From Shadows of the Past: 5 Photos of Ghost Towns at Night

Fall has fallen upon the land, Halloween is upon us, and with it come ghosts from the shadows. Well, maybe. But in some shadows of the country we can certainly find ghost towns, which happen to be among night photographers’ favorite haunts.

Ghost towns certainly allure us, for many reasons: historical significance, yesteryear charm, their ethereal memories that linger in shadows. And of course, they just look really cool, especially when darkness falls.

Below, in celebration of Halloween week, we present five photographs of ghost towns and short stories about how we made them.

Bodie

by Lance Keimig

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Bodie, California. Canon 5D with a Nikon 28mm f/3.5 PC lens, lit with a Surefire 9P flashlight. 159 seconds, f/8, ISO 160.

A former gold rush town nestled in the unforgiving hills near the California-Nevada border, at its peak Bodie was home to over 10,000 residents. It was the archetypal western boomtown, replete with brothels and saloons, and with men dreaming of making it big and others intent on exploiting them. A legendary young girl’s diary found in the town stated, “Goodbye God, I’m going to Bodie.” Or was it, “Good, by God I’m going to Bodie”? We’re not really sure, but either sentiment could apply, depending on her disposition.

This light-painted image of the undertaker’s shop from 2008 was made with the lens pressed against a dirty window, and was lit with a Surefire incandescent flashlight from the left and right by shining the light through a window on one end of the building and through a door at the other.

Sadly, the table supporting the white coffin collapsed in an earthquake in 2020, and the contents of the building were badly damaged. The caretakers at Bodie have a policy of preserving what they can but not restoring structures that deteriorate or are damaged by natural causes, so I’m glad that I made this image when I had the chance.

Mojave

by Matt Hill

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Mojave National Preserve, California. Sony Alpha a7 III with a Zeiss Batis 18mm f/2.8 lens, lit with a Nanlite PavoTube 15C 2' LED tube. 13 seconds, f/2.8, ISO 3200.

I was lucky, and very grateful, to spend time with photographer and Night Photo Summit speaker Jess Santos in California’s Mojave National Preserve. In her Jeep, we visited some of her favorite off-map and abandoned places.

Mojave is a special, though not frequently visited, place. In fact, that it’s not more visited is surely part of what makes it so special. Mojave is also a light painter’s dream. It’s an old mining area, and still contains remnant machinery, abandoned houses, sandblasted cars and trucks and vans slowly disintegrating in the dry heat.

This well-preserved bus is jacked up level on the low end (pretty high in the air!), and it looks like it’s on a permanent adventure. I used a single light source to illuminate the bus during the 13-second exposure. I started farthest away from the camera, blasted the 2-foot LED tube light through the doors, then walked along the side with the light held high to illuminate the dark interior.

Combined with strong moonlight, the warm/cool blending of light sources created exactly the look I was going for.

Silver City

by Gabriel Biderman

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Silver City, California. Nikon D700 with a Zeiss Milvus 21mm f/2.8 ZF.2 lens, lit with a Coast flashlight. 4 minutes, f/5.6, ISO 400.

A lot of the ghost towns we visit are part of national parks or just outside of them and fairly easy to access. But many more are long forgotten and hidden from the public.

The year was 2011. I was on an epic road trip with fellow night photographers Joe Reifer and Night Photo Summit speaker Troy Paiva. We were right outside the vibrant “ghost town” of Virginia City, Nevada, when we found what looked to be the remains of an old silver mine in the satellite view of Google Maps. We drove over to investigate, but blocking the entrance was an impressive “No Trespassing” gate. 

While pondering our next move, we noticed a Willie Nelson-looking fella in a sawed-off Jeep driving quickly down the road with a dog barking and running alongside. 

We explained that we were night photographers, and fortunately Troy had one of his books to show that we were passionate about photographing Americana ruins. Somehow we won over the caretaker named Irish, and he invited us to spend two nights shooting the mines of Silver City.

My favorite shot from this wonderful experience is this slice of a corrugated bridge that was connected to the hoist house.

Grafton

by Tim Cooper

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Grafton, Utah. Nikon D700 with a Nikon 24mm f/2.8 lens, lit with a Coast HP5R flashlight. 1 minute, f/9, ISO 200.

Near Utah’s Zion National Park sits Grafton, one of the most photographed of the western ghost towns.

From an artistic standpoint, this image is kind of spooky. Exactly what I was going for.

From a technical standpoint, this image is about color unity. I wanted to create a cool color harmony, which would provoke that spooky feeling.

The landscape was being illuminated by a full moon. I set my white balance to 4000 K. Images made under a full moon can often look like they were shot in daylight, so lowering the white balance to 4000 K helps keep the impression of a night scene.

A setting of 4000 K renders my Coast HP5R only somewhat blue, but I wanted even more blue, to match the coolness of the ambient light. So I added a light blue gel to the front of the flashlight, which also helped to retain color harmony throughout the image.

Thurmond

by Chris Nicholson

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Thurmond, New River Gorge National Park, West Virginia. Nikon D5 with a Nikon 14-24mm f/2.8 lens. Two stacked exposures at 1 and 4 seconds, f/5.6, ISO 400.

The newest national park in the United States, New River Gorge in West Virginia, has some of the country’s oldest stuff, from one of the oldest rivers in the world to some great abandoned places, such as the ghost town of Thurmond.

A hundred years ago Thurmond was a booming mining town situated aside the New River. The area mines were so productive that Thurmond was reputed to be one of the most prosperous stops on the railroad with the richest banks in the state.

Today the mines are closed and the town is all but abandoned. But the railroad still runs through and the bank still stands aside it, as do 20 other dusty buildings, including the post office, coaling tower and train depot.

In this photo, a streetlight illuminates the old National Bank of Thurmond, as well as the tracks and a little surprise (ghostly?) visitor who wafted into the scene. Two exposures were required: one to control the bright lamp, and a second to record the details of the bank and railroad bed.

Your Turn

What ghost towns have you photographed at night? We’d love to see! Feel free to post your take on this shadowy genre in the comments, on our Facebook page or on Instagram (tag us @nationalparksatnight and/or hashtag us #nationalparksatnight).

Chris Nicholson is a partner and workshop leader with National Parks at Night, and author of Photographing National Parks (Sidelight Books, 2015). Learn more about national parks as photography destinations, subscribe to Chris' free e-newsletter, and more at www.PhotographingNationalParks.com.

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UPCOMING WORKSHOPS FROM NATIONAL PARKS AT NIGHT

10 Silver Linings: Our Favorite Night Photographs of 2020

If you were to wrap up everything that was 2020 into a single long-exposure frame, I’m confident it would be overexposed. (Too soon?)

But that’s not how we do it around here. We take our time. We are choosy. We are deliberate. We expose for the shadows, yet retain critical details in the highlights. We exercise the right to turn our tripod around 180 degrees and shoot the other way. Why? Because the next best shot is somewhere near the infinite focal point of our lives: night photography. 

Now we embark on the hardest quest of the year: to each choose only two frames to represent our favorite creative photographs from of 2020. Please enjoy the highlights from each of our agonizing selection processes. Keep in mind, we (mostly) love all of our photos. But these rose to the top.

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Chris Nicholson

Comet Neowise, Monhegan Island

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Comet Neowise, Monhegan Island, Maine. Nikon D5 with a Nikon 24-70mm f/2.8 lens. 5 seconds, f/2.8, ISO 25,600; 16 images stacked in Sequator.

One of the nice surprises of 2020 was Comet Neowise. It was a gift to anyone who had been longing to be outside under night skies again, especially photographers. It first appeared at night at the beginning of our July workshop in the Mid-Coast region of Maine, and it really started to shine during our subsequent workshop on Monhegan Island and in Acadia National Park.

It was on Monhegan that I made this image. Lance and I had been shooting on the island for two nights alone, then two nights with the group. On the last of those evenings, in the extra-late hours, I found myself alone on an extra-quiet trail along the rocky shore. I came upon this house and cottage, with the comet nestled quietly in between.

What I didn’t see through the dimly lit window was the perfectly framed head of someone sleeping on a pillow. That detail became apparent only when viewing the long exposure on my laptop display the next morning. Sometimes surprises make the image, and for me that was certainly the case here. Aesthetically I had liked the photograph before, but once I saw the sleeper, I loved it.

The open window and the sleeping would-be stargazer under the comet-adorned night sky all combine to tell the tale of what it felt like to be outside and at peace again.

Moon Over Mobius

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Moon over Mobius Arch, Alabama Hills National Scenic Area, California. Nikon D5 with an Irix 11mm f/4 lens, light painted with a Luxli Viola. 20 seconds, f/8, ISO 3200.

In October I was finally able to visit and photograph Alabama Hills—a place I’d seen many photographs of, as Lance, Tim and Gabe have shot there plenty.

Night photographers are of course drawn to rock formations, and Alabama Hills offers a nearly infinite supply of them. Perhaps the most famous, especially for photographers, is Mobius Arch. The day I photographed it was (and still is) the only day I’ve been there, but I was able to shoot it in amazing late-afternoon light, and later in serene moonlight. Yet those two opportunities were hours and hours apart.

I’d spent most of the evening helping workshop participants in other spots, ranging from right next to the cars in the parking lot (where folks were shooting star-panos of the mountain range that flanks the boulder-strewn landscape) to locations far and off the trail (where others were shooting star circles over that same landscape). Only at the end of the night did I return to Mobius, with the last two participants alongside. The three of us worked quietly together, each honed on our own ideas of how to interpret the scene.

I worked on this particular take for about 20 minutes. I already knew the exposure and the light painting approach from previous takes. The trick, though, was following the moon as it set behind Mobius, inching the tripod along the ground, keeping la luna framed right at the edge of the arch from one exposure to the next, until I finally captured what I was hoping for.

Gabriel Biderman

Utakleiv Beach, Lofoten

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Utakleiv Beach, Lofoten. Nikon Z 6 with a Nikon Z 14-30mm f/4 lens at 17mm. 8 seconds, f/4, ISO 12,800.

I feel very blessed to have gone to such a special place as Norway prior to the world turning upside down.

Lofoten was an epic experience, but our nights were tricky. Clouds and snow were our constant companions. We kept an eye on the weather and the Kp index to try to predict our best chance at capturing the northern lights.

Finally we saw a good report. The forecast for the elusive aurora opening was going to be from 8 to 9 p.m.—a narrow window before the clouds would roll back in.

We knew the perfect place to go: Uttakleiv Beach. We had spent a day at Uttakleiv earlier in the trip, so we were familiar with the terrain. It has seaside mountains to give scale and water to reflect the night sky.

I’ve never seen a weather forecast be so on point. When we arrived, the overcast skies made the situation seem like a bust. But at 8:00 on the dot, the skies cleared and the magical green lights started their dance. For most of our group, this was the first time witnessing auroras, but to be honest, even for the experienced, this night was pretty special.

For one hour we danced with the northern lights, aiming our cameras as the auroras moved along the purple skies. It was truly magical. And it lasted, as predicted, for one hour. For all of us who shared a night under the northern lights, we’ll carry the experience forever.

Summit Bridge, Red Hook

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Summit Bridge, Red Hook. Mamiya 7 with a Mamiya 65mm f/4 lens. 30 seconds, f/8, ISO 100 (Fujifilm Acros II).

Upon returning from Norway, my “adventures” consisted of my apartment in Brooklyn and the surrounding areas. As frustrating as it was not to be under the stars of our national parks, I fell back in love with my “backyard” and film.

I live in Carroll Gardens in Brooklyn. It is a quaint neighborhood where everyone is proud of their front garden. I battled my stir craziness during the pandemic by taking night walks in the neighborhood. I dusted off one of my favorite film cameras—my medium format Mamiya 7—and got back to the basics of shooting film. Brighter urban lights make film exposures fairly easy to determine. 2020 also welcomed the return of Fujifilm’s Acros 100 (now II), which has the least reciprocity of any film on the market and makes long exposure film shots relatively easy.

My walks would often lead me to neighboring Red Hook, which features a mixture of industrial buildings, wharfs, cobblestone streets and old-school residential homes.

Summit Bridge, a small bridge that takes pedestrians up and over the Brooklyn Queens Expressway, unites our two neighborhoods. I’ve walked over it a thousand times, but this time all the elements of the scene clicked for me. I saw lines leading up to the beacon of light. Heck, there were lines galore! The lines of the steps connected with the lines of the rails, which intersected with the lines of the spear-headed fence, and the light reflecting on the brick building also leads the eye to the fence, which all leads back to the focal-point light.

I shot this just two weeks ago. The image is a perfect bookend for a year that started in a distant archipelago and ended very close to home.

Lance Keimig

Portland, Oregon

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Portland, Oregon. Nikon D780 with a PC-E Nikkor 28mm f/3.5 lens. 8 seconds, f/8, ISO 100.

Probably like most people, 2020 was not my most productive year, photographically or otherwise. All in all, I count myself lucky though. We managed to hold a few workshops, stay healthy, and fill most of our 2021 workshops and tours. The at-home stress test with my partner Katherine only brought us closer together, despite both of us dealing with ongoing family crises. I’m coming out of this horrible year in better shape than a lot of people, and am grateful for it. Creatively, the year is a write-off, and that’s OK, all things considered.

Katherine and I went to Portland, Oregan, to help celebrate a friend’s birthday in late February, just as the COVID-19 scare was beginning. While there we got together with another old friend who took us out night-shooting in an industrial area that just happened to be near a brewery that Gabe said Katherine and I had to visit. (We did.)

One of the things I came to realize in this truncated year was that I really miss urban night photography. It’s where I started, and I plan to get back to it in a big way when COVID subsides.

This image might not have a lot of appeal to most people, but I love the simplicity of it. The repeating shapes, the backlighting, the shadows, the minimal colors. It’s the kind of image I used to make all of the time, and want to make again. I guess that I also like it because it represents the last moments of freedom before we were all overwhelmed by the pandemic.

Acadia National Park

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Eagle Lake panorama, Acadia National Park, Maine. Nikon D750 with a Sigma 24mm f/1.4 Art lens. Five stitched images shot at 15 seconds, f/2, ISO 6400.

Chris and I were joking that I’d be submitting Comet Neowise images as obvious favorites, because that’s pretty much the last time I took a night photograph. I do have a couple of decent comet photos, but it was this pano of Eagle Lake in Acadia National Park (made during the comet’s peak) that I chose to share here. Many of you know that Acadia is one of Chris’ favorite parks, and I was very happy to have been able to spend some time with him there this summer as part of the two back-to-back workshops we somehow managed to pull off in Maine in July.

I’m generally not a landscape photographer, nor a big Milky Way shooter, but this was such a gorgeous scene, and such a peaceful place to be in such a calamitous time, that the memories of being there that this image brings back make it my second pick for my favorite images of the year.

I’m thinking now how snapshots to the non-photographer serve mainly as memory triggers to take one back to a time and place from the past. I guess the same can be true for professional photographers too, as that’s what this image does for me. It’s a bookmark in time, in this case for a brief reprieve from the nonstop barrage of bad news that was 2020. But—this year is coming to an end, and if we are diligent, and a bit lucky, as we round the corner into 2021, things will start to brighten, and new opportunities will await. I’m ready for them.

Matt Hill

Lance on the Racetrack

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Lance Keimig on Racetrack Playa, Death Valley National Park. Nikon Z 6 with a Venus Optics Laowa 15mm f/2 FE Zero-D lens. 20 seconds, f/5.6, ISO 1600.

If I could sum up 2020 with one image, it would be this pensive portrait of Lance on Racetrack Playa in Death Valley National Park.

That workshop seemed to be foreshadowing the year ahead of us. We were plagued with adversities. From sand storms to power outages to a scarcity of fresh food, only tenacity on everyone’s part brought us to a successful end. This included our alumni, the workshop leaders and the surprise guests (Gabe and Tim).

My consideration of this image includes the crisp starry sky, the crusty playa and the soft memory of where Lance lingered, considering what occupied his attention at that moment. In the distance you can see other people forming their own relationship with the night sky. Plus, the sign of perhaps other strangers arriving or departing in the car trail on the far side.

2020 will hopefully fade into insubstantiality as this instance of Lance’s pondering did. But hopefully the tenacity and lessons we bring with us will have a more permanent home in our decision-making process.

It’s my wish that we will employ more empathy. Take a little more time to consider the perspective that distance from “normal” offers. And to take the hope one can find in this and apply it to making the things we find important thrive.

Molly Diptych

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Diptych of Molly on the Hudson River. Nikon Z 6 with a Venus Optics Laowa 15mm f/2 FE Zero-D lens, lit with a LumoPro LP180 speedlight and a Nanlite Pavotube II 6C. Left: 10 seconds, f/4, ISO 3200; right: 6 seconds, f/3.5, ISO 100.

If you could truly render your perception of another being into a descriptive portrait, how would you approach executing it? I ask myself this before many portrait shoots.

This particular diptych of night portraits was the culmination of something I hold very dear: the opportunity to collaborate with other creative people. Such as the subject of these portraits and the team around this shoot.

Molly, who posed for these, has layers upon layers of truths she finds crucial and things about the world she works tirelessly to improve. From social justice to art, her strength of character and determination were elements I wanted to preserve and to enhance.

Being a fellow artist and photographer, Molly was able to offer contributions that went beyond posing in front of the camera. Her willingness to collaborate, with clear ideas on how she wanted to pose, and her willingness to stand in the murky Hudson River on a warm July night all yielded a rich session with many images I love.

For a few years we were promising to make some art together. And this was really one of the first few chances. I’m happy. And I believe the diptych of Night Paper on the left and a light painting night portrait on the right speak to each other.

The best ideas really require getting other people involved to render the vision. The other people I want to thank are Kelly Mena for producing the video shoot preceding the Night Paper shoot, and my wife Mabel for being my stalwart creative support on the video and portrait shoots. And for that matter, practically everything else.

For me, 2020 will always be a time of exploring the realities and concepts behind isolation, safety and security. This portrait pair is one glimpse into a topic I want to explore even more.

Tim Cooper

Steam at Excelsior Geyser

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Steam at Excelsior Geyser, Yellowstone National Park. Nikon Z 6 with a Nikon 14-24mm f/2.8 lens at 20mm. Two blended images shot at 6 seconds, f/2.8, ISO 1600 (foreground) and 15 seconds, f/2.8, ISO 6400 (background).

During our Yellowstone National Park workshop in September, Chris and I brought the group to one of the largest and best-known thermal features in the park: Grand Prismatic Springs. It’s known almost exclusively for the glowing oranges and yellows of the algae and bacteria mats that surround the deeper blues of the spring. But even there, there’s much more than just one shot. And sometimes that other take can be the hero image.

While walking the location, I noticed a car coming down the road backlighting the profuse steam generated by nearby Excelsior Geyser. The play of light and shadow through the steam was simply fantastic. I knew I had to somehow capture it by the end of the night.

By the time the group left, the shot was much more challenging to make. When I exposed for the steam and car lights, the sky rendered pitch black. On the other hand, exposing for the sky overexposed the steam. This situation called for two different exposures at different times.

For the image of the sky, I waited for a break in the steam and exposed to capture Jupiter and the stars. For the next image I had to wait for an oncoming car to backlight the steam—which by that time of night took awhile. After several attempts I finally made the images I would use to create the final composite.

The backlit moving steam and the tree and mountain silhouette came together to create an ethereal image that, for me, perfectly captured the mood of the scene.

Colorado Silky Way

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Silky Way over Last Dollar Road, Colorado. Nikon Z 6 with a Nikon 50mm f/1.8 lens. Two blended images shot at 2 minutes, f/2.8, ISO 320 (foreground) and 8 minutes, f/2.8 ISO 160 (background).

The San Juan Mountains of western Colorado is one of my favorite places in the world. I’ve been running workshops there every year since 1995, and I never tire of the area or the scenery. When I am there, I am inspired.

I made this image during our workshop in October, at the end of our traverse over Last Dollar Road, one of the lower mountain passes in the area. Chris and I had chosen this location as a spot where we could photograph both the sunset and, later, the Milky Way. After an awe-inspiring drive, we arrived just in time to time to frame up some shots of the sunset and then plan our blue hour compositions. Once these were made, we left our cameras set up and waited for the end of astronomical twilight. The skies were perfectly clear and every participant made great images of the galactic core.

Upon arrival, I had envisioned my final shot as a tack-sharp image of the core, but after experimenting with shutter speeds, I decided on an 8-minute exposure instead. Eight minutes of exposure is generally too short to create desirable trails when using a wide angle lens, but with the longer focal length of 50mm the trails are perfect. The narrow view of this lens also compressed the foreground and magnified the core to create the look that some call the “Silky Way.”

Your Turn

So there you go—from Maine to California, and even to Norway, and from a plethora of places in between—our favorite photographs from 2020.

Now we’d like to see yours! Please share your favorite night image from the past year, either in the comments below, on our Facebook page, or on Instagram (tag @nationalparksatnight). And then let’s all march forward together into 2021, when we’ll find new nights and new inspiration.

Matt Hill is a partner and workshop leader with National Parks at Night. See more about his photography, art, workshops and writing at MattHillArt.com. Follow Matt on Twitter Instagram Facebook.

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UPCOMING WORKSHOPS FROM NATIONAL PARKS AT NIGHT

Loving Luna: A Photo Essay Celebration of the Halloween Blue Moon

Over 600 full moons have pulled at me during my lifetime. The moon has not only guided me, but has provided balance to our planet and instructed timekeepers since, well, the dawn of time. It is the second brightest celestial object after the sun, and is Earth’s own private and natural satellite.

Most night photographers object to the brightness of the moon—a veritable star eater that streaks across the sky and blows out the details of the Milky Way. Many night photographers prefer to stay inside than to be out under soft moonlight.

But just as the moon brought wonder and awe to our ancient ancestors, it can bring just as much wonder to our photographs—not to mention the superwonder that even modern humans have been gifted from supermoons, blood moons and eclipses.

Along those same lines, today we experience a blue moon—on Halloween, no less!

Of course, any full moon that falls on Halloween would be a blue moon, but that doesn’t mean it’s common. The last time the two events coincided was 1944, and the next will be 2039.

To honor this event, all five National Parks at Night instructors got together to share images of when they lassoed the moon. We hope this inspires you to get out tonight (after trick-or-treating, of course) to bring back some inspired images!

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Matt Hill

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The Headless Horseman, Sleep Hollow Cemetery. Nikon Z 6 with a Venus Optics Laowa 15mm f/2 FE Zero-D lens. 4 seconds f/5.6, ISO 800.

Jim Logan invited me to photograph the Headless Horseman in Sleepy Hollow Cemetery in early October. This wasn’t the first time—it’s nearly an annual tradition that I enjoy very much. Each time I challenge myself to light it differently, and this year we were extra lucky to have clear skies (very unusual!) plus the conjunction of Mars and the moon (what luck!). 

After consulting PhotoPills, we set up where the moon would rise. I brought along five Nanlite PavoTubes and lit a scene that covered a large area, as the horse sometimes wanders. 

I used my wireless Phottix Aion remote intervalometer to trigger my camera, and walked around with a CTO-gelled speedlite to highlight the horse and rider. The final touch was inserting a Nanlite Pavotube 6C 10" tube light into the pumpkin to illuminate it from within. 

Fortune smiled upon us! The moon rose, the planets and satellite aligned, and this magic moment unfolded in front of my camera.

Lance Keimig

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Mesquite Sand Dunes, Death Valley National Park. Nikon D750 with a Nikon 14-24mm f/2.8 lens. 30 seconds, f/8, ISO 400.

Experiencing sunset followed by the slow fade into darkness along with the full moonrise in the sand dunes of Death Valley is unforgettable. Death Valley is one of my favorite parks, and I think moonrise in the sand dunes is one of the very best parts of any visit to the park.

After walking about a mile from the road to get into the dunes and then cresting over the first ridge, it feels as if the dunes go on forever and that I am alone in the universe. That sensation can be at times both calming and exhilarating. The landscape is vast, but also intimate. It can be challenging to photograph––especially if one is trying to accurately record the essence of the experience.

On this particular night, I allowed myself to get lost in the experience, and hadn’t set up a shot for when the moon rose over the horizon. As a result, I wasn’t ready when it happened. The best light lasts only a few minutes, and it was rapidly slipping away from me. 

Full Stop. Breathe. Be present in the moment. Any pressure I feel is self-imposed. I stopped dead in my tracks, realizing that I had been hurrying to find “The Shot” when the reality was there was no one image to be made. The images were all around me and I had to choose.

Backlighting by the moon with soft light scraping across the surface of the dunes was the common element to every image I saw. I composed, planning in the field to later crop to panoramic proportions. I decided to let the moon blow out, and exposed to keep some detail in the darkest areas in the sand. In the end, it was a straightforward shot, but captured the sensation of being there, alone, in the moonlight.

Tim Cooper

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Moon over Trona Pinnacles National Natural Landmark. Nikon Z 6 with a Nikon 14-24mm f/2.8 lens, light painted with a Luxli Viola. 20 seconds, f/5.6, ISO 1600.

For many night enthusiasts, if the night doesn’t have a Milky Way, it isn’t a night to photograph. I love night photography. Any night. Any time of the month.  I enjoy the challenge of making images under various conditions. And one of my favorite challenges is shooting under the full moon.

Moonlit landscapes provide limitless possibilities. I can use the moonlight as the key (main) light, which renders the scene as a near duplicate of a daytime image, or I can use it to simply fill in the shadows of my favorite light painting scheme. I can draw out texture or emphasize shape in the foreground, or I can shoot directly into the moon and use it as backlight.

One of my favorite techniques mimics the popular sunburst technique used in daylight photography. On a clear moonlit night, I simply point my camera directly into the moon and stop down to f/5.6 or f/8. The smaller aperture renders the moon as a moonburst. Shutter speeds under these conditions can still be short enough to render star points, and a decent exposure can be made at lower ISOs, keeping high exposure noise to a minimum.

Chris Nicholson

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Lathe Arch and Mount Whitney, Alabama Hills National Scenic Area. Nikon D5 with an Irix 11mm f/4 lens. 30 seconds, f/11, ISO 3200.

I love shooting the moon, so it’s hard to pick just one moon image. So rather than spending an inappropriate amount of time searching through my images (OK, I admit—after spending an inappropriate amount of time searching through my images), I decided to show a photograph I made just this past week.

This actually started as a challenge from Lance. I was in Alabama Hills National Scenic Area in California with Tim and our workshop group, and Lance told me to see if I could get a photo of Lathe Arch with Mount Whitney in the background. He was setting me up, for sure. The arch is small—about two feet high—and photographing it from said angle requires wedging yourself into a steep crevice in the rock.

I guess I kind of cheated. I used an Irix 11mm f/4—a superwide but rectilinear lens that allowed me to set up superclose to the arch, so that I could use horizontal rather than flat rock to balance my tripod. Still, it wasn’t easy—the tripod legs were flat to the ground, two of them spreading precariously close to creeping into the frame, and the third extending precariously over the edge of the crevice.

Of course, there was light painting too, and that required some calisthenics to jump up and down and over rocks so that I could work in foreground light, as well as background light from two angles, in a short enough exposure to keep the moon from trailing into an oval. This is why I wear good trail shoes when shooting.

And hey, I got the shot! With the moon. Thanks to a challenge from a friend.

Gabe Biderman

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Supermoon and bridges in New York City. Nikon D750 with a Tamron 150-600mm f/5-6.3 lens. 1/2 second, f/11, ISO 400.

I began my official supermoon chase in earnest in 2016. Everything aligned perfectly on November 14, which would feature the biggest supermoon since 1948. The moon would rise at 5:14 p.m., but as much as I love New York City, there isn’t much of a horizon line here. I used PhotoPills to find the best spot, which I determined to be on the southern shores of the East River, at Pier 17, where views of the Brooklyn, Manhattan and Williamsburg bridges align.

As the day of the moon event drew near, I chose to share the experience as a National Parks at Night photo walk with B&H Photo. Our friends from Tamron brought a couple of 150-600mm lenses in Nikon and Canon mounts, which we set up on Wimberley Gimbal heads so people could easily track the moon.

The biggest challenge was the cloudy sky. The moon rose, but we couldn’t make out anything against the cityscape. Then one hour later the moon found an opening in the clouds and peeked out for exactly two minutes.

I was able to make eight exposures during that time, ranging from 1/4 second to 6 seconds. The 1/2-second exposure ended up being my favorite, as it revealed detail in the moon as well as the surrounding clouds. The moon is as big as the arch of the Williamsburg Bridge, and I love the abstract layers of the beams of the Brooklyn and Manhattan bridges. 

It was a thrilling two minutes. I loved pre-visualizing and then waiting for that moment. I imagine this might be close to what wildlife photographers feel when they are hidden quietly in the brush and waiting for perfection to happen. I got my supermoon.

Wrapping Up

Have you shot the moon? We’d love to see your images. Feel free to share in the comments, on our Facebook page or by tagging @nationalparksatnight on Instagram!

Gabriel Biderman is a partner and workshop leader with National Parks at Night. He is a Brooklyn-based fine art and travel photographer, and author of Night Photography: From Snapshots to Great Shots (Peachpit, 2014). During the daytime hours you'll often find Gabe at one of many photo events around the world working for B&H Photo’s road marketing team. See his portfolio and workshop lineup at www.ruinism.com.

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UPCOMING WORKSHOPS FROM NATIONAL PARKS AT NIGHT

Nights of the Comet: Our Photos and Experiences with NEOWISE

Night photography isn’t just our livelihood—it’s also our passion, and our art. As much as we love to teach, we also love to venture into the field and shoot, especially when something special is happening in the sky. Comet NEOWISE certainly met the standard of “something special.”

So a couple of weeks ago, when the comet began appearing among the stars, we knew we wanted to get out to make some photos of it. Lance and I were heading to coastal Maine to run back-to-back moonless workshops. Matt was at home in the beautiful Catskill Mountains of New York. All three of us were in perfect places at perfect times.

NEOWISE is now fading from view, but won’t be fading from memories. Below you’ll find some of the images we created.

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Lance

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A single exposure of Comet NEOWISE and the Monhegan Lighthouse made by covering and uncovering the lens for 3-second intervals. The slowly rotating light has six beams and makes a full rotation once every minute and a half. I first worked on this technique last year during our Cape Cod workshop while photographing Nauset Light in Eastham, Massachusetts. Nauset Light’s beam rotates much faster, and required covering and uncovering the lens a couple of times per second. Chris figured out that 3-second intervals worked well for this one, and I got lucky with this shot by using his timing. · Nikon D750 with a Tamron 15-30mm f/2.8 lens at 20mm. 25 seconds, f/3.2, ISO 6400.

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A dory and the back of the keeper’s house at Monhegan Lighthouse, with Comet NEOWISE between the roof peaks. This is a composite of two exposures––one for the sky and a second longer exposure for the foreground. A smaller aperture was needed for depth of field, which necessitated the higher ISO for the sky shot and a longer exposure for the foreground. This type of subject matter is exactly the kind of thing that I love to shoot, and I would have made the same composition even without the comet. Bonus! · Nikon D750 with a Nikon 24-120mm f/4 lens at 44mm. Sky shot at 10 seconds, f/4.5, ISO 12,800; foreground shot at 70 seconds, f/4.5, ISO 6400.

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Jordan Pond and the famous Bubbles of Acadia National Park, with the comet in the northwestern sky. A composite of different exposures for the foreground and sky. I generally like to get everything in one frame, but the short shutter speeds required to keep the stars and comet sharp combined with the need to stop down for depth of field made this image virtually impossible without compositing. I partially desaturated and added a fair amount of contrast, both to make the image bolder and to minimize any noise issues from the high ISOs. · Nikon D750 with a Tamron 15-30mm f/2.8 lens at 17mm. Sky shot at 25 seconds, f/4, ISO 6400; foreground shot at 270 seconds, f/4, ISO 6400.

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Matt

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It’s been really cloudy here in the Catskills, and when I finally had a clear night, it was cloudy at the horizon. So I really did not get a crack at NEOWISE until the night of the new moon on July 20. I started with my 15mm lens and shot single images. At first I was surprised and a little unhappy about the light pollution—but then I reminded myself that with the new moon everything would have been dark, and the light pollution illuminated the valley below and gave context to the image. · Nikon Z 6 with a Venus Optics Laowa 15mm f/2 FE Zero-D lens. 15 seconds, f/2.8, ISO 6400.

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When I saw the massive galactic core behind me over the mountain, I wanted to shoot for a Milky Way arch with the comet. With 13 images and a really aggressive tilt upward, I was totally surprised the stitch worked. I usually shoot dead level. And I think the S-curve of the mountain to the valley along the bottom works well. I also love the comet arcing in the same curve as the Milky Way. All in all, I was happy with the one night of shooting. Alas, it’s been cloudy ever since! · Nikon Z 6 with a Venus Optics Laowa 15mm f/2 FE Zero-D lens. 13 stitched frames shot at 20 seconds, f/2.8, ISO 6400.

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Chris

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This was my first real chance to focus on photographing the comet. I’d seen it a few times in the nights prior, but had been focused on helping workshop participants so didn’t shoot anything more than a snapshot. But on this night it was just Lance and I out working together at the Monhegan Island Lighthouse in Maine. The evening started off foggy, and the comet wasn’t even on our radar. But suddenly the northern and western skies cleared (that kind of thing can happen in New England), and there it was! I framed the comet between the fog bell and the keeper’s quarters; I light painted the former, and the lighthouse painted the latter. · Nikon D5 with a Nikon 14-24mm f/2.8 lens, light painted with a Luxli Viola. 25 seconds, f/3.5, ISO 6400.

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I’d spotted this scene earlier in the evening, and came back to it as my last stop of the night—once the comet had set low enough. I saw it as a black and white image from conception, partly because the color temperatures were different on the horizon and in the window, and partly because it just felt like an old-time black and white scene. What I didn’t realize, even in the dark, was that the long exposure would reveal in the window someone’s head on the pillow. Why were they sleeping through the comet? · Nikon D5 with a Nikon 24-70mm f/2.8 lens. 16 frames shot at 5 seconds, f/2.8, ISO 25,600, stacked in Sequator.

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For a week I knew I wanted to photograph the comet over Jordan Pond in Acadia National Park—one of my happy places. When we got there, the night was perfectly clear, and I got my chance for this pano. · Nikon D5 with a Nikon 24-70mm f/2.8 lens. Six stitched frames shot at 15 seconds, f/2.8, ISO 6400.

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My favorite images I’ve seen of the comet are those that incorporate it into a landscape or a wider scene, so that’s mostly what I tried to work on. But I wanted to make just one portrait of NEOWISE. I did so from the northwest shores of Monhegan Island. I liked the blend of colors from the horizon into the deeper blue of the night sky, as well as the deep blues of the Atlantic below—so that became my backdrop for NEOWISE. · Nikon D5 with a Nikon 24-70mm f/2.8 lens. 32 frames shot at 5 seconds, f/2.8, ISO 25600, stacked in Sequator.

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Wrapping Up

Now that we’ve shown you our images, we’d love to see yours! Please share your comet photos and stories in the comments or on our Facebook page, or post them on Instagram and tag @nationalparksatnight. Or all three!

Chris Nicholson is a partner and workshop leader with National Parks at Night, and author of Photographing National Parks (Sidelight Books, 2015). Learn more about national parks as photography destinations, subscribe to Chris' free e-newsletter, and more at www.PhotographingNationalParks.com.

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UPCOMING WORKSHOPS FROM NATIONAL PARKS AT NIGHT

Two From the Road: Our Favorite National Park Night Photographs of 2019

Here we are again, at the end of a year, when nature dictates to our psyches that we examine all that we’ve done in the 364 days prior. And that, of course, includes everything we’ve done with cameras under dark skies.

We at National Parks at Night have accepted this annual self-assignment—for the five of us to examine the work we’ve done in the past year and each choose our favorite two photographs. The reasons for our choices vary. Some are favorites because of overcoming a technical obstacle, some for making a new technique work, some for exploring a new place, some for the experience and the memory.

Whatever the reason for these images making our cut, all have two things in common:

1. Each of these ten photographs are from units of the National Park Service—our homes away from home, and some of the very best places in the world to practice night photography.

2. We enjoyed making all of these photographs, and we enjoy recalling the stories of how they came to be. Enjoyment, of course, is the best goal for photography all around.

So here we go. The ten images that we most enjoyed making in 2019 …

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Gabriel Biderman

Lassen Volcanic National Park

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Cinder Cone and Milky Way, Lassen Volcanic National Park. Nikon Z 6 with Nikon 14-24mm f/2.8 lens. Twilight foreground: 15 seconds, f/2.8, ISO 100; Night sky: 25 seconds, f/2.8, ISO 6400.

My favorite photo of the year is from our Lassen Volcanic National Park workshop, at the Cinder Cone volcano. Lassen Volcanic, in California, is a true gem, as well as an under-visited national park.

All four types of volcanoes are featured in Lassen, and they make for great foregrounds against the incredibly starry skies. Cinder Cone is one of the best for photography, though it takes some work to get to, as it sits in the more remote northeast corner of the park and requires a 2-mile one-way hike with an elevation gain of 846 feet over the last .8 miles up the side of the loose-rock volcano.

We started the hike in the afternoon so that we could get to the top before sunset. Halfway up we took a break, and I loved the visual of the trail carving up the side of the volcano. I checked PhotoPills and was ecstatic to see that later the core of the Milky Way would be rising right above the summit. That night was dedicated to shooting along the rim, but the next evening I revisited the trail for this composition.

I set up the camera and tripod low to the ground so I could make the path appear larger in the composition. The idea was to take two shots and blend them together, which was the only way to get the rich detail of the cinder fragments balanced with a good exposure of the stars. I shot one image that yielded the foreground detail (but a blown-out sky) and another image 45 minutes later that yielded a great Milky Way (but a silhouetted foreground).  In post-production this was a fairly easy image to blend.

Now to make some room on my wall for the print!

Cape Hatteras National Seashore

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Space X, Cape Hatteras National Seashore. Nikon Z 6 with a Nikon 28mm f/1.4 lens. 10 seconds, f/2.8, ISO 12800.

My other favorite image was more spontaneous, and also happened on a workshop—this time at Ocracoke Beach in North Carolina’s Outer Banks. This workshop was incredibly fun, with the overriding theme of photographing lighthouses at night.

We took the morning car ferry to Ocracoke, which is mostly contained within the boundaries of Cape Hatteras National Seashore. We spent the afternoon exploring the village, and we of course got our passports stamped at the park visitor center. We shot the sun setting over Pamlico Sound, then moved to Ocracoke Beach for the night shoot.

We heard rumors from a few beachgoers that we might be able to see Space X’s Falcon 9 shortly after it would be launching from Cape Canaveral that night. We really didn’t think much of it, as we assumed the spacecraft would be pretty small from our vantage point; in 20-plus years of shooting night skies, I had never witnessed any rockets or space junk worth photographing. But that was about to change!

We had been shooting for an hour when lo and behold, the rocket started to shoot across the sky, very apparent and looking like nothing I’d ever seen before—like an arrow of light. Luckily most of us were already focused at infinity and just needed to pan our cameras to the direction of the rocket. The spectacle lasted for no more than three minutes, but it was as thrilling as a solar eclipse.

I’d been shooting for supersharp stars with the new Nikon 28mm f/1.4 lens with a 10-second shutter speed, and I absolutely loved the resulting “rocket trail.” If we flip the photo vertically, doesn’t it look like the emblem on the Star Trek uniform? I was able to shoot six frames amid all the excitement. We were all hooting and hollering and sharing what could be a once-in-a-life nighttime experience!

Tim Cooper

Glacier National Park

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Going To The Sun Mountain, Clouds and Star Trails, Glacier National Park. Nikon D850 with a Nikon 14-24mm f/2.8 lens, lit by the rising moon and a Luxli Viola. 6 minutes, f/4, ISO 100.

This image from Glacier National Park in Montana is one of my favorites of the year simply due to the fact that so many factors came together at just the right time. Louis Pasteur famously said that “chance favors the prepared mind.” I truly believe this. Most of our happy accidents would not occur without some planning and preparedness.

In this case, I knew the rising moon would illuminate Going To The Sun Mountain, and I also knew I wanted to capture some of the scraggly trees growing on Sun Point, so I kept my eyes open for a composition looking northwest. After finding my spot, I mounted my Luxli Viola on a small tripod to illuminate the lone tree in the lower right of the image. I wanted the tree to stand out from the darker conifers in the background, but I didn’t want the tree to overpower the moonlit mountain, so I set the power very low.

The next step was to create a composition that would incorporate the foreground with the distant mountains and sky. My initial hope was to capture long star trails over this famed mountain range, but after a few high-ISO test shots I realized the impending clouds would soon command most of the sky. So instead of firing a 25-minute exposure, I decided to switch gears.

In the past, 2- to 4-minute exposures have worked really well for highlighting the movement in low clouds. So I set my Nikon D4s to Bulb and triggered it with a Vello Shutter Boss intervalometer set to 3 minutes. The result? It was OK. The clouds were not moving as fast as I’d thought, so I increased my shutter speed to 6 minutes. Boom! This was the shot.

The clouds flowed through the western gap while hugging the mountains and spreading throughout the image. I also loved the fact that Going To The Sun Mountain was fully illuminated while the more distant mountains where shaded by the clouds. Everything came together. Luck? Planning? Perhaps a bit of both.

Big Bend National Park

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Balanced Rock, Big Bend National Park. Nikon D4s with a Nikon 14-24mm f/2.8 lens, lit by two Luxli Viola lights controlled remotely with the Luxli Conductor app. 2.5 minutes, f/8, ISO 800.

The problem with iconic scenes is that they are just so … iconic. Think Landscape Arch in Arches National Park or Half Dome in Yosemite. Who could leave these places without snapping a shot of them? I’m no different than anyone else in that I, too, want to make my picture of the icons. And like everyone else, I want to do it my way—to put a bit of my personality into the image.

However, this can be terribly difficult with some icons. Often there are few places to stand and very little choice of lenses that can adequately contain the scene. We also have to contend with our preconceived notions of what the image should look like—invariably we are influenced (sometimes subconsciously) with the abundance of imagery we’ve seen of the spot. And then there’s the weather. And the light. Are they as good as that one moment in time that the other photographer experienced? Bagging the icons can be as frustrating and disappointing as it is thrilling and satisfying.

Such was the challenge for one of my favorite images of 2019, which I shot at Balanced Rock in Texas’ Big Bend National Park. I have to admit: I usually don’t do well with photographing the icons. My shots often turn out trite or barely distinguishable from the mass of similar shots. So I really laid into this scene, and decided that I wanted to match the otherworldly landform with light that was equally otherworldly.

Using two Luxli Violas, I was able to create light that could never happen naturally. I positioned them to highlight the dominant features of each of the forms in the composition: the belly of the boulder and the layers of the supporting rocks. Again, this light could never occur naturally, but that’s OK—I wanted to make it my light. The result is a rare case where I felt I actually created my own take on an icon.

Matt Hill

Badlands National Park

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No So “Bad”lands, Badlands National Park. Nikon Z 6 with a Sigma 35mm f/1.4 Art lens. 10 minutes, f/1.4, ISO 100.

Chris and I were fortunate to visit Badlands National Park in South Dakota during an unusually rainy season. The result was both positive and negative.

The positive included the uncharacteristically lush and verdant carpet of clover blanketing the troughs between the badlands formations. I mean, these are badlands, right? They’re not supposed to look lush. However, the negative was that the standing water spawned a hellacious cloud of mosquitoes that actually drove us away from a couple of nice shoot locations. Waiting out long exposures while having blood painfully sucked out of you isn’t among the best of times to be had.

But this spot was too good to give up on. Wearing my full rain gear (on a clear night) to avoid being eaten alive, I attempted to focus through the buzzing of bloodsucking insects to document this dichotomy of a typically barren landscape with the beautiful, albeit invasive (confirmed by rangers), yellow sweet clover.

My setup was facing north, and the rising moon was kissing the right face of the land feature. The star trails raining downward feel peaceful and soft to me, much like the clover felt to the touch.

I’m very much looking forward to going back to Badlands with Lance for our workshop this coming summer, where we’ll be able to photograph the Perseid Meteor Shower in the dark skies of this amazing park.

Bryce Canyon National Park

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Polaris in the Queens Garden, Bryce Canyon National Park. Nikon Z 6 with a Viltrox 20mm f/1.8 lens, light painted with a Luxli Cello. 25 stacked exposures each shot at 4 minutes, f/5.6, ISO 200.

During our late-spring workshop in Utah’s Bryce Canyon National Park, a small group of us hiked pretty far down along the Queens Garden Trail. The experience is a commitment—the air is a little thin at Bryce, and while hiking down is pretty easy, hiking all the way back up with backpacks full of camera gear is not. But the photo opportunities are so worth that commitment.

We kept going until we found a view of Polaris above a hoodoo. The moon was moving around to the left quickly. So we set up to capture the cross-lighting for detail on the hoodoo, followed by at least an hour’s worth of images for star stacking. As the rock face fell into shadow, I went around to the other side and set up a Luxli Cello to create some up-lighting to give the hoodoo depth.

Then we engaged in the most enjoyable part of night photography: getting to know each other. After a relaxing hour and a half, we packed up and began the ascent to the rim, stopping dozens of times along the way to photograph more rocks and stars, as well as to catch our breath.

In post-processing, I had 25 versions of shadows in the foreground from the moon passing through and behind nearby trees. I chose one and masked it in to create more focus on the star field and hoodoo, and also for its lovely tree shape.

Lance Keimig

Glacier National Park

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Many Glacier, Glacier National Park. Nikon D750 with a Tamron 15-30mm F/2.8 lens at 24mm. 198 seconds, f/4, ISO 100.

Every once in a while, I find myself in the right place, at the right time, with a camera on a tripod, when the forces of nature align themselves and afford an opportunity to both witness a remarkable scene and also to record it. The night when Tim and I took our group to Many Glacier during July’s Glacier National Park workshop was such a time.

Early in the evening, the moon was rising behind a mountain and backlighting a small cloud that was perfectly positioned at the silhouetted peak. It was an extraordinary scene, but I was working with a workshop participant and wasn’t able to make a photograph. The cloud dissipated, but a few minutes later, almost magically, another one formed in almost the same location. I was still occupied and watched that one dissipate too. Unbelievably, a third cloud formed over the mountain and I raced to get my camera set up while I had the chance.

Unfortunately, by that time, the moon was rising above the horizon, and the magic was lost. Disappointed, I picked up my gear and turned around, only to see the perfect reflection of Grinnell Point in the unusually still lake. There were clouds streaming over the peak toward my position. Better than a consolation prize, the scene before me was superior to the shot I had missed, and this time I would not be denied.

I had time to carefully compose, confirm my focus and make a series of exposures ranging from 30 seconds to 6 minutes to assure that I captured the most interesting cloud movement possible. About 3 minutes yielded the best result.

Straight big-vista landscape photos are not what I usually make, but that’s what was called for here. After I was confident that I had my shot, I took a few minutes to set the camera aside and simply enjoy the beauty before me––something that can get easily lost when one is excited about photographing what’s in front (or behind) the camera.

Cape Cod National Seashore

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Nauset Light, Cape Cod National Seashore. Nikon D750 with an Irix 15 mm f/2.4 lens. 13 seconds, f/3.2, ISO 6400.

My second pick for favorite image of the year was made during our October workshop in the Province Lands area of Cape Cod National Seashore in Massachusetts. Quite unlike the Many Glacier image that simply presented itself to me, this scene didn’t exist as you see it here—the beam rotates, as opposed to streaming out in different directions simultaneously. What makes the image special to me is that making it involved discovering a new way to solve one of the challenges of photographing a lighthouse with a rotating beam.

If you have ever heard me talk about my work, or taken a class with me, you’ll know that I exhaust every opportunity to make an image in a single frame. I like to stick to a RAW workflow, and go into Photoshop only when I can’t find another way to get the shot. That was the motivation here too.

I’ve made images like this before using a post-production technique I learned from another night photographer, but this was a whole new strategy that Gabe invented accidentally by misunderstanding the technique. (It’s a funny story that we’ll save for a future blog post.)

I was captivated by the possibilities, so I worked on the idea for this image. It took me over an hour of many attempts and variations to come up what you see here, but it was well worth the time invested. Even if it’s not the most amazing shot, discovering and working through the kinks of a new solution to an old problem, and finding an in-camera alternative to what was previously a complex, multiple-exposure method, was all immensely rewarding.

The two images I chose are completely different in style and technique. Aside from being night images, what they really have in common is that they both serve as reminders of the experience I had while making them. To me, the experience is usually at least as important as the resulting image.

Chris Nicholson

Devils Tower National Monument

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Moon, Meadow and River, Devils Tower National Monument. Nikon D5 with a Nikon 24-70mm f/2.8 lens. 15 seconds, f/8, ISO 800.

Wyoming’s Devils Tower National Monument is a place I’d never visited before this past summer, despite having traveled quite close to it in 1998 and 2006. Finally 2019 brought me to this amazing and mystical place, as I was leading a National Parks at Night workshop there with Matt.

The week was full of great photo opportunities, as varying weather allowed us to shoot everything from Milky Way panos over the tower to lightning storms behind it. But the photo I most treasure from the trip is one I made before the workshop even began.

Whenever I’m working someplace new, I always try to schedule some time to make my own photography, and such was the case at Devils Tower. I arrived a several days early, along with Matt (who had been there a few times before, but accommodated me). One of the ideas we chased down was photographing an S-curve of the Belle Fourche River with the tower in the background, which was the quest that led us to this meadow. The photo idea we had in mind didn’t work in that location, but Matt spotted this possibility instead, and graciously pointed it out to me.

I needed the shutter speed to fall within a sweet-spot range: long enough to blur the moving water, but short enough to freeze the moving moon. I settled on 15 seconds. I then tried adding some light painting to the foreground, but after a few tries realized that I preferred the simpler approach of letting the moon gently back-light the grasses of the meadow. It’s a good lesson to learn when to leave perfect alone.

I find that the combination of all the elements—the moon and its reflection, the smooth water, the gentle grasses, the cool tones—creates a peaceful feeling of nature at its finest.

Death Valley National Park

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Moon and Dunes, Death Valley National Park. Nikon D5 with a Nikon 14-24mm lens at 24mm. 10 seconds, f/5.6, ISO 3200.

Death Valley is one of my favorite national parks to shoot, and one of my favorite spots in this park is the Mesquite Flat Dunes. So after 2019 provided five opportunities to shoot there, it shouldn't surprise me that one of my favorite night photos of the year came from that location.

Though Death Valley is perhaps best known for its dunes, they actually cover only a very small percentage of the park. But boy, what they do cover makes for amazing opportunities for photographing interesting shapes in the landscape. Mesquite Flat encompasses 14 square miles of sand that crests and troughs toward each horizon, creating patterns among the ridges and more patterns in the ripples on the slopes. All those patterns and leading lines are where the compositions are to be found.

For this image I chose a short dune that curved nicely back toward where the full moon was rising over the Amargosa Range. I framed low to the ground, then used my Luxli Viola to light paint. I started at the right of the composition and side-lit the dune and the mesquite, then moved to the left with the light to add some fill light in and behind the bush. The goal was to use a color temperature and approach that created a subtle visual impression that the light could conceivably be originating from the moon.

Your Turn

So there you go—from Wyoming to South Dakota, from Montana to Massachusetts, from Utah to North Carolina and beyond—our favorite photographs from 2019.

Now we’d like to see yours! Please share your favorite night image from the past year, either in the comments below or on our Facebook page. And then let’s all move on together to 2020, when we’ll find new ways to enjoy seizing the night.

Chris Nicholson is a partner and workshop leader with National Parks at Night, and author of Photographing National Parks (Sidelight Books, 2015). Learn more about national parks as photography destinations, subscribe to Chris' free e-newsletter, and more at www.PhotographingNationalParks.com.

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UPCOMING WORKSHOPS FROM NATIONAL PARKS AT NIGHT