Milky Way Photo Outing at the Great Sand Dunes National Park
What do you do in the dark with your camera?
From the Sangre de Christo Mountains near Alamosa, Colorado, an ancient stream makes it’s way down to the valley floor…sometimes. One day the flat streambed is dry, the next day there is a small amount of water. My trip was in August and twice the stream was running in three days, otherwise it was dry. Most of the snowmelt is gone by early July. I’m guessing when water appears that it comes from an occasional rain in the mountains, an occasion that depends entirely on luck. Or does it? And this time luck smiled upon us. Or did it?
About 30 feet at its widest and 1/2–2 inches deep during this visit, rivulets of the stream separate and come together as the sand shifts under the running water. According to geologists, the ancient stream created the sand dunes at the Great Sand Dunes National Park (GSDNP), bringing down grains of sand that eroded from the rocky mountains above.
This trip with friends was the result of a dream that I had carried with me for about 8 years, since my first trip to GSDNP. Since then the park has been designated a Dark Sky Park and Preserve by the International Dark Sky Association, one of 14 Dark Sky Preserves in Colorado.
On this night, my friends Kate and Gary and I walked out to the stream, which runs to the east of the dunes, determined to see the Milky Way. We intended to try our hands at getting photographs of it, poised over the stream. Gary is an award-winning photographer and Kate, also a photographer, is our enthusiastic and tireless supporter. First we brought out our phones to check out our astronomical applications that predict the timing and the location of the Milky Way. Of course we discussed our approaches, lenses, settings, all the things that photo-nerds have to get straight in order to feel ready. Then we waited for the darkness. Just as predicted, the beauty made its show above the trees that line the edges of the stream.
Accenting the slight curve of the Milky Way, the light dome over Alamosa, Colorado, was reflected in the stream. A golden light, it highlighted the way the rivulets separate and come together again. I’ve always been grateful for small amounts of light pollution in my Milky Way photography. The ambient light gives dimension and scale to the photographs that you can’t get from the Milky Way alone. In fact, one Milky Way photographed all alone, looks pretty much the same as another Milky Way photographed alone. That’s why we all look for foreground elements, and for me, a little light pollution, even some small clouds are desirable.
Photographing the Milky Way with friends in the deep Colorado dark…how perfect is that?
