Dark Enough

This story is about a chain of events that was sparked by a sudden disappointment and the life-changing effect those events had on me.

Here's the song that inspired the title to this piece and the photo above. Read on to understand why.

I rarely write much about my photos, because I prefer to let them speak for themselves. I'm making an exception for this one because it holds very special meaning for me and I'd like to pass on what it taught me – and how - to anyone that may take the time to read this.

This is not my best photograph of the Milky Way. It's one of hundreds I've taken and in fact, it's only one of many I took on this night. It is, however a very straightforward, honest photo of the view through my lens at the time and that's important to this story.

The Let-Down

The year that this was taken was marked by several disappointments. Among those was the last-minute cancellation of a trip to shoot the Perseids meteor shower over one of the best-known landmarks in Palo Duro Canyon State Park. After a month of planning, the photographer who had invited me called it off, two days before the event.

Needless to say, I was in a very dark place, and not the kind that's needed for astrophotography.

Pam to the Rescue!

I'm fortunate enough to have a wife who understands my need to create. Keep in mind that she was originally going to be stuck at home, minding our two rambunctious, sixty-pound dogs while I spent the night out with my camera gear.

Rather than letting me slip further into my funk, she reminded me that it had been an awfully long time since we'd been camping and it would be a good training trip for the "girls." Naturally, I felt the need to remind her that the area I had planned to be in would be chilly, no fires were allowed and it wasn't an ideal place to take the dogs. She didn't fall for that one, either - she's something of a genius when it comes to my excuses.

After a short Google search, she located Meade State Park in Kansas, about four hours away. The map showed a small lake and several campgrounds, one of which was a tent campground on the north shore, far enough from the RV camping to avoid problems. I remained skeptical, of course, because I wasn't quite ready to stop sulking.

Conspiracy!

Pam found the phone number and I called the park headquarters, prepared to ask the questions that would surely eliminate this place as a possibility.

As it turned out, the friendly, female park ranger that answered was apparently in on the conspiracy to get me out of my mood and the house. She assured me that the park "got pretty dark at night," and there was a very good view of the southern sky. Firewood? They had plenty and it was already gathered - as well as free. The final shot was fired when she answered that on the Sunday night we planned to be there, not many others would be.

My plans to stay angry foiled, I thanked her sincerely and hung up. Seeing in Pam's eyes that she already knew, I suggested I go get the camping gear ready. After all, I now had four females conspiring against me. What's a guy to do?

The Trip

We like taking the back roads, and this was a great opportunity. It would be a first-time road trip for our girls (We had rescued them only recently, but that's another story.) so we were prepared to spend some time dealing with carsickness and other issues.

We opted not to bring the fishing tackle this time, since this was just an overnight trip. Besides, we were on a mission to photograph meteors! With all the other gear on the luggage rack, we headed out a little later than we'd planned, but not enough to be concerned.

For those who don't know, road trips with a nature photographer aren't usually easy or short. For once, I resisted the urge to stop every time the scenery called for it and only took a couple of shots while stopping for nature calls and drinks for the dogs. I'm reasonably sure I deserve some sort of award for that, but nothing has come in the mail to date.

All in all, the girls traveled well, the drive was uneventful and I mentally noted places to stop and shoot on the way home. We drove in, found our spot and registered with just enough time to set up before sundown - and of course, I had to take time to capture the sunset:

Arrival

I also have to take the time to say that the park was everything the ranger said it would be. We had the entire northern shore of the lake and tent campground to ourselves. There was a huge pile of deadfall at a designated spot, with easy access to load it on a vehicle. We chose a spot next to a grass-covered, rocky pier, extending straight out to the south - a perfect place to set up two cameras!

Have I mentioned that I have the perfect wife? We managed to get the tent set up, handle the dogs, get a small fire started and have everything in order before darkness fell. "We," in this case means "She." I did the "manly stuff" and then had to get the cameras set up. Pam took care of the camp details and the dogs, and the fire, and...

Nightfall

With everything in order and the cameras on the tripods, we stood back to watch the light fade and the stars appear. The Milky Way was a brilliant spectacle, and Mars shone brightly close by.

The low clouds reflected the sun just below the horizon, while the higher, thinner clouds created a striking, diffuse glow as they passed across the brightest objects. Higher still, the light pollution from the nearby town of Meade manifested an unnatural glow, but it seemed to suit the scene well.

I took my test shots, started my intervalometers, and after Pam and I watched the show for a while, we wandered back to the fire and roasted hot dogs, fed the girls and felt the tension of the past few days melt away. Funny how that happens under the stars with the right company!

The World Turns...

The night was cool, but mild. As the core of our galaxy moved across the sky, there were only occasional signs of the other campers. Coyotes serenaded us, piquing our girls' curiosity. We calmed them and they listened intently, but stayed close. Not far away, shutters clicked quietly as the cameras faithfully recorded frame after frame.

Ironically, the orientation of the campground put a massive stand of tall cottonwood trees between us and the center of the meteor shower, so we only saw a few. Considering the view we had, I couldn't have cared less.

In time, Pam and the girls decided it was time to turn in. I helped them get situated in the tent, gave goodnight kisses all around (Pam first) and zipped them in snugly. Turns out the four-legged girls are perfectly at home in a tent, and good heaters, too.

I wandered out and checked the cameras again, then spent the next few hours putting an occasional log on the low-burning fire, staring at the embers and then the sky, and contemplating what a lucky man I am. Coyotes sang. Bushes rustled. Wings whistled overhead in the darkness.

My heart grew calmer.

Eventually, I noticed the mist rising from the surface of the lake and wandered back out on the pier to check the cameras. The lenses were just beginning to fog, but the shoot was obviously over. I shut things down and quietly packed the camera gear in the car, then took one last trip out to look over the lake while the fire died down.

A Goodnight Call

Opening the tent flap carefully, I took the girls out for a little walk, and then crawled into the tent with them. Pam stirred and woke as they and I settled in. I snuggled up and we both just breathed in the calm, cool night air.

A "whoosh" of wings softly broke the silence. Moments later, the unmistakable call of a Great Horned Owl sounded, loud and directly overhead. The girls jumped, but a calm word settled them down again. The call was repeated, then answered, distant, but not too far. The night shift was on duty. Sleep came easily.

Lights

I awoke only once before dawn. I had the impression that I'd seen a bright light through my eyelids. A passing car, perhaps? Then came another light, dimmer, but moving. Then a third, brighter, and moving again.

It finally occurred to me that the shower had finally moved overhead, and the meteors were as plentiful and bright as expected, visible as a glow through the thin nylon dome of the tent. After a few minutes, I simply chuckled and closed my eyes.

A screech owl made its presence across the road known as I drifted off to sleep.

Daybreak

We roused ourselves not long after dawn and restarted a small fire to cook breakfast. Pam grabbed the supplies out of the cooler while I walked the girls and got the coffee perking. No meal will ever be better than the bacon and eggs we cooked over the fire that morning. The girls got their share, of course. The air was fresh and the lake was still as the birds and other campers began to greet the day.

Breaking camp and preparing to leave was a leisurely process. No one was anxious to leave, but we didn't want to rush the trip home.

After packing and loading up, we followed the loop back toward the park entrance. I stopped to chat with a couple of older gentlemen fishing close to the dam for a few minutes and then it was time to go, after vowing to come back for some fishing.

Home Again, Healed

We all enjoyed a slow ride home, with only a minor worry as we pulled into the first town on the return trip with the gas gauge below empty. The Jimmy apparently enjoyed the trip, too, proving it by making it to the station.

We arrived home refreshed and renewed, in love with each other, our "furbabies" and life. I knew I'd had a much greater adventure than the originally planned trip and I had been miraculously reborn as my true self.

About the Title

If you've read this far, thank you! As promised, I'm going to explain what prompted the title of this story and the opening photo. (I know, it's about time.)

A few days after the trip, I was talking with a good friend and fellow photographer about the adventure and sharing the photo. I was bouncing some title ideas around, when he asked me if I'd heard a song called "For You to See the Stars," by Radney Foster. I hadn't, so I looked it up and listened.

It's a simple country song with a clear message. The story in the song isn't exactly related, but the chorus contains a phrase that hit home and I've carried it with me since: "It's gotta' get dark enough for you to see the stars..." That says it all, figuratively and literally, and I've had many occasions to remind myself of those words since that night.

Dear reader, I'd like to encourage you to listen to the song, regardless of your taste in music. I think you'll find a place for that simple philosophy in your life, too.

Thank you, Pam, for putting up with me and sharing my nights. You are truly my brightest star. Thank you Chad Umberger, for pointing me in the direction of the song. Finally, thank you, reader, for hanging in there!

May all your dark times be blessed with stars!

***

Author's note: I talked my friend, Chad, into signing up on Vocal. Please, check out his writing HERE.

BTW: If you'd like to see a short time lapse video I created from a set of the images of this night, You can check it out HERE.