Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.


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Under an umbrella of stars

A few days ago 3 other intrepid women photographers and I ventured forth to a new destination, Big Sable Lighthouse, at Ludington State Park.

The four of us plus puppy Wally walked out to the beach as the sun set.

We were, of course, looking for a dark place to shoot the Milky Way. We are all members of an online Milky Way photography class, though most of us had never met in person.

It was a beautiful pink and gold and navy evening.

We put this particular adventure together quickly, with a barrage of text messages flying between us, when we realized there was a clear night coming up. Then, the day before, someone did some research and messaged the group — “Do you know there’s a 2 mile walk out to the lighthouse?”

We’re headed up there.

Uhhhh, no, no we did not know that. This caused a bigger flurry of messaging and then someone finally just booked a campsite for us all at the park and we decided to go for it.

We had a beautiful night for our adventure, and the walk was shorter from the campground than from the lighthouse parking lot, only 1.5 miles through the woods and dunes. And of course 1.5 miles back in the dark, but underneath a star packed sky.

It’s a grand building, big enough to house 3 keeper’s families, back in the day.

Our biggest obstacle turned out not to be the getting there but the lights that surround the lighthouse. There is a big streetlight shining in front, and an obnoxiously orange light in back making the whole back of the lighthouse and most of the grounds glow neon.

Our first glimpse of the challenges that would be presented.

According to our apps the Milky Way, now pretty vertical, would be right alongside the tower about 10 p.m. We were convinced it would be a stunning shot.

Taken with my cell as we waited for dark skies.

If it weren’t for the orange light…and that big tree.

It became obvious to us as we waited that we weren’t going to get that dream image.

So we did the best we could with the lighthouse itself and then we spread out across the beach looking for other interesting things.

The Milky Way was up there, but faded out by all the light.

There was a gentle breeze sweeping away the bugs and the stars were hanging above us and no one was in any kind of hurry to leave.

Even down closer to the lakeshore the light was overpowering.

When we finally did begin to pack up around midnight I noticed my backpack was pretty wet from condensation. I began to realize the trouble I had had focusing on the stars, or anything for that matter, might have been because I had condensation on my lens.

I walked way out into the dunes and shot out over Lake Michigan. That’s a fishing boat down near the bottom left.

Condensation which would have been eliminated if I had put my lens heater on the camera at the start. The lens heater I bought the week before and lugged 1.5 miles out to the beach, but left in my backpack.

Sometimes you just have to go right up to your target.

Yep. One more lesson in a whole list of lessons I’ve learned on this Milky Way journey.

Another lesson – when you’re focused in one direction don’t forget to turn and look the other way once in awhile.

As a side note, there’s been quite a bit of death tangent to my life this past week. Not people directly tied to me, exactly, but people important to people important to me. I guess the heavens gained a few more stars.

A few more stars twinkle this week.

Late that night while listening to the lake murmur and wandering the dunes, watching the Milky Way slide across the sky I noted the newcomers.

And then we all walked back to camp under the umbrella of the starry night, content in our imperfect images, happy that we went, ready to do it again the next clear, moonless night.

Imperfect perfection.