As soon as we stepped out of the car in the parking lot the distant thunder caught our attention and I looked at my wife and smiled. Large thunderstorms just 24 hours earlier had swelled the Gooseberry River to massive proportions. The Lower, Middle, and Upper Falls at Gooseberry Falls State Park cascaded over rocks and fell up to a few stories, generating the giant sound that we were listening to. I glanced up at the full moon of the 2016 Summer Solstice, packed up my camera gear, and we set off for a moonlit stroll.
A full moon of the 2016 summer solstice at Gooseberry Falls State Park
You never know what you will see at night, and our first surprise was the clickity-clack of deer hooves on the cement trail. The doe was probably surprised to have such a late night visitor! Down the trail the gleaming eyes of a northern flying squirrel peered at us comically from the crotch of a birch tree. It was a unique treat to see the Northern Flying Squirrel since their activities are nearly 100% nocturnal.
Gooseberry Falls State Park has three primary water falls. After our short walk, the first that we came to was Middle Falls. The falls is easily the widest of the three, and the rush of water over the huge expanse crashed to the river bottom and drowned our ability to communicate easily. We shouted back and forth as the dark-brown water flowed furiously past. I took advantage of the light of the full moon and began to pull together my shots. From the Middle Falls we headed to the upper falls and ended at the lower falls at 2AM.
Upper Falls of Gooseberry State Park under the moonlight.
Middle Falls of Gooseberry State Park under the moonlight.
Middle Falls of Gooseberry State Park under the moonlight.
Middle Falls of Gooseberry State Park under the moonlight.
Middle Falls of Gooseberry State Park under the moonlight.
Middle Falls of Gooseberry State Park under the moonlight.
Middle Falls of Gooseberry State Park under the moonlight.
Lower Falls of Gooseberry State Park under the moonlight.
Two lovebirds at the lower falls of Gooseberry State Park
Lower Falls of Gooseberry State Park under the moonlight.
I love how the reoots of this cedar tree help set the scene at the lower falls of Gooseberry State park
The opportunity to photograph Gooseberry Falls at night was a unique one! I particularly like how the small rainbows showed up in many of the photographs, as I did not realize the moon was casting them until I went through the pictures. It was also amazing to consider that just a year ago I was enjoying solstice in another amazing (but totally different) part of the country. I hope you enjoy this unique documentary of a beautiful region!
By the time we reached Galbraith Lake, North Slope, Alaska, the low light of the solstice sun to the north was casting shadows on the peaks of the Brooks Range, which finally lay to the south of us after hours of driving. Although rain showers had passed through earlier in the day, the lingering clouds were just cotton in the sky, lit to the orange color of hot coils of a stove. Our trip was planned for three days, and our mantra was to have “nowhere to be, and all day to get there”! We observed, absorbed, and enjoyed the birds, flowers, and beauty of the Tundra during solstice. Due to the many photos from the trip, the results will be broken into two chapters, “Solstice, Solitude, Soliloquy”, and “Birds and Blossoms of the Tundra”. I hope you enjoy this first installment!
During the day we drove the Haul Road to various hiking destinations. A creek bed, a bird sighting, or a nice pull-off were all excuses to hike around and check out a new region. Although the road was busy with traveling semi-trucks and tourists, as soon as you walked away from the road the solitude was immediate. Few others hike around on the tundra at this time of the year, and its vast expanse ensures that even if they do, you do not have to see them unless you choose to. Since creek beds offer a natural hiking corridor through and around ankle twisting tundra humps, tussocks, we used them often. The small, bubbling rivers bottoms flowed through rockfields created by spring melts, and were just a fraction of their size during the melt a few weeks prior. However, flow was higher than normal for the time of year, as a snow storm just 10 days earlier fed them from the mountains. I was drawn to the colors and sizes of rocks on the stream beds, and the mountains behind them which birthed the running waters.
A small mountain stream runs out of the mountains south of Atigun Pass.The Haul Road runs over this stream, and is visible in this shot. Multple stream braids flowed into each other in small rapids.West of Atigun Gorge, this small pond is joined to Galbraith lake and reflected the still snow-covered peaks of the northern Brooks Range.The north edge of the Brooks Range was lit up each night in the low light of the midnight sun. What a scene!
At the end of each day we set up camp on the tundra, targeting soft patches of sphagnum moss for our sleeping pads. The mattress companies of the world should take note of the comfort of the tundra – it is unparalleled in soft-yet-supportive sleep. From our camp we took small hikes to check out the local flora and birds. The hikes always brought something new to see and experience. Near one of our camps we discovered this baby longspur (either a Smith’s or Lapland) on the tundra. It perched on the moss in the warm sun, and was likely waiting for food from its parent. Unable to escape, this baby bird’s instinct was to sit as still as possible. I snapped a few shots, and then stepped away so its parents could rejoin and feed it.
As we walked around each night I looked for settings to put up a solstice timelapse. The advantage of a timelapse over a single shot is to show the traveling path of the sun as it reaches the horizon and then curves back into the sky. Over the Brooks Range, being so far north, the sun stayed far above the horizon – it hadn’t dropped below the horizon there for over a month. This was in stark contrast to shooting at Finger Mountain about 15 miles south of the Arctic Circle where the sun just dipped below the curve of the earth. The resulting shots from each location have been fused together, and shown individually below. The lighting of the composite shots, in particular, I believe is very striking. Since each image is made of 8-10 shots over time, each plant has been lit from many angles. Because of this, extreme detail can be seen in each flower in the tundra foreground.
This solstice shot was shot June 21 – 22nd from Finger Mountain, about 7 miles south of the Arctic Circle. Smoke from the over 200 active wild fires in the state (at the time) came in from the south, staining the sky red.This composite timelapse shot was taken over 4.5 hours. Since this was shot just south of the Arctic Circle, the sun disappears behind the horizon at ~2AM.This solstice shot was taken from Galbraith Lake Campground. In the foreground, an Oeder’s Lousewort stands as a sundial.This composite makes the foreground of the tundra particularly epic. The small mountain avens that would be hid in a single shot really pop out when lit from many angles!
This solstice shot was taken June 20 – 21st, just west of Atigun gorge over camp for the night.
Our trip to the tundra was spectacular, but was not without its setbacks! Clouds of mosquitoes emerged about 10 PM each night, and were thick in the face, eyes, and back of the neck until we went to bed. However, during the night they receeded, and the mornings were quite pleasant again.Kassie, Jess and I at camp with the Brooks Range in the Background.
A trip to the Tundra will bring as much to experience as the eye can behold and the brain can perceive. I’m looking forward to the next chapter of birds and blossoms!
It’s incredible that one 36th of the year is already gone as I type this. Weren’t we just clinking champagne glasses as the ball dropped in New York just last night? As 2015 begins, I wanted to take the time to thank all who support this blog and my writing. I would not just write to myself; your comments and input are much appreciated!
I am incredibly thankful for my time here in Alaska. My travels have taken me to hundreds of miles south to enjoy the coastal ranges in Anchorage and Seward. In the opposite direction, I have beaten the punishing gravel of the haul road to cross the Brooks Range onto the Northslope three times. Within the Alaskan wilderness I have hunted big game, fished its rivers, and enjoyed bears, fox, and wolves, along with a plethora of bird species. During the dark skies of winter I have been graced by the dancing Northern Lights and cloaked in inky darkness. I have found there is always something to do in Alaska, and I feel that in the last 365 days I have had the adventures worthy of two year. It has indeed been a good year!
Below is a small gallery of the hundreds of photos that have been taken in Alaska during 2014 and featured in the blog. I have opted out of any captions, but if you would like to know more about an image, leave a comment. Thanks again everyone, and here’s to 2015!
There’s an unavoidable fact in Alaska these days: the days are long… really long! The summer solstice is a celebrated event by Fairbanksians and Alaskans in general. For weeks now the nights have been filled with light and bird song, but the coming of the Solstice means above the Arctic Circle the sun does not set. It spins in circles overhead and drops low on the horizon before ascending for another pass around the pole That’s what I went to see!
Eagle Summit, Alaska is located 50 miles south of the Arctic Circle. It’s surprising that the sun stays up all day fully above the horizon, but the elevation of Eagle Summit (3,624′) makes the sun refract higher than its actual position of 1.75 degrees above horizon (information from the BLM billboard at Eagle Summit pulloff)
My goal was to set up a long timelapse to capture the day and the swinging sun. The culmination of 13 hours of patient waiting captured the a low lying sun which seemed to go super-nova. Over the course of the day rain showers hung high in the atmosphere and refracted the sun which went from white to orange as it got closer to the horizon. At 2 AM the sun’s path bottomed out, and it began to swing high back into the sky changing back to white.
There was lots of time to explore the summit. Wildflowers were carpeted across the mountain top. Horned Larks and Northern Wheatears were common on the summit, and large marmots were always in vigilance somewhere. Northern Wheatears spend almost 8 months of their time migrating between India and Alaska. They raise their chicks on the tundra before migrating back, which is incredible!
A male northern wheatear watching over his summit at Eagle Summit.A horned lark sings for females on Eagle Summit.A female wheatear hunts for food.These marmots were common on the summit of Eagle Summit. They remind me of grizzled old men 🙂
As low sun was captivating – there was nothing else to do but watch it, and enjoy it. I saluted it made sure we were entertained by jamming out “three little birds” (video below) along with some other classic tunes on the Ukulele.
Singing and enjoying the low sun of the solstice.Kass and I enjoying the solstice sun at its low point – about 2 AM
