About a year ago, I went on a little photo mission to southwest Montana and northwest Wyoming. I had just wrapped on a production and had a very narrow window of time to make this trip happen. Without a question, I had to be back by 9:00 AM on the 4th of July. This was a very hard deadline, so that meant I had about 4 days total for the trip. Every year on the 4th we attend the Nebraska Danish Society aebleskiver breakfast at Vennelyst Park…say that five times fast. It’s a main highlight of the year and permanently locked on the calendar. My whole family gets together the morning of the 4th to fill ourselves with Danish pancakes, sausage links, and applesauce. Can’t miss it. The room is filled with smoke and you always have to wait in line, but the place radiates with hard-to-find Americana and the food and fellowship are always five stars. My kids ask about it all year long. The destination for my trip was actually a mystery until the night before I left. The requirements: clear skies in a remote area with no light pollution and an interesting landscape. I looked at the weather for the next few days and it looked like my best chance for clear, dark, and interesting was in the Yellowstone region. Sounded great, so that’s where I went.
I loaded up the van with food and photo gear and hit the road at about 6:15 AM on Sunday the 30th of June. I drove all day and only made the bare minimum of stops for gas. I did stop briefly on the side of the road in southeastern Wyoming to take a quick shot. I thought the light was really cool and there were great leading lines formed by the highway leading into the mountains. I wasn’t too excited about the actual results so I wasn’t there long. On trips like this, I’ve found it’s really best not to think about how many miles or how many hours I’ll actually be traveling. That kind of thinking just makes the whole trip seem longer and more like a chore. The long expanse of the highway is good for my brain and I get my best thinking done on the road. I’ve actually written entire scripts driving down the highway. I immerse myself into podcasts about food or spirituality or filmmaking and let them take me on mental adventures.
There was a new moon on the second, so that was my target. I could get a few shots before then and scout some locations I had in mind, but the second was definitely the target day for this project. I drove all day and landed just east of Yellowstone right before sunset. I stopped for a minute at the Buffalo Bill Reservoir for a quick shot of the lake and some interesting clouds, but needed to keep moving to get to a little National Forrest Campground that was up the road a few miles. It was just starting to get dark when I rolled into the campground. The hosts were rugged, yet kind and welcomed me graciously to their summer home. About five seconds into a conversation with them you could tell that they absolutely loved their life. They were in paradise. The campground was nestled in a thick stand of Lodgepole Pine and the smoke from a dozen fires hung low in the air. It smelled incredible. I pulled into a spot overlooking the North Fork of the Shoshone River, but I couldn’t really see it because of the light level. I could hear it roaring loudly. I studied a map for a few minutes and then fell asleep.
Sunset over Buffalo Bill Reservoir in Western Wyoming on June 30th, 2019
I rolled out of camp about 4:30 AM to jam up to the park entrance, which was about 30 minutes from my camp. The guard station was empty and there was absolutely no one around. I smiled with satisfaction because I knew that every Yellowstone entrance would be chaotic in a few hours. That’s how they are this time of year, but not at this hour of day. From here, it’s a super quick drive to the east shore of Yellowstone Lake. There was evidence of road construction going on, so a lot of the pullouts and parking spots were blocked off. I knew I had some ground to cover to get to where I wanted to scout, so I enjoyed my drive with the windows down and the music off. Happy. The park is so amazing and inspiring this time of day. It feels endless. I stopped at Old Faithful about 7:00 AM and took in the scenery for a little while, but the next eruption wasn’t going to happen for another couple of hours, so I kept moving.
Between 8:30 and 9:00 AM, the masses began to swarm. The flood gates opened up. It was on. Tourists everywhere. Busses, shuttles, and more busses. I used to live about an hour from the park so I would make frequent visits in the spring and fall, but it had been a long time since I had been there in the summer. Bus after bus after bus. Traffic jams everywhere. Elk in the meadow? Traffic jam. Bison four hundred yards away? Traffic jam. Bear sighting? Might as well turn around and go home because you’re not getting through that area today. Parking lots were beyond capacity, overflow lots were overflowing, cars pulled over at every possible spot you could fit a car. Wrecks, stuck tourists waiting for tow trucks…backed up traffic everywhere. My van is a little on the long side so that makes things even trickier. Scouting the locations I had jotted down in my notebook just really wasn’t working. The only two that I could legitimately scout were Firehole Canyon and Sheapeater Cliff. Firehole Canyon road is so gorgeous and worth the drive. Near Madison, this scenic one way road winds through a canyon with amazing views of the Firehole River at every turn. There is an epic swimming hole on the river in this canyon, but it is normally packed to the brim. On this trip, the swimming hole was closed so there weren’t that many people in the canyon. Unfortunately, none of the accessible spots worked quite right for my shot, so I carried on. Sheepeater Cliff is geologically badass. It’s essentially a sheer wall of exposed basalt columns that towers above the Gardner River like a fortress. There’s a really nice trail that continues past the cliff and follows the river the whole way- it’s a great little hike. Again, location just didn’t quite line up for what I wanted to shoot that night, so back into the traffic I went.
The Firehole River in Yellowstone National Park
Firehole Falls in Yellowstone National Park
I eventually found a quiet place to pull over. It was a nice little spot overlooking a valley that nobody seemed to care about. I could even see a lone bison in the distance. A creek meandered back and forth through native grasses and you could see forever from here. I really wished I had brought a fly rod. I opened the side door and relaxed with my notes and a map. The crowds were really starting to get to me. I think I needed a plan B because my original plan wasn’t working…too many people. Should I wait it out until all the tourists head to bed and then rally to find a spot or should I just move on to quieter lands? The more I thought about the locations I scouted and the other potential locations for astro shots, the less inspired I got. I think the crowds had just drained the creative juices out of me.
What to do…pondering options. I thought about the Gardner river next to Sheepeater Cliff. Then my mind traveled to the Gallatin River. YES! My old friend. I would love to see her again. I used to live in Bozeman and I worked as a river guide on the Gallatin River near Big Sky. In those days, I would spend all day every day on the river. Sometimes I would do three 1/2 day trips in a day. Ponder that one for a minute…And then I would camp next to the river at night. I remembered a pretty spot that I shot some medium format panoramas about 15 years ago. Such a wonderful fall day that was. I can see it and hear it and smell it just like it was yesterday. My dog Ralph was with me. I guessed it was about two hours from my location. I knew a lot of secret camp spots over there that might just work for the shot I was after. At this point I had been driving for the better part of 27 hours over the last day and a half, so I rested for a spell before I pointed the van in the opposite direction and launched back into the chaos.
I exited the park through the west entrance and took highway 191 north towards Big Sky. The road became quiet and peaceful again. A little ways after you pass the turnoff for Earthquake Lake, the road begins to parallel the Gallatin River. The river is new here and you can literally witness her growth gaining momentum and strength down the canyon. Then you enter back into another isolated corner of Yellowstone that is absolutely gorgeous. This section doesn’t see very many visitors beyond a few hikers and fly fishers. The river continues flowing past ancient cliffs occasionally opening up to views of snow-covered peaks of the Gallatin Range. The tension and stress that I had been feeling back in the traffic-clogged roads of the park were quickly dissipating. A few minutes later I found my old spot. Just as gorgeous as I remembered and it felt so good to be there. I did a few quick calculations and realized this spot wouldn’t work either. Cliffs were in the wrong spot and there was a no camping sign. Deflated again, but I sat there for a few minutes enjoying the view and my memories. So much in my life has changed since the last time I sat there, but this wild place looks and feels exactly the same.
A few miles down the road I passed an interesting looking road. The sign said Taylor Fork Road. I had vague recollections of possibly camping there back in the day, but I couldn’t remember for sure. A few of the camp spots were open and they were really really nice camp spots…I could have stayed there for weeks, but guess what? They didn’t line up for astro shots. At the entrance to the canyon there is a really interesting spot where the canyon really tightens up and forces Taylor Creek to do some really magical things, so I pulled over and shot some long exposures of the water flowing over boulders. It was a very soothing place. Gorgeous, really. I probably should have just called it a day and set up camp, but I didn’t. I kept telling myself: “You’re here for a reason. You’re here to capture the best astro shot possible and this place just doesn’t really work.” Looking back, I should have stayed there that night. It’s definitely highlighted in my notebook for amazing future camp spots.
Gear/Exposure: Sony A7Rlll, Sony FE 100-400mm f/4.5-5.6 GM OSS Lens, ISO 100, 400mm f/10 @ 1.3 seconds
Panoramic of Taylor Creek in the Gallatin Mountain Range near Big Sky, Montana
The next two hours were probably as frustrating as the crowded roadways earlier in the day. Damn. Was that really the same day? It felt like 2 or 3 days had passed since I rolled into the park before dawn. All my old nuggets were off limits now. No camping signs everywhere. Back in the day it was like the wild west, which is why I loved it so much. After leaving Colorado because of crazy low water on the Arkansas River and moving to Montana, I felt like I was on a different planet. Hardly anyone around and camping was allowed everywhere. I guess it’s different now. I passed over Portal Creek as it flowed into the Gallatin River. Portal- now that will work! I had camped up there quite a few times. The road goes really far up into National Forest, so there should be a lot of open camp spots up there. Fingers crossed. It was starting to get dark now, so this was literally one of my last options before I ended up in the Walmart parking lot in Bozeman. There is absolutely no way I could let that happen. I started up the old mining road that parallels Portal Creek. It takes a few miles before you start hitting campsites. The creek is raging about a hundred feet or so below the road. I hit the first camp spot and it was open, so that gave me a lot of confidence to keep going. The sun was just starting to set behind me and the sky art just started going off. Vibrant colors everywhere. I pull up to a little camp spot overlooking a meadow full of wildflowers and a nice ridge line to the south. Done. THIS is home tonight.
Throughout the day, I bypassed 5 or 6 spots that might have been better, but that doesn’t matter now. I’m here and this place is home. No people, no light pollution, just a dinner date for two with me and Mother Nature. I ate a quick bite and then studied my map a little bit before laying down to take a nice nap before the stars came out. In a few hours the Milky Way will show up to the party. I woke after a couple of hours and opened up the side door. My jaw hit the ground and then I dropped a favorite expletive or two. The sky was black. The stars were on fire. I grabbed my gear and got to work.
The galactic center of the Milky Way in the Gallatin Range
The “perfect” spot that I had been looking for the last couple of days had to be free of light pollution, face south or southwest, and have some sort of interesting feature in the foreground. Every spot thus far either faced the wrong direction, was too close to civilization and was therefore polluted by light, or didn’t have any noteworthy foreground elements. My current spot was in the middle of nowhere and had great southern exposure. The stars were simply amazing. Foreground elements? Not so much. A ridge line with some trees, but it worked ok. Just being there, all alone, in the middle of nowhere was the reward. There is a peacefulness for me in these wild places under the night sky. It is spiritual. Looking at the galactic center of the Milky Way from this perspective is so powerful, it puts everything else into perspective. It does for me at least. The foreground of my scene wasn’t overly amazing, but I got all of the other goodies and I was happy.
I worked until about 3:30 AM or so and then took about a 2 hour nap. A perfect night transitioned into a perfect morning for a drive through the mountains. I stopped a few times to get out and admire my surroundings on the way back down to civilization. I played around with a few images of water flowing over and around beautiful boulders. The gorgeous colors of the rocks created such a great contrast with the water. And the water created such a great contrast with the lush vegetation on the banks of Portal Creek.
The plan for the day was to dip back into the park, traverse to the northeast entrance through the Lamar Valley, and then head over Beartooth pass from Cooke City to Red Lodge. This is definitely one of my favorite drives that I’ve ever done. It might even be the very first on the short list of favorite drives. Other notable ones for me would be Going-to-the-Sun-Road in Glacier National Park, the 101 in Southern Oregon from Brookings up to Port Orford. Kenosha Pass in Colorado in the fall heading south towards the Collegiate Peaks. And the Needles Highway in the Black Hills of South Dakota. Well, Iron Mountain Road is pretty noteworthy too, so these two South Dakota drives might be a tie. Anyway, Beartooth Pass is only open for a few months out of the year and is a total treat to drive over. Guaranteed smiles. When you get to the other side, you will ponder turning around and driving over it again. And if your schedule is open, you just might do it.
I stopped at a few favorite spots close to the summit of the pass to scout for some astro locations, as well as shoot some multi level panoramas with a new tool that I picked up from Really Right Stuff. There was still lots of snow at this elevation, so there were some skiers and snowboarders taking some cherished mid-summer runs.
Setting up for a multi row panorama above tree line on Beartooth Pass
Really Right Stuff Pano-Gimbal Head with Sony A7rIII and Sony FE 24mm f/1.4 GM Lens
Multi row panoramic shot of the Absaroka Beartooth Wilderness in Southwest Montana
The back side of the pass is equally as amazing as the front half. The pure expanse of wilderness here just makes you feel so small. You barely make it 1/4 mile between pullover stops. At one of these stops, I put on my long lens and just shot cars going around this incredible curve in the road. I sat there for a long time and from this vantage point, I could see this incredible looking road transcending up from the valley floor. It looked like it went right up into the clouds. I studied my gazetteer to figure out how to get to that road once I got to the bottom of the pass.
Taking a tight turn on Beartooth Pass near Red Lodge, Montana
Once I got the the bottom of the pass, I found the road I was looking for pretty quickly and began another adventure. The road passed through a couple of really sweet campgrounds and then started gaining elevation. It was a pretty rough road, so going was very slow, but that’s the kind of action I love. The road kept going up and up and up. Every once in a while there would be a creek crossing, a couple of which required some class V moves around some decent sized boulders. I definitely needed 4 wheel drive by this point. I came across some really incredible camp spots, some taken and some not, but all totally wild and free. The van was crawling now, but I kept going as the view just kept getting better and better. Really incredible and almost other-worldly. I’m not really sure how many miles I went, but it took me about 2 hours to find the sweetest little camp spot I've ever seen. I parked right next to a high alpine pond and was a stone's throw from a raging creek. On the other side of that, a mountain literally flowed from the creek to the sky. I felt small. Nobody around for miles. Totally quiet except for the creek. No wind. Blue skies with interesting clouds. Perfect.
I put my chair down next to the pond, had a snack, and then made some notes about the shot I wanted to get later tonight. New moon tonight and I had the most perfect ridge line right in front of me. Zero light pollution forever from this location. This shot was going to be amazing. This is why I drove this far- this is why I abandoned my first destination in Yellowstone. It all made sense.
About an hour later, some really low clouds started moving in. It made for some really incredible shots. It just kept getting thicker and thicker. I thought it was quiet before, but this was surreal. It was like somebody hit the mute button. Visibility was really low. I could barely just see to the other side of the creek and that was about it. I was pretty high up in elevation so the clouds got close enough to touch. I thought they would break in an hour. That hour passed. Maybe another hour? Ugh. This was how it was going to be? Then all of a sudden during dinner, the clouds started breaking up. The sun was low in the horizon and the clouds broke at the most perfect time. I rallied to get some time-lapses of an interesting peak down the valley. I shot for all of about 15 minutes and then the clouds rolled back in. That was it. It was so fast. I was stoked for what I just captured, but a little deflated about the aspects for tonight’s shoot. Oh well, if that’s all I would get that day, I was happy with it. I was content. I laid down for a little bit and accidentally fell asleep.
I woke about 11pm with anticipation. Still cloudy. Went back to sleep and woke up about 1am. Still cloudy. The third time was a charm. At about 2:30am the clouds were starting to break and you could see little windows of stars starting to peak through. I started setting up all my gear. I worked for about an hour. Unfortunately, I had missed the perfect arc over the ridge line I had planned on getting because the Milky Way was obscured by clouds at that time.
High up in the Absaroka Beartooth Wilderness at 3:32 AM on July 3rd, 2019
I wanted to get up the road a little bit to clear some trees from my foreground that I didn’t really like. I didn’t go far- maybe 300 ft or so. I took a couple of test exposures and then I heard this noise that made my heart jump and my arm hairs stand to attention. Right across the creek, there was loud movement on the rocks, probably a quarter of the way up, but not far from me. I couldn’t see as it was pitch black to the naked eye. I stared so hard. Something big was moving across the boulders. And then it got quiet. I stood there totally frozen. Staring at the spot where the sound had originated, but I couldn't see a damn thing. The next 30 seconds or so felt like a year. I just stared, not wanting to move. Well, I wanted to just transport from my current spot to the inside of the van…I just didn’t want to have to cover the distance to actually get there. And then it started moving again and a very large boulder came crashing down the ridge. And then another. I could hear them smash from one rock to the next until they hit the creek. I grabbed my gear and hightailed it back to the van. As I was running, I could hear my new friend running across the rocks as well…not towards me, but we were definitely moving at the same time. When I got back to the van, I grabbed a bigger flash light and I put it on the hillside, scanning back and forth, but whoever was there a little bit ago was gone now.
The beginning of the transition from night to day in the Absaroka range at 4:16 AM on July 3rd, 2019
I stayed close to the van for the next hour or so. Working different compositions and varying my exposure. It had been a crazy last few days and I just really wanted to sleep for a day or so, but I was up and that adrenaline jolt from an hour ago was still doing its thing. Around 4 AM, a little hint of light started creeping in to frame. I love this time of day when you still get the vastness of the night sky, but details begin to awake in the landscape. I worked until about 5am and then decided it was time to start heading for home. Navigating the boulder garden on the way down seemed to take FOREVER. Isn’t that always the truth when you’re heading home? I stopped once on the way down for an Aspen grove shot and then again a little while later for a delicate little waterfall cascading down a vertical wall high up above the valley floor. The drive that day was a long one. I drove all day and rolled into my driveway at about 10:30 or 11 PM, kissed my wife and kids, and then crashed. Morning came early, but I was ready to go eat some aebleskivers at 8:30 the next morning. They were so worth it. Times ten.
Reflecting on this trip, it’s important for me to understand that my longing for perfection, my desire to find the perfect location and create the absolute best shot, kept pushing me forward. This is definitely not the first time that’s happened. I’ve wondered in the past if this is a positive or a negative force. Should I just be content and work with what I have? Or should I roll the dice? That force has gotten me stuck a few times high up in the Rockies on roads that I probably shouldn't have been on in my 1986 Subaru. I knew I should have turned around, but I just kept going. Time and time again. Every one of those times lead to an interesting adventure. I really needed to see what was waiting for me around the next bend. It has also left me high and dry in the middle of the Eel River in northern California. I tried to cross a section of dry river in a Nissan Maxima. Needless to say, I didn’t make it very far. I slept on the banks of the river that night totally expecting to wake up and see my car being swept away by a surge in the river. That next morning I had to ride my bike about 20 miles to the closest place I came to, which was a small diner, where there happened to be a tow truck driver eating breakfast. It took a huge chunk of my money, but he got my car out of the river that morning. Or the time I ran out of gas near Ophir, Oregon…or the time my ’67 Chevy van broke down just shy of the Canadian Border. I’ve got a really long list of those adventures and every one of them has taught me a lesson about instinct or trusting my gut or sometimes it has simply just lead to an amazing adventure. I certainly might have gotten amazing, portfolio-worthy shots if I had just stuck to my original plan and worked Yellowstone that first night, but I would have missed out on the most exciting moments of that trip. My desire to keep going, to keep pushing forward has always gotten me to a more note-worthy spot. Maybe I get the best shot, maybe not, but it has always created a better story than the one I would have had if I just stayed put. I am thankful for this force that keeps propelling me forward. I am thankful for all of the adventures and rewards and stories and experience and lessons it has taught me over the years. And I honestly can’t wait for the next adventure when I push things just a little bit further.