The Skies above Big Bend

It was pitch black when I got done. The last rays from the moon had disappeared a couple of hours ago. and all that remained was starlight. A million stars dazzled the sky with a density that I have hitherto  not seen. While the air was slightly hazy from the desert dust, there were no clouds to mar the sparkling carpet of innumerable burning suns. Constellations, where I could merely pinpoint the keystone stars, now seemed to be made up of dozens of astral bodies. Shooting stars dashed across this starscape lasting for a bright fleeting moment, while satellites made their slow march across this stellar background. But perhaps most disconcerting was the eerie silence of nothingness, where every insect buzzing and twig creaking sent shivers down my spine. I scurried away from this celestial vista as soon as I finished packing my gear.

Such was Big Bend National Park in Texas. I had set up my camera at a desolate vista point in the heart of the park. Claimed as having one of the darkest night skies in this part of the country, the park is a haven for astrophotographers, and I was excited to see what I could capture on that clear starry night. After setting up my camera to record in the last vestiges of moonlight, I promptly proceeded to catch a quick nap, and it was after I woke up that silence of the night got to me. Nevertheless, the shoot of the equatorial plane of stars resulted in this bright star-trail image.

Big Bend National Park
TX US

Support my work by purchasing my 2018 Calendar. All proceeds will be donated to NRDC and WildAid, two organizations whose causes I am very passionate about

2018 Calendar

Announcing my 2018 photography calendar filled with landscape and travel imagery to inspire you to travel around the world. You can now purchase it for just $16.99 from Lulu.

From the Pacific coast of the US to the Pacific coast of Asia, this calendar will take you on a journey from mystic Japan, through the rugged mountains and ancient civilizations of Central Asia, the Arabian splendor of Morocco and the diverse landscapes of the US.

And remember, this calendar is for a good cause - all proceeds will get donated to NRDC and WildAid.

When the planet's ecology is facing multiple threats, be it climate change, wildlife exploitation and poaching, pollution, we need a protector, and NRDC works tirelessly to safeguard the place we live. I truly believe in its mission to protect our planet.

Illegal wildlife trade has had a serious impact on the populations of many endangered species. While there are efforts to curb poaching, WildAid believes in attacking the demand side of the equation by persuading consumers and strengthening enforcement. I do hope that they succeed in their mission.

Refuge in the mountains

Out in the middle of a green valley in the western Tien Shan mountains lies a stone refuge. At 3200m, this seemingly desolate refuge is miles away from the nearest village, with nothing but tall treeless mountains with grassy slopes all around. The setting is remarkably beautiful, but for what purpose was this built? Why does it have 31 rooms, with many hidden passageways? And why was it so far away from anything? Mysteries abound this stone refuge, the Tash Rabat Caravanserai.

I had heard about this place during my initial research into Kyrgyzstan. My interest was piqued by the fact that it was a caravanserai that was not built along any major caravan route. But being so far off from the main cities, I had put off visiting this attraction. Thankfully, not only did I get an opportunity to visit, I also got to spend a night by one of the yurts next door.

Despite the half-moon, the clear night sky, bereft of any haze thanks to being at 3200m, afforded a great opportunity to capture some star trains. I set up on a nearby hill, and with an entire retinue of herding animals to provide company: galloping horses, barking dogs, and grazing cattle wandered all over, but thankfully never knocked my tripod. 15 exposures and 90 minutes later, I ended up with this star trails image over Tash Rabat

Tash Rabat Caravanserai
Naryn Kyrgyzstan

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.