Chasing Sunsets

Sunset is supposed to be this beautiful, relaxing time. I absolutely love sunsets - nothing matches the incredible light of sunset, especially just after the sun dips below the horizon, when the colors in the sky intensify. But make no mistake: for many photographers, sunset is a stressful time of day!

The best time of day to shoot pretty much anything is early in the day and late in the afternoon. "Magic hour" light. The low angle of the sun creates shadows that reveal shapes and textures, and the light is warm and beautiful. But once the sun heads for the horizon, it doesn't last long - so you have to be ready.

I had this vision of the salt flats near Amboy Crater: the white, geometric crusts glowing pink in the post-sunset light, the mountains in the background silhouetted against a colorful splendor in the sky... so I planned to shoot it during my recent trip to CA.

The first time I set out to capture this scene in my head, I had spent the afternoon wandering around nearby Wonder Valley, shooting abandoned cabins and mines. It was great - but I got so caught up in the myriad of shooting opportunities, that I realized a bit too late that the sun was going down fast, and I was miles from the salt flats. There were clouds in the sky - unusual for the desert - so I knew it was going to be a picture-worthy sunset. I had a choice: nix the salt flats and stay with the cabins - use a soft-pink-lit cabin as the foreground for a great sunset-cloud shot - or hit the gas and get my butt over to Amboy. Tough choice, since I knew I had a sure thing right where I was. But I already have pink-lit-cabin-cool-sunset shots, so I told myself that I wouldn't be lazy; I would floor it and head for my original destination.

After driving as fast as possible on a washboard dirt road across the valley, I hit the highway and sped through Sheep Hole Pass as fast as possible, slowing down only when the occasional car came into view. The sun started dipping below the mountains. The sun's rays shining up started lighting the bottoms of the clouds behind me. Damn! Driving faster, heart pounding... In the rear view mirror, I could see a gorgeous pink cloud dominating the sky right over the mountain ridge. Gorgeous. But don't stop. Almost there...

By the time I was halfway to Amboy, it was clear: I was going to miss it. The sun was well below the horizon, the clouds in the west were lit up, and the light was not going to last. Resigned to a mediocre-at-best sky-over-mountain-ridge shot, I pulled over on the dirt shoulder, grabbed my camera and tripod, and ran toward the mountains to a better vantage point. The light was changing rapidly - better just set up and take the damn shot now, or I'll have nothing at all from this. Snapped a few frames, and the light was gone. Clouds turned a pallid grey. I didn't get to the salt flats in time, and I missed what was surely an excellent shot back in Wonder Valley.

The next time, a few days later, I was determined: there were great clouds in the sky, it was going to be an excellent sunset opportunity, and I would make sure to be in the right place at the right time. I drove straight to the salt flats, scouting out the location beforehand. Once that was complete, I shot around nearby Roy's Cafe for awhile. As the sun got lower in the sky, I knew it was time. The sky was perfect: clouds everywhere to reflect that colorful glow.

I headed toward the salt flats, optimistic and confident. Got out of the car, headed to a good spot on the dry lake bed.... and noticed the band of heavy cloud cover on the horizon. The sun started dipping below those clouds before it had a chance to set. This did not bode well for intense color! Then the wind suddenly picked up. I turned to face east and saw it: the wall of dust being kicked up by intense winds that were blowing across the flats - right at the time of sunset - and it was heading my way. Fast. That wasn't normal cloud cover the sun was ducking behind - it was a dust cloud!

Shielding my camera from the flying sand and trying to keep my tripod steadied in the wind, I waited as long as I could just in case, magically, some color might appear over the clouds - some last rays of hope as it were. It was not meant to be. With the sun fast disappearing behind the clouds and the wind's intensity kicking up to the point where I was being riddled with flying pebbles, I grabbed the tripod, camera still attached and legs still extended, and bee-lined it for the car, running straight into the wind.

Just as I crested the bank that separates the road from the dry lakebed, I looked up and saw the wall of sand stretching from one horizon to the next - and it was heading straight for me and my car. At that moment, the wind knocked me off the bank and I skidded back down to the crusty salt bed. I noticed an opening in the bank to my right, and quickly scrambled to the road and sprinted for the car. Wedged the door open, threw the camera and tripod into the back seat (again, still attached), and thrust myself into the car. Door slammed shut behind me. Over my panting, I could hear the insistent ticking of pebbles beating on the car. I looked around and the entire vista was obscured.

Somewhere, not far above this storm of wind and sand, the skies were ablaze with purple and orange clouds. But all I could see was grey.