third time. It was quiet after that. Nothing made a sound and I never heard any of the natural sounds again that night. They must have fled elsewhere. If animals are bothered that much in such a remote location, where can they still be undisturbed?
After that, I concluded that they were just waiting for more stars to come out to start some night photography. I couldn’t help but think that they had completely missed the point of being there, especially if they were planning on night photography. Of course it still wasn’t quite dark enough yet for true night photography, but why wait? Why sit in the confines of your car, shut off from the natural world during such a unique time of day? Why come to a recently designated Dark Sky Park just to shut yourself away and completely miss the point of night itself? Watching the night sky overcome daylight gives you a better appreciation of the night sky. The experience lends itself to better night sky photography by giving you more context and respect for the subject.
Maybe they thought that since night photography is the latest trend, they should stick around after sunset since they were already there and get something at night so they’ll have a better chance of selling a photo. So, they simply sat there, waiting for that slow and mundane daylight to leave so they could hurry up and get on with their night shooting.
Of course, I don’t really know what possessed them to ignore the magical and surreal darkening of the day, one constellation after another answering to the Milky Way’s roll call before making its grand appearance. I do know one thing for sure about them though: they didn’t appreciate the night sky nearly as much as I did that night. They were there to fulfill an obligation, if only to themselves, while I was there to witness the most underappreciated time of day reveal an awe-inspiring natural treasure, dozens of miles away from disruptive artificial light. For me, photos of that experience were just icing on the cake. It’s being there that really puts the night sky into perspective. Otherwise you might just see the stars as a different backdrop than a daylight sky for a photo.
Once I left after getting a few good night shots, they finally got out of their car. How do I know? I stopped to do a few more shots at Temple of the Sun on my way out and saw that they had humongous flashlights to light both the Temple of the Moon and the Temple of the Sun, each separated by about a half-mile. Lighting both requires much more than just a headlamp or simple flashlight, and they were doing just that. Though I also used a light in one or two shots, it was a dim red light on my headlamp, thereby preserving my night vision. Since the rods in your eyes need at least 30 minutes to truly adjust to darkness, I’d bet that they saw a much less brilliant night sky than I did, even though they were just a half-mile away. They were simply using the night sky as alternative backdrop to daylight and not really getting a sense of night itself. Of course I’m not against light painting, I’m just against photographing something you don’t fully respect (like bears). I can only hope that there are others immersing themselves into night photography that actually understand why the night sky is important and don’t just see it as something to exploit.