Dark and Early

Gary Hart Photography: Autumn Morning, North Lake Reflection, Eastern Sierra

Autumn Chill, North Lake Reflection, Eastern Sierra
Sony α1
Sony 16-35 f/2.8 GM
ISO 50
f/18
20 seconds

The key to successful sunrise photography is arriving early—dark and early. Not just to photograph the early morning twilight, but to familiarize yourself with the surroundings to be ready for whatever the rapidly changing morning light delivers.

Exactly how early is “dark and early”? Well, another way of looking at it would be, if you can navigate without a flashlight, you’re too late. I know, I know, you’re sleepy, hungry, and it’s cold, but it shouldn’t take more than one or two mad sprints beneath fading crimson skies to motivate you to pull back those covers and plop your bare feet onto the bedroom floor just a few minutes earlier. And guess what—when you arrive early enough to savor the sunrise rather than rush through it, you’ll soon appreciate the simple purity of air, sound, and light that just can’t be found at any other time of day. Not to mention the sky-spanning transition of color and light that precedes the sun’s arrival.

At popular sunrise spots like North Lake (west of Bishop in the Eastern Sierra), arriving at least forty-five minutes before sunrise has the added advantage of beating most of the people with whom you’ll soon be competing for choice photography real estate. Arriving this early, the chilly air at North Lake is often graveyard-still and the lake a perfect mirror—already worth the sacrifice. And though the sky is so dark to that a few stars still burn overhead, you’re not too early to start photographing. Long exposures in the pre-sunrise darkness reveal even more of the remaining stars, unveil invisible color in the aspen surrounding the lake, and smooth any ripples disturbing the lake’s surface.

The image here was captured a couple of months ago, during the second sunrise shoot of this year’s Eastern Sierra Fall Color photo workshop. In our brief parking lot orientation before taking the short walk to the lake, I’d advised everyone to be very careful about the place they choose to set up because soon there won’t be enough room on the lakeshore to move anywhere else. And since experience here has shown me that people don’t always appreciate how well today’s digital sensors perform in low light, my job once we got out there and everyone had set up was to move around encouraging my group to take advantage of the shadowless early light their eyes couldn’t yet register.

As predicted, the crowd soon increased to the point where we all had to live with the foreground we’d chosen. So when the scene’s features started to reveal themselves to our eyes, my attention turned to helping my group incorporate into their compositions whatever foreground was in front of them. By the time the sun kissed the highest peaks, I still hadn’t taken any pictures of my own. But when small clouds began to form in invisible updrafts playing among the peaks, I was grateful to have claimed my own spot before the masses had arrived.

Surveying the scene this morning, I thought about the iconic autumn Maroon Bells in Maroon Lake (near Aspen, Colorado) that I know only by reputation (Google it—I’d be very surprised if you’ve never seen an autumn image from here). And while the autumn sunrise crowds at North Lake can be a challenge, from what I hear, they’re nothing compared to the Maroon Bells morning mayhem.

I won’t try to claim that this North Lake view is better than Maroon Lake’s, but one thing I do think is better (based on the images I’ve seen of the Maroon Bells reflected in Maroon Lake) is North Lake’s foreground possibilities that enable a tremendous variety of compositions. Not only are there lots of great foreground features that vary significantly depending on where you set up, they also vary from year-to-year, as even very small changes in the lake level make a big difference in the rocks, both exposed and submerged, that are visible.

Click to view slideshow.

An added bonus this morning was the frost glazing the grass that lined the lake. With the clouds and light changing quickly, I went to work trying to find the best way to feature all of this morning’s best elements: sunlit peaks, wispy clouds, golden aspen, rippled reflection, frosted grass, and protruding granite rocks. That’s a lot to deal with.

Having allowed my group to claim their own turf before staking mine, I’d ended up at the far end of the line (so I was in no one’s way), then rock-hopping out to a flat rock a couple of feet into the lake and actually extending one tripod leg into the water. Being essentially in the water gave me the cleanest view of the entire reflection and the best control over the rocks/reflection relationship. This morning I dropped my tripod a couple of feet to minimize the empty space between the rocks and the peaks’ reflection. And since the sky above the peaks was (boring) blank blue, I included the absolute minimum amount of blue I thought I could get away with.

The downside of getting started so late was the glassy reflection that we’d enjoyed much of the morning was gone, so I added my Breakthrough Filters 6-Stop Dark Polarizer for a water-smoothing long exposure. By dialing to ISO 50 and stopping down to f/18, with the filter I was able to stretch my shutter speed all the way out to 20 seconds. I turned the polarizer only enough to cut the reflection around the rocks without erasing the rest of the reflection.

Often the seeds of an image are planted long before the shutter is clicked. This image was captured well after the morning’s darkness had left, but as with many of my favorite sunrise images, it wouldn’t have been possible if I hadn’t been out there dark and early to claim my spot and familiarize myself with the scene’s many variables.

We’ll return to North Lake in my next Eastern Sierra photo workshop