In September 2017, Margaret and I ventured deep into the far reaches of Kings Canyon National Park on a long and memorable backpacking trip. Before we left, I had studied the weather forecast and imagined a photograph I hoped to make on our second evening. Rain was expected during the afternoon, followed by clearing skies and, if all went well, a window of clear weather that would allow me to photograph the Milky Way above the Evolution Range.
During the blue hour after sunset, I made several photographs and carefully chose the exact spot where I wanted to place my camera later that evening. Then the rain returned in earnest. I packed away my gear and assumed the opportunity had passed.
Around 8:00 that night, I looked out of the tent and there it was—the Milky Way, exactly as I had hoped. I rushed outside, full of excitement, but by then the rain had turned to snow. In the darkness, I couldn't relocate the precise camera position I had chosen earlier. I managed to make a few exposures before the snow, cold, and weather finally drove me back into the tent. It was time to abandon the idea.
For years afterward, I lamented what I believed had been a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Looking back, I realized the problem wasn't the weather. My skills simply weren't yet equal to the image I had in my mind's eye.
I've always enjoyed photographing the Milky Way. Creating these images usually requires two or more exposures blended together to capture what I experienced in the field. If you've ever spent a few hours outside on a truly dark night, you know how remarkable your eyes become as they adjust. After a while, you can actually see into the darkness in ways that seem impossible when you first step outside.
Night photography requires a different set of skills—careful planning, focusing in the dark, and blending exposures during post-processing. Learning those techniques has been both challenging and rewarding, and I think continuing to learn is one of the things that keeps me feeling younger.
Some photographers consider blending multiple exposures to be "cheating." I see it differently. During the day, I usually strive to make a single exposure whenever possible. But at night, the camera simply cannot record the full range of light and detail that I experienced in one frame. Blending multiple exposures allows me to create an image that more closely reflects what I saw and felt while standing beneath the stars.
In 2021, I obtained another wilderness permit with every intention of returning to make the photograph. As I packed for the trip, it occurred to me to revisit my original files from 2017. My understanding of Lightroom and Photoshop had grown considerably over the intervening years. I've found that reviewing older images not only helps me avoid making duplicate photographs, but often reveals possibilities I couldn't recognize when I first processed them.
As I reviewed those files, I made an exciting discovery. One of my blue-hour foreground exposures contained all the detail I needed, and the Milky Way exposures I had made later that evening held the spectacular sky I remembered. Back in 2017, I understood that many Milky Way photographs combined multiple exposures, but I hadn't yet appreciated just how powerful that technique could be.
The biggest challenge was that I hadn't placed the camera in exactly the same position after dark, so blending the images required some careful work. Fortunately, over the next four years, I had developed the Photoshop skills to finally create the image I had envisioned all along.
In the end, I never returned to Evolution Basin. I canceled my wilderness permit, stayed home with Margaret, and completed the photograph that had lived in my imagination since that snowy night in 2017.
Sometimes the missing piece isn't another trip into the wilderness. Sometimes it's simply the experience and skills gained over time.
