Jacob and I went for a walk last night around the neighborhood and noticed how clear the sky was. Luckily, we live a short drive away from dark sky, so when it’s clear enough with city light pollution that the Milky Way starts to be visible, we hop in the car. Capturing a moonrise with stars and no layering is a difficult challenge. While these aren’t all the pictures from last night, I wanted to share a few of them.
For planning dark sky photography I use a couple websites:
The majority of dark sky locations have insufficient GPS/cell service to use my constellation sky map app, so I can’t recommend it at this time. That’s not a bad thing. Maybe with their next update I’ll include it in another dark sky post. Plus, it was a paid app and I’m currently trying to recommend free services.
5 October 2020 – Early Evening Photography
The view that the Stardome tool produces is a bit off since the place where we stood on the surface of the earth is not Milwaukee, but it gave us a bit of an idea of what we were looking at. I hope this helps as a reference guide for some of the photographs below.
For the month of October 2020, Mars is visible to the east in the early evening sky. On 5 October we photographed Mars with a rising 87% waning gibbous moon.
To the north of the moonrise over the mountain crests a cluster of stars is visible. I believe these may be part of the Taurus constellation containing Aldebaran and the Hyades star cluster, but it is important to note that I am a novice and that is most certainly washed out by light on the horizon.
Post processing of dark sky photos allows for the revealing or obfuscation of information within the photograph. I’ll include a second processed version of the above photo as an example.
Due east and more visible in this next picture is the red color of Mars. We attempted to use a telephoto lens to reduce the exposure and focus on the unique aspects of the trees in front of the moon, but ran into an issue of condensation as the temperature and humidity started changing rapidly.
One of the fascinating things about taking pictures during a moonrise was that I was constantly adjusting the exposure time to prevent starlines/streaking. Before the moonrise exposure time was at 8 seconds and after moonrise I reduced this down to 3.2 seconds. One of the streakier examples is shown below.
One of the incredible things about taking a camera out at night and pointing it in a direction, then setting the aperture open is just how much you can see.
At less than 3.2 seconds the darkness of the shot makes it hard to make anything out without post processing.
At greater than 5 seconds once the moon had risen the star lines were intolerable.
But that moonrise? Beautiful. Except I’m dealing with noise – that’s all the weird blotchy discoloration instead of there being a smooth transition across the sky.
The above image is the one I posted to Instagram. The noise issue is one that Adobe Lightroom handles well, but Instagram amplifies.
It can be seen here too. Look along the bottom edge.
In future posts I look forward to exploring some apps for editing dark sky photos on the go, and ranking based on which ones make the same pictures that start out looking like mostly void and partially stars the best.
In the meantime, if you enjoyed this post and want to see more dark sky photos please like, comment, and share. I have a lot of photos to edit and play around with, plus I enjoy getting out and taking new ones. I’m excited to try and get some aurora pictures this winter.
Thanks for reading 💕
If you would like to use any of our photos from this post:
For unpaid projects, simply credit us by linking back to this website.
For paid projects please send me an e-mail and we can exchange a fair use contract with more details.
Content Warning: this piece discusses the death of a child and is based on a true story that took place almost a hundred years ago. For those wishing for a soundtrack while reading, I recommend this.
It rained that day in Bonaventure. The men in linen raincoats slicked with wet wax pried her blue and purple infant from her arms with kind eyes as they stood by the gravesite. He never cried. His eyes scrunched shut and mouth hung open to reveal white gums and a tiny receding purple tongue that never knew her breast. His little hands balled into stiff rigor mortis – the same little hands that once pressed through her skin to feel his parents’ palms. The wood and hammered metal wheelchair creaked beneath her in the gusting wisps of distant thunder carried on harried fat dollops of weather.
It was time to say goodbye.
Having never taken a breath of the sweet earthy air, she knew he only ever lived inside her. Her eyes hesitated on his blue lips. A different blue than the eyes she knew he must have beneath those unopened angelic lids. She imagined how if they had fluttered open she could have seen…
“Anna, it’s time to go.” The captain clasped a firm hand on her shoulder. “You have to say goodbye.” His body trembled, but his feet remained firm in the soggy ground.
Ever the polite grave diggers at Bonaventure – their patient spades waited for the captain’s call. To have her baby’s birth documented at all was a luxury. In the eyes of the state of Georgia and the city of Savannah, he never existed. At least Bonaventure gave her and her husband the dignity of recognizing the agony of her feverish labor after carrying her child for all those months; the right to mourn after knowing him all that time only to lose him before ever hearing his scream of life or giving him a name on paper.
In the distance, a bird flew into a patch of blue sky over the ocean on the blue-gold horizon beyond the mouth of the Wilmington River. Another drop of water hit her as she gazed over her child’s face once more. Her hand grazed the place on her stomach where she felt his final kick before the labor began – where she saw his little foot press through her skin. She let go – her tears hidden by the rain.
The men wrapped his little form in a thin damp cloth dusted with perfumed talc from a pouch on one of the digger’s belts. Smudging dirt on his forehead, the digger knelt and placed her unknown son as if asleep into the soft soil of the small pit. Beneath the morning clouds, the scene took on a light blue glowing hue. She closed her eyes and began to hum the lullaby she’d sung to him every night since she’d first felt his presence as the captain’s jerk of the chair indicated him turning away and processing along the ground. The exhaustion hit her again with a wave of nausea. Her baby boy gone forever as if he was never there at all.
In Bonaventure’s records they added:
1929 – Baby B— – Stillborn
If you want to read more, keep an eye out for future additional updates and excerpts from ‘Little Earthquakes In The Sea’.Liking, commenting, and sharing all helps me know which posts my readers prefer. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this today!
Lo had a medical appointment in San Francisco, and normally we’d fly there (sometimes there are even direct flights) and stay with friends, but these are not normal times. As if a global pandemic weren’t enough, the whole west coast has apocalyptic forest fires and apocalyptic air quality, so we brought along our whole-house air filter in the back seat:
Lo: At least I got to take some pretty pictures while we drove and take advantage of my love of photography and composition as a type of story telling.
Here’s Red Rock, Montana in a drive-by black and white.
Jacob: Heading south on I-15 we passed something that looked like a dozen McMansions jammed together. Turns out it’s the headquarters of a shady multi-level-marketing company.
Lo: Except they claim to not be that shady. That’s the fun part about all of these. Every one always claims to be better than the other. Every poison less toxic. Every one ignoring the rules around dosage dependency.
Jacob: This was the last blue sky we’d see for a long while.
Jacob: The charger we stopped at in Twin Falls was right next to the Snake River bridge and visitor center. It was incredibly smoky. The landscape here is beautiful, but felt so alien under an orange sky.
Lo: When we made it to Twin Falls we decided to stop and actually look at the Snake River. It’s this beautiful green color slithering its way through a deep gorge in the Idaho plateau.
Lo’s mom and her siblings lived here as children. She told us upon seeing this picture that this is not the original Perrine bridge. She remembered, even though it has been over 50 years. Human memory is amazing.
This is the eighth highest bridge in the United States with an elevation above sea level of around 3,600 ft (1,100 m), and an approximate height of 500 ft (150 m) above the Snake River. Idaho is an optical illusion – it’s flat because it’s the top of the plateau.
Yeah, that little dot is the sun.
We passed by this strange fence facade again. We’ve drive by it a few times – before on our way to Rigby for the solar eclipse. Lo was happy to grab a picture of some of the more unique features of the drive.
Jacob: This was one of the longer and more desolate stretches of drive – US 93 from Twin Falls to Elko. Most of the drive was on interstates, but sometimes you just can’t get there from here…
On the second day the road out of Elko felt like it could have been endless.
Power lines stretch across the desert and yet traces of agricultural activity and taps into aquifers are still obvious amongst the windblown landscape.
We pulled off the highway in the Nevada desert and drove around a little. This is the smallest underpass I’ve ever seen, barely wide enough for one car at a time.
Jacob: I have to wonder if they put up the sign just in case, or in response to someone escaping…
This was just a few doors down from the charger in Lovelock, NV. It was very convenient to access, just off the highway, but the town has seen better days. This yard and garden must have been beautiful once. The house itself was once a lovely, small two story.
I guess this exit just doesn’t have any capacity right now.
We missed the sign, but apparently there had been a rock slide?
For those that know Lo, there’s a hidden message she’s been trying to catch a picture of for years and finally succeeded.
At the Truckee charger a dog lounged and slept in the parking lot while his owner sat and picnicked nearby. Would not be moved for cars – nope, nope.
The Donner Summit rest area picture has no filters. That’s the color of the light filtering through the smoke.
So of course we looked up what in the world was going on. And… Oh. That makes sense.
There were *a lot* of portapotties along I-80. We suspect this might be due to all of the rest stops in Nevada along I-80 having been closed.
We got to Vallejo and wandered around the parking lot while the car charged. Here Lo managed to snag a few pictures.
We saw no shortage of interesting vehicles on our journey. Some chose unique intimidation tactics to keep other cars out from in front of them on the highway.
Our AirBnB in Richmond, California had the unpleasant surprise of a broken window. We managed to create somewhat of a seal and set up the air filter. It had the lovely benefit of a garden with citrus trees hanging over the fence.
Even the caution signs have opinions in California.
While in Richmond we did see a pack of wild turkeys taking over an Arco. Perhaps all of the humans staying home has lead to wildlife reclaiming its territory.
The sun continued on its tangerine and purple haze way.
And Back Again…
After the UCSF appointment we drove through the Castro. This was once our neighborhood.
Though there are many things we don’t miss about San Francisco, there are many things we do miss. There’s a sense of membership to a community here that is lacking in other places we’ve lived. This is where Jacob and I joined NERT. This is where we attended neighborhood watch meetings. A part of us will always be here.
It wouldn’t be the Bay Area without ridiculous and impractical, yet eye-catchingly hilarious furniture design. Seriously.
We saw a variety of interesting vehicles. This one might be an M1117? Someone that knows these better than we do, please confirm.
We ended up getting right behind the vehicle. These weren’t the only military vehicles we saw on the road being shipped places. Who knows where they’re going *shrug*.
By Tuesday afternoon, the air in San Francisco had finally started to clear up, just in time for us to leave. We had originally planned to head back Wednesday morning, but we both were itching to get home, and hitting the road Tuesday night let us get home a full day earlier. So off we went.
On I-80 on the way out of the San Francisco area, there was a brief traffic slowdown caused by, uh, this. Batteries can be scary if they catch fire, but not as scary as a gas tank…
As night was falling, we stopped to charge at a mall in Roseville, CA.
Lo got out and walked around. There are huge differences between the levels of permanency in the signage and overall social compliance to mask wearing and social distancing between California and Montana.
All around the stores were reminders to social distance, including Xs on the ground like one may mark up a stage for rehearsal.
Lo: An installation that struck me reminded me of The Freedom Of Speech Wall in Charlottesville, VA near where I went to undergrad.
What I Missed The Most:
Late Night Movies
The Bars 😦
My Wedding 6/6/20 😦
Jorge Angel-a (?)
andar con los compas
school and friends
CC and Damien
I miss go school
By midnight we were in Reno. The charger here was in a casino parking lot, so we had to maneuver through the disorienting maze that every casino town seems to be. So much neon…
Reno was a ghost town compared to its usual self. Admittedly, we’ve only been through a handful of times now, and we try to avoid stopping because of the crowds and traffic. Even the parking garages have the gates removed and no longer cost money. It’s surreal.
Lo: More like 1960s/70s with strong elements of preserved mid century Americana at its best in my opinion. The rooms were very clean (though we also did a surface/touch-point disinfecting for our own sanity). This place would be great to use for photoshoots and as a filming location. I should have taken pictures of the swimming pool!
We saw this truck in Nevada. Thanks to my trucker friends and those that are familiar with Cyrillic languages, it means “drivers wanted” or “drive for us.”
At one of our charging stops in Idaho the car hit its peak charge rate of 250 kilowatts – about the same as the average power usage of 200 houses.
It being September, the tunnel was not icy.
Lo: I find Nevada beautiful. I know the American desert isn’t exactly what most people think of as magical, but I’ve seen rainbows from thunderstorms over this desert. Extreme weather creates gorgeous landscapes. I’m not experienced enough at photography to capture lightning yet.
Into Idaho from Nevada farming gets interesting. The suspicion is that Lo really wanted a picture of that horse.
We’re welcomed back into Montana by this mansion of a fixer upper off of I-15. Lo keeps joking that she wants to move in.
Finally home! The smoke had followed us the whole way back, so we got the air filter back into the house in a hurry.
Jacob: After we got home I added up all the statistics for the drive. In just four and a half days, the total was:
2,449 miles driven
39 hours, 47 minutes on the road
705 kWh of electricity used by the car – as much energy as in less than 20 gallons of gasoline
20 charging stops at an average of 19 minutes each
We hope you enjoyed this whirlwind travel adventure post about driving to and from San Francisco in an electric car for a doctor’s appointment at UCSF. Road tripping during global pandemics is ill advised and we recommend anyone considering repeating this to take all necessary precautions to protect your own health and well being, as well as the well being of others.
Lo: If you want Jacob to author more posts, please drop a comment and leave a like. Let him know what kinds of posts you’d like to see.Your feedback is valuable ❤
If you see these photos posted elsewhere, please let us know. At this time a few are posted on Lo’s instagram, but mostly they are on this page only. Lo is still developing a unique watermark and is dealing with photo-stealing. If you would like to use any of these photos:
For unpaid projects, simply credit Lo and link back to this website.
For paid projects please send Lo an e-mail and we can exchange a fair use contract with more details.
One of the things I learned at my appointment at UCSF was that the failure for my right Achilles tendon to respond to one if the normal reflex triggers is because the tendon ruptured. I’ve been walking on a ruptured Achilles tendon for over a year. An injury I shouldn’t be able to walk on because for most people it should be too painful. I’ve been walking on it normally for over a year.
Having very high tolerance to pain is a strange thing. It’s not that I don’t feel the injury. My brain compartmentalizes sensations – tells me what can and can’t be extreme, therefore I shouldn’t worry about it. That funny feeling in my ankle? Well, it got a little red, but it never got super swollen. It never got “yo, your tendon is torn and needs to be surgically repaired, so stop using it.” I figured I was getting repeat minor sprains in my ankle.
But I’m not alone. Others have reported not feeling pain associated with the injury, even with full ruptures that render the ankle more severely damaged than mine. Professional athletes have made winning plays with this injury, completely unawares.
It explains why I kept rolling my ankle unintentionally and strengthening exercises weren’t helping to prevent it from happening on that side. My father is known for having the same kind of pain tolerance.
The same doctor that discovered this performed my lumbar puncture for my CSF analysis and donation. Even though I have high pain tolerance, it took longer than expected and more lidocaine than expected to numb the area for needle insertion between L3/4 (or was it L4/5?). Given I am also known for waking up during surgeries and remembering everything, I’m not bothered by it.
So I now have an acute awareness of having ruptured my right Achilles’ tendon in June 2019 and I’ve been walking on it this whole time. The pain has started to creep into the functional peripheries of my day from what was once just a “kind of weird off feeling.”
The more I walk on it, the more I realize that by the end of every day I can’t walk on it. I’ve been doing barre, running, going to the gym, climbing, hiking, gardening, carrying small children, and so much more while punishing myself for not being able to do more. For some reason I unconsciously convinced myself my ankle injury was “all in my head.”
That’s the update. My ankle hurts now – that level of awareness hit last night like a loony tunes piano and now I’m staying off of it. Doctor appointment over the phone on Monday to discuss. It doesn’t hurt if I don’t walk on it, so I’m not walking on it.
Sorry for the boring update. Stay tuned. Next week Jacob and I plan to release a series of joint posts we’ll be writing together and scheduling this weekend. One of which is a 2020 review of The Matrix. My 1917 Kodak camera finally arrived and can confirm that the lenses are fully intact for that upcoming post. The other is a detailed discussion of long haul road tripping in an electric car while socially isolating and trying not to get covid using the United States charging network. The posts I’m looking forward to most actually involve videos and write ups on The Radiator and Jacob introducing some exciting news around our adventures in lasers.
I’m not hyperlinking because the above is a teaser for those that made it through me bitching about my ankle.