Thought of the Shot: Witnessing Moonset

Not too long ago, I got a notification that is every photographer's nightmare: cloud storage low. I keep original copies of all my photographs saved to offline storage devices, but I also keep them saved in the cloud for easier access.

When my storage fills up, I cull old photos to make space for new ones. I don’t delete my “good” shots, just the ones I will never publish for whatever reason – missed focus, bad lighting, poor composition, etc. Nothing more than digital clutter.

But as I was combing through my library, I realized many of my photos were from one-off outings. Not big trips or planned expeditions, simply an afternoon here or a morning there. That caught my attention because, up until this point, my blog posts have largely recounted big stories and grand adventures.

I am changing that with this new series, the Thought of the Shot. Rather than lengthy posts and chronicles of events, I’ll share just an image or two along with my goals or thoughts about that outing.

I hope it will serve as more of an “inside look” about what sometimes goes right, what usually goes wrong, and how I work when I am out shooting.

For my inaugural post, I wanted to tell you about this image: Witnessing Moonset.

Last fall, I saw a neat rock. All cool stories start this way.

This rock, more of an outcrop, was one I had passed before. It stands high in the alpine tundra and marks the end of the Tundra Communities Trail. It also, as I then hoped, could align with a vertical Milky Way.

A North American autumn translates to active winter above tree line, so I knew I had limited time to put my theory to the test. I went out, took some photos, and came back. The stars looked great but, for some reason, I had chosen to stand like I had never used human legs before. Lesson learned.

(The photo above is not that photo, so I don’t want to hear it).

I wanted to go back out and try again, but of course I was met with several days of clouds. By the time I got a clear night, nearly a week had elapsed. That wasn’t very long in real time, but in astrophotgraphy time that meant the Moon could pose a challenge.

You see, the Moon reflects a lot of light. Enough that when it is a half-moon or brighter, it can essentially dilute an otherwise dark sky. Sometimes you can wait for the Moon to set, but the Moon and the stars still traverse the sky in the same direction.

So, when I went back out to the outcrop, it was not nearly as dark as I had originally planned. All I could do was to give it my best shot.

What you see here is the result; my silhouette next to the rock, set against a medium-dark sky and a blazing setting Moon. Thin clouds to the south obscured a direct view of the Moon, but they also helped reduce the glare and brightness at the same time.

I wouldn't say this was what I wanted, but I was happy with it at the same time.

Although I usually try to avoid seeing the Moon on my outings, I actually relished it this one specific instance. I thought it represented a fitting end the 2025 Milky Way season – by Witnessing Moonset.