Let me start off by saying it pains me, I mean it truly makes me physically hurt, when I look at some of the landscape images I’m about to show you below.
They are from a two-part sunrise scene I was so blessed to photograph, nay, I mean be a part of one morning nearly ten years ago while I was on a state-owned wetland preserve that borders the northern edge of the Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge.
I tried my best to fully capture the complete sunrise scene with my camera but, unfortunately, I wasn’t able to even come close to fully gathering what nature showed me early that morning, at least with the second part of this story, that is.
Cameras can only capture and record light and part of this morning was so much more than just a few glimmering rays of emerging sunlight that tried to warm the cold, wintery landscape below.
It was the prevailing serene and solemn mood of what I actually stumbled upon that filled this particular photographer’s inner self to the brim, something that no camera could ever begin to record.
Only a person’s soul could truly gather it in for even the shortest length of time until it was time to leave, with only a memory and a partial image or two as a fleeting remembrance of what once was.
Chasing sunrises with my camera was something I did almost daily for a very long time until bird photography literally grabbed my heart years ago, and it has never fully given it back since.
But on this particular morning, I had no idea what was in store for me as I rolled upon what I thought was just another compelling sunrise scenario.
At first, the sunrise did what was expected, slowly rising in the east over the towering Wasatch Mountains as it gleamed and glistened with a little texture in the clouds and painted the sky with some brilliant, bright orange hues.
As you can see from the above images, it was certainly a pleasant sunrise for sure but nothing I hadn’t seen or photographed before.
I was able to capture the sunrise without much effort and when it started to fade I thought that was it for the morning and packed up my gear feeling quite content with what I had seen and photographed.
Well, that was until I turned around and started to head back to the car.
It was at that moment I realized the sunrise I just photographed wasn’t the best show that morning had to offer, oh, not by a long shot.
What I was then suddenly faced with was some soft, billowy clouds and a falling full moon, all christened by some of the softest colors in a sky I had ever seen in nature.
The water was almost perfectly glass-smooth and the reflection made the scene twice as spectacular as the moon and clouds reflected themselves back towards the pastel-painted sky.
Ducks and geese both sat out on the reflective water and occasionally flew by the full but falling moon.
I mean to tell you this whole sunrise and falling moon scenario was truly nothing short of what is termed “heaven on earth”.
But it was also the hardest scene I had ever tried to photograph.
As the moon slowly fell into an ideal spot, one where its reflection could also fully be captured and appreciated in the image without too much sky or water, the soft but brilliant colors had already begun to fade as the rising sun behind me inched its way closer to fruition, chasing the subtle but powerful colors away with every ticking of the proverbial clock.
It’s interesting to note with part one of this sunrise experience, I couldn’t wait for the sun to start its rise as that only brings more and more color by the second.
But with a completely different scene now in front of me with part two of this sunrise situation, each literal inch of the rising sun that was now over my shoulder was sadly chasing away what I was so franticly trying to capture and preserve with my camera.
Unfortunately, the rising sun beat me as I just couldn’t capture what I was witnessing with both color and composition in mind.
(Enjoying A Peaceful Sunset On The Great Salt Lake. For short nature clips like this one and interesting stories about the natural world around us, check out our Bear River Blogger channel on YouTube for videos and updates from our travels while out in nature, both on and off of the famed Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge.)
I had no idea there was a full moon that morning and to make matters worse, I actually paid no attention to the falling moon until it was almost too late to get even an average photograph as it slowly and casually fell behind me.
My mind was so focused on the sunrise in front of me that I had no idea there was a much better scene building itself up right behind me at the very same time.
This is yet another example of even with sunsets and sunrises, a great photographer will always look around at every angle and situation, even directly behind him as you just never know what nature will throw at you when you least expect it.
This same kind of “two-sunset” situation, one without a moon, unfortunately, happened again one evening a few years back as I was photographing a sunset on the backside of Antelope Island.
Luckily, I actually learned a thing or two from my mistake regarding the very story I am telling you now and, fortunately, by just turning around at the right time I immediately noticed what was happening behind me was even better than what was playing out right in front of me.
But that two-part sunset is another story for another day I suppose when I can find all the supporting images and have time to write it up.
So the lesson for today is always to keep your eyes open in all directions when photographing sunrises and sunsets because you just never know what you will find in even the most unlikely directions.
It has happened to me more than once or twice so trust me on this, what you are actively photographing isn’t always the best available scene to be, well, photographing.
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