Wandering into Astrophotography

Bodie Island Light Station
ISO 1250 @15s

I recently made my second attempt to practice astrophotography, specifically trying to capture the galactic center of the Milky Way. We can't capture the entire galaxy since we're also within it, but we can see the center at times.

My first attempt was near the summit of Mauna Kea on the Big Island of Hawaii earlier this year. I wrote about that experience in my Encountering the Extraordinary post. This second attempt was during a recent visit to the Cape Hatteras National Seashore along the Outer Banks of North Carolina.

Even though I'm just learning about this type of photography, I was able to get some images with which I am really pleased. With additional equipment and techniques, I could get even better results, but it's amazing what can be achieved with only a big sensor, a fast lens and a tripod. For this session, I used the Nikon D850 with a Nikkor 20mm f/1.8 lens.

The inclusion of the Bodie Island Lighthouse posed some challenges. Getting satisfying images required a bit of trial and error due to the bright light emanating from the lighthouse. I experimented with ISO values, exposure times, and also with timing the shots relative to the period of the lighthouse emissions.

Less Light from the Lighthouse
ISO 1000 @15s

Still Less Light from the Lighthouse
ISO 1000 @20s

Minimized Light from the Lighthouse
ISO 1250 @15s

The following two were taken farther away from the lighthouse, such that I could leave the shutter open longer without the light from the beacon blowing out the Milky Way. I also like the way the Milky Way aligns with the lighthouse in these, rather than alongside as it is in the others. The only real difference between these two is the application of light-painting of the foreground. In the second image, I used my headlamp to illuminate the boardwalk and surrounding grass briefly during part of the exposure.

 No Foreground Light-Painting
ISO 1000 @25s

Foreground Light-Painting
ISO 1000 @30s

So, a bit of a drive very early on a peaceful summer morning, about an hour of actual photography, a bunch of mosquito bites on my feet and ankles, and I came away with some satisfying images. Looking forward to the next time...

New Print Collections Available

Print collections are separate from the regular portfolio section of my web site in that I’ve printed the associated images to prove to myself that they meet my own quality standards. Of course, if anyone sees an image in the portfolio for which they would like a print, that is always a possibility. However, in general, the print collections represent those images I consider to be good enough to offer for sale in the sizes presented.

I’ve recently added two new print collections. Both contain images from my time spent on the Big Island of Hawaii in January and March of this year.

Big Island Sunrise Seascapes Collection

This is currently a two-image collection, but I’m working with one or more additional images which would also fit in this collection if they pass my quality bar.

I’ve recently had these two printed on 0.4mm cotton fine-art paper in 12”x18”, and the results are well beyond my expectations. (They’re available, ready to ship if you’re interested.)

Holēi Sea Arch Collection

This is a single-image collection, and given its aspect ratio, is only offered in 4 sizes.

This sea arch has a limited lifetime, as the erosive waves that created it continue to buffet the structure until, eventually, it will crumble into the sea. Then, all that will be left is images like this one to testify to its existence.

Capturing vs Experiencing

Lyman's Surf Break, Kona, HI

As I was recently editing some video from our month on the Big Island of Hawaii, I thought of all the experiences that I did not capture with video. It prompted me to consider the ever-present tension between my desire to capture an experience and the equally strong desire to fully engage in that experience.

As someone who likes to be an active participant in experiences, I am frequently faced with this rather complex dilemma. Do I bring the camera along? If so, which lenses should I take? And the tripod? Filters? Or, would I rather allow myself to fully experience whatever it is that I am about to do, unburdened by any of the concerns associated with capturing it?

The creator in me ALWAYS wants to bring the camera along because I never know when I’m going to encounter something unique, and of course I’ll want to capture and share it with others. However, the participant in me ALWAYS wants to enjoy the experience unencumbered by concern for camera gear or lighting or composition or shutter speeds, etc...

Capturing obviously entails the gathering and subsequent carrying of the necessary gear. Whether it’s simply a camera hanging from a strap around my neck or a full backpack of creative possibilities, the gear will make the activity at least a little less comfortable. Then, the concerns for the safety of whatever gear I’ve decided to bring along; Will the experience present the potential for damage or loss? If I lay the gear aside to momentarily engage with the experience, could someone steal it? If I'm with others, how will my decision impact their experience? These are some of the things I consider when choosing whether or not to capture an experience.

This inner imbroglio is magnified when others are involved in the experience. In these cases, there is a desire to share the experience with my companions. If I'm focused on capturing, then I'm not fully sharing the experience, especially with my tendency to hyper-focus. Perhaps less obviously, there is also a fear of detracting from the experience of others. Frequent stops along a hike, for instance, to grab a photo or video, swap lenses, dig out the drone and other such tasks can be annoying to companions who are not concerned with capturing the experience (though they typically appreciate having it captured after the fact). Even if this sense of detraction is only felt internally, the fear of it is nevertheless present for me.

So, I make the choices, even if I am uncertain that they are correct in the moment, and I try not to dwell in regret when those choices turn out to be less than ideal. Sometimes, I bring the gear and never take a single photo. Other times, I leave it all behind, and miss an opportunity to capture something special. In the end, as long as I'm alive, a missed opportunity is motivation to experience that thing again (if possible). I have to say that spending a month in a place drastically reduces the anxiety associated with these choices. Most of the time, when we're traveling, we're only experiencing a place one time before hurriedly moving on to the next in an attempt to squeeze it all in. That month spent on the Big Island of Hawaii afforded me the ability to revisit multiple places so I could actively experience them with others AND capture them without guilt. I think I would like to take this approach to travel more frequently in the future.

This photo from the surf break known as Lyman's in Kona was one location I visited multiple times. Some times, I went there to surf. Other times, like the time captured in this photo, I brought only my camera gear. For me, having had the participation experience there enhances the feeling I get when I view this photo. I would guess that no one thinks this particular photo is as beautiful as it is to me. This is something else I would like to repeat.

Am I the only one who struggles with this?

Encountering the Extraordinary

 

The galactic center of the Milky Way viewed from the Mauna Kea Visitor Station

What's the Story?

This solitary heliotrope tree caught my attention as I sauntered along the beach taking in the Kailua-Kona sunrise. Spending some time observing it stirred up a lot of questions:

How deep are its roots?

How much sand is there before the ground becomes solid lava rock?

Do the roots need to access fresh water or does it process salty water?

Had there been other trees here which were unable to endure as this one has?

It’s a simple tree. It is not famous. There are no placards testifying to its significance. It is mostly unremarkable, but it has a story, and I’ll never fully know that story, but I can infer some of it based on what I can observe.

A lot of us are like this tree. Mostly unremarkable, certainly so from a distance, and perhaps more so when we’re disconnected. However, we all have a story, and it’s worthwhile to acknowledge this fact, especially as we encounter others living from the experience of their particular stories. Considering this can inform how we choose to respond. Further, taking the time to learn others’ stories can reveal just how amazing people actually are, and sometimes give us the courage to move forward along the timeline of our own stories.

I’m thankful for having had the opportunity to spend some time with this tree. (The sunrise was pretty spectacular too.)

Introduction

This past year, I came upon a word I don't hear used much any more: saunter. While the etymology of this word is obscure, I like to believe a theory repeated by those such as John Muir and Henry David Thoreau is accurate, though I'm convinced it actually is not.

"Do you know the origin of that word 'saunter?' It's a beautiful word. Away back in the Middle Ages people used to go on pilgrimages to the Holy Land, and when people in the villages through which they passed asked where they were going, they would reply, "A la sainte terre,' 'To the Holy Land.' And so they became known as sainte-terre-ers or saunterers. Now these mountains are our Holy Land, and we ought to saunter through them reverently, not 'hike' through them." The Mountain Trail and its Message (1911)

Regardless of its origin, the meaning of this word is well understood today.

saunter /sôn′tər/

intransitive verb

1. To walk at a leisurely pace; stroll.

noun

1. A leisurely pace.
2. A leisurely walk or stroll.

The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, 5th Edition

I like this distinction between hiking and sauntering, and I would say I prefer to saunter through the wilderness/nature. Ask any reasonably good landscape/nature photographer how to improve one's photography, and among the list of tips, you'll likely find the advice to sit with a place for some time to identify a good composition. Sauntering allows time to sit with a place or places.

That brings me to the light portion of this blog's name, and it is two-fold.

First, as a photographer, I am always looking at light and its effect on my surrounding. Sometimes, even absent a proper subject, I am captivated by what the light is doing to my environment. Sauntering affords me more opportunity to notice the light and its impact. After all, photography is about light; Observing it and capturing it.

Second, this notion of sauntering with light brings to mind a related concept found in the Bible.

But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin.   (1 John 1:7)

for you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord; walk as children of light   (Ephsians 5:8)

As I live my life each day, spending some of that time observing the physical light around me, I'm also mindful to walk, albeit imperfectly, in the spiritual light of Jesus Christ; That is, the light of the world. For me, this fits nicely with the notion of pilgrimage associated with the aforementioned theory about the origin of the word saunter. While sauntering is leisurely, it seems less aimless to me than wandering. There is still purpose, a reason to move, but less urgency to get there. I've been learning to concern myself less with destinations and outcomes while focusing more on the journey. The journey is where we are tested, where we learn and where we grow. That's a topic for another post though.

This intention of this blog is to share my photography, thoughts and discoveries as I saunter with light.