I remember a day in 2010 or 2011 when all the headlines were hyping up an opportunity to see a “supermoon”. I had only an average interest in astronomy at the time, but nonetheless, I took this as an excuse to go out that evening with my camera in tow. While I’d love to tell you that what followed was some life-altering moon photography session, this was not the case. As it turns out, there is nothing discernibly unusual about a supermoon compared to any other full moon and with no prior experience in this type of photography, all I captured was the all-too-familiar bright blotch in a dark frame and headed home. 

I arrived back at my house, but before calling it a night, I plunked my tripod down on the deck, blindly aimed my camera toward the woods at the back of the yard, and took a 30 second exposure into the night. To my utter shock, the resulting photo looked like it had been taken in the middle of the day! This one little off-the-cuff experiment fundamentally changed my understanding of the dark and how, just because our eyes can’t detect any light, doesn’t mean it isn’t there. Suddenly the ability of certain animals to navigate in what we perceive as total darkness made perfect sense – their eyes have capability to gather light that human eyes cannot…and so does a camera.

Towards the end of 2011, my wife and I moved to a rural area outside of Fredericton with very little light pollution – but I didn’t know that yet. It would be another five years before I realized this, as the house came pre-equipped with what is known as a Dusk ‘Til Dawn light – basically a street light that is situated right on your property. Under its awful orange glow, I would take my dog outside night after night, unaware of what lie overhead. Finally, on one fateful night in 2016, that light burned out and for the first time, I truly saw the night sky. More stars than I’d ever seen; the milky way visible right from my driveway. Needless to say, that outdoor light has remained out of service and with a dark sky playground quite literally at my doorstep, my night time photography journey began.

Photography in general has introduced a clear objective into the time I spend in nature. Where I used to pop in the earbuds, tune out the world, and walk the same stretch of road on autopilot, I now keep all of my senses online. I follow my curiosity to explore what’s up that hill or down that trail. Every brief walk, long hike, and highway drive has turned into a quest in search of the next vista or viewpoint worth shooting. 

Night sky photography specifically has really changed two things for me. The first is that I am fully present when I am out under the stars. I generally do these shoots by myself and once the camera is up and running, all that is left to do is wait. These are very quiet moments, being still and listening only to the sounds of the night – the crickets and frogs, the breeze in the trees, the water lapping on the shore, and the ice shifting and cracking.

The second thing that has changed is my relationship with the seasons and the lunar cycle. Earlier December sunsets mean longer nights under the stars and the return of the winter constellations like Orion and Gemini. The return of the Milky Way core in the wee hours of a February morning is the first sign that spring is on the way. Dark clouds rolling in at the end of a sweltering July afternoon means the possibility of chasing lightning. Fall brings those comfortable nights that are not too late, with lovely temperatures and free of mosquitos. Every month, I plan different types of photos around the times when the moon is full and when it is new. There is a natural rhythm to it all and always something on the horizon to look forward to.

There is a huge, open field at the end of a woods road close to my home. It’s one of my favourite places to view the night sky. One night in July of last year, I headed to the field in hopes of catching a bit of aurora, but arrived to see hundreds and hundreds of fireflies. Fireflies in every direction twinkling as far as the eye could see. The sky was mostly clear overhead, but in the distance, a bank of clouds on the western horizon was also flashing. Lightning and fireflies at the same time: truly unforgettable.

On one hand, eclipse photography involves a lot of the same skills and knowledge as night time photography. You still need to predict the position of the sun and moon in the sky, where they will be in relation to the rest of your scene, and consider how they will be moving over the course of the afternoon. 

There are, however, some seemingly trivial details when working in the daylight that have turned out to be real logistical hurdles. For one, I’ve been really surprised by how difficult it is just to focus the camera lens when the entire camera is backlit by the sun and the afternoon light is reflecting off the screen. Another puzzle is that I plan on using a motorized tracking mount to keep the camera pointed at the sun for the duration of the eclipse. For this device to function properly, its axis of rotation has to be aimed perfectly north. At night time, this can be done easily using the star Polaris as a reference point, but when you can’t see the stars, alternative alignment procedures need to be learned and practiced. 

Lastly, night sky photography is typically not a very fast-paced activity. There is usually an opportunity to take one’s time and work methodically. At the moment when totality occurs during a total solar eclipse, things get frantic. There are solar filters that need to be removed and there are settings that need to change all within a matter of seconds. There is also quite literally only one shot at this, so much of my preparation has been about getting as familiar and comfortable with the process as possible keeping me free to experience the eclipse with my own senses, rather than getting completely lost in the photography.

The good news is that you need only your eyeballs and a dark sky to enjoy astronomy at a basic level. It doesn’t cost anything! Look up, and New Brunswick is rich with dark skies areas. One thing I’d recommend is to introduce a bit of direction into an evening of stargazing or photography by downloading one of the many night sky reference apps onto your smartphone (I use one called Sky Guide).

Practice locating and/or photographing specific things in the sky such as a particular constellation or planet. Choose a target before heading out and challenge yourself to find it unaided. If you can’t, no sweat. Most of the apps have an augmented reality mode where you can look around the sky through your phone’s camera to find your target. Not only does this introduce a goal into the activity, but it will help you slowly begin to see the night sky as more than just a unorganized mess of stars. It is both a map and a clock. 

Once you begin to see it as such, new ideas and objectives to observe or photograph on your future outings will form naturally.