The Two Towers

There is a place in the US that is called Monument Valley, enshrined in the minds of many as what the American West looks like. It may seen implausible, but until you get to that valley in the Four Corners Area of the lower 48, clustered with vast sandstone buttes towering towards the sky, you won't get to realize why.

I stood in the heart of Monument Valley one night, watching in awe at the night sky in utter darkness. In front of me, the bright band of the Milky Way rose, a tower light light marching towards eternal darkness, eclipsing the silhouettes of all other sandstone buttes. The sky was a glittering carpet, with far more stars visible than the average wilderness, thanks to the atmospherics of this isolated place. I watched satellites crawl on the canvas of stars, shooting stars scintillate for a fleeting instance, and the slow march of the stars around the Pole. I was lost in time and space.

Every time I look back at the photos, my memories flash back to that cool evening, tramping over rocks and avoiding cacti, and trying to catch that jewel-like night sky. This one was captured at ISO 3200, at F4 for 30s

Monument Valley Navajo Monument
AZ USA

Heading: North

It was a bright moonlit night high up in the mountains of the Olympic National Park. The silence of the still night was only broken by the sounds of hooves treading the ground as stealthy deer grazed in the grassy meadow all around me. But under the full moon, even the deer could not stay hidden for long. And I was keeping a close watch on them, for the last thing I wanted was one of them wandering into the tripod and knocking the camera that was shooting this image.

The bright moonlight had made it challenging to find a suitable composition for shooting the night sky. The horizon was bright, not from moonlight, but from the setting sun, while high above, all but the brightest stars laid hidden from both me and my camera. Wandering around, I finally spotted a grove of trees pointing up towards the Pole star; it was as though nature herself had stretched out her arms to point me to the north. And the near full moon had ensured that these still denizens of the forest would not stay invisible.

I shot a total of 17 exposures, each5 min long at F8, ISO 800 to capture this moonlit star-trails.

Olympic National Park
WA USA

Totality

It was the morning of Aug 21, the day of the total eclipse. The bright sunny day was slowly transforming into a twilight zone. The light started fading slowly at first, and quickened as it approached totality. The mercury was dropping steadily, and I regretted my decision on not carrying a hoodie. The crescent of the sun continued thinning, and suddenly, Mt Jefferson, a volcanic peak 100 miles away, went dark. And then, darkness hit me with a celestial hammer.

The bright disk of sunlight was replaced by the stream of coronal discharge emanating in all directions. Even solar flares on the surface became visible. And while that in itself was spectacular, it was seeing the surreal landscape around that threw me off. The sky was pitch black above me (dark enough to spot planets), while on either side of the band of totality, it looked like twilight after a sunset. The crowds all around erupted in cheers, while I was still juggling the task of soaking in the scene and trying to capture the event with two cameras. Nevertheless, it was an unforgettable event. And then, just as darkness began, it ended.

I had seen eclipses before, a partial eclipse back in India, and an annular eclipse in California. And I had known today's total eclipse for a long time. And I had always wondered what the big deal of a total eclipse was. But after today's event, I was completely blown away by how unique totality is. And I now look forward to total eclipses that the future will bring.

Madras
OR USA

Welcome to Seattle

The sweeping arc of the onramp races below me to merge onto the busy deck of an expressway, which, in the distance, leads to the gleaming lights of downtown Seattle. The tendrils of automotive traffic snakes its way through the concrete network carrying commuters home after a long day and bringing tourists in to enjoy a beautiful summer weekend. The pulse of the city can be easily measured by the traffic patterns on this busy arterial thoroughfare for Seattle.

I had always wanted to shoot from this location, a bridge connecting Capital Hill and Beacon Hill overlooking the busy junction of I-90 and I-5, and over the last week, I finally managed to. While the sunset was less than spectacular, it was worth waiting until twilight for the lights of the skyscrapers to turn on. While the viewpoint was great, I am not entirely satisfied with the location, and I need to find another vantage point that avoids the emptiness on the right side of the image. I hope to return back to try out other compositions under more colorful sunsets. This particular shot was an 8s exposure at F11 and ISO 400

Seattle
WA USA

When the sky sings

When the sky sings, it does so in spectacular ways: the crack of thunder, the roar of a hurricane, or the sizzle of a lightning. But when the sky lights up with the aurora borealis, what you see is a brilliant visualization of a magnetic storm, replete with twirls and swirls, loops and waves, of jets and microbursts.
Being able to witness a display so bright as to light up the entire night sky, and reflect in the bay in front of you is a unique feeling. The excitement and joy of that experience was so strong that the discomfort from the freezing cold conditions, or the general tiredness from the long day of driving across the country, all but melted away.
This is but one snapshot of a northern light display that lasted into the wee hours of the morning somewhere in the northern part of Iceland, a country I hope to return and travel again.

Saeberg
Iceland

Sky's Necklace

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As dusk turned to twilight and to night, the varied hues on the sand dunes of the Sahara Desert slowly faded away, and the starscape slowly came into view. First, it was only the brightest stars and the well-recognizable constellations, but soon, even the faintest ones started twinkling, a kaleidoscope of white glitter against a black carpet.

And with that, the faint band of the Milky Way became visible. Arching across the sky towards the north, the Sky's Necklace was less brighter than what I had been used to back in California, yet it was prominent in its march across the starscape. It was still high up in the sky, thwarting any meaningful attempt at photographing it.

I waited for a few more hours, until the crackle of the campfire slowly died down and voices of the denizens of the Berber campsite faded away. This time, the bright arch of the galactic plane was closer to the horizon, and unfortunately, also closer to the bright lights from cities a few dozen kilometers away. Nevertheless, I persisted and captured this image during the dark hours of midnight, feeling the cold wind in my face, and freezing sand on my feet.

Microsoft's Image Composite Editor did a fantastic job with the panoramic stitch, whilst Photoshop helped transform the result into the glorious scene I witnessed that night out on the dunes of Morocco

Erg Chebbi Dunes
Morocco

The Vortex

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After watching the recent Star Wars - Rogue one film, a friend of mine commented that she was so excited she wouldn't be able to sleep through the night. And that got me thinking about an experience I had had that left me that excited and palpitated - the Northern Lights show I witnessed over the skies of Northern Iceland earlier this year.

I remember that night as vividly as yesterday: a self-cooked meal a beautiful sunny evening on the grassy shores of a gentle fjord, followed by a relaxing soak in an open-air hot tub after a day of miserable weather, gave way to a cool night with clear skies. It was then that a faint glow appeared in the sky, becoming brighter and longer until it was a thick band of dancing green light that stretched horizon to horizon.

The patterns were ephemeral, the intensity continuously alternating, the color constantly shifting, but it all came together to present a visual spectacle that never bored me or the few other brave souls gazing upwards on that cold night. Even though the temperature dropped to single digits (Celsius), the photographer in me never fazed.

At one point, the glow appeared directly overhead, leading to an effect quite like peering into the vortex. The greens give way to the other colors such as purple, pink and red. This is one such exposure from that time.

Saeberg
Iceland

If you want to see this print, you can do so by purchasing my calendar from https://goo.gl/LGJYRk . All proceeds will go to NRDC and WildAid, two non-profits whose causes I am very passionate about.