Prehistoric Tranquility

There's a sublime stillness the hour before the sun rises in the desert. A quiet that reaches deeper than merely a place without sound, a quiet that creeps through you, and you realize that out here, there is no rush. I'm sitting, and a light breeze brushes across my face. To the East the false sunrise starts to glow a deep indigo ever so subtly illuminating the surrounding hills and for the first time I see the valley I'm in. I stand up and reach down, hoisting my bag over my shoulders I start to move further East, searching. I've been up since before early and have long finished the coffee I brewed back in camp before heading out to capture the morning light.

There's a mystery in arriving at a place long after dark, as I did here late last night. With the morning comes the surprise of what you've discovered, and where you called home just the night before. This place is no different, and after a few hours sleep, a quick cup of black coffee, and a two day old half eaten bagel I head out on foot into the dry expanse of darkened desert to wander the scene and wait for sunrise.

Adding to the stillness is the complete lack of animal life.  The baking heat of the daytime forces most desert creatures to become active during the long cool hours of night, but as I eagerly await the sun, these animals have long ago taken refuge from its inevitable rise.  They are a bit smarter than I am, but I'm here to photograph and have come well prepared with enough water to make my own oasis. 

The false sunrise has passed and a cool deep purple glow is starting to spread across the open sky.  Setting my bag down I unfurl my tripod and set it down as well.  I've walked a few miles and found a small group of boulders that will make a fine foreground.  Unzipping my bag and attaching it to my tripod, I can already see the composition I want and setup my camera in preparation for the light.  I have awhile before it's full sunrise and so wander off.

It's getting lighter by the minute, and the expanse of the valley is becoming more apparent.  I seem to be the only person here, which makes me smile.  It's a necessity for me to come to these places, not only to photograph, although that's a driving reason, but to become whole again.  Perhaps when we're alone in these places, forced to confront the barest of life's essentials we come to understand something within us that cannot be reached when in the presence of others.  A sudden rustling jerks me from my meditative trance and I see a small jackrabbit dart from under a bush a few feet from me, it's huge radiator ears pumping blood to dissipate it's body heat. 

The sun is almost up now and I wander back to my camera.  In a few minutes all thoughts will narrow to the subtle technicals of making photographs, and I'll be at home as I begin to make image after image.