Settings: Nikon D3300 – 18mm – f/10 – 1/2500s – ISO 200
Hey, folks. If you’re into photography, you’ve probably heard of the golden hour. It’s those fleeting moments just after sunrise or before sunset in which light is seemingly redder, casting everything in a wonderful, warm glow. This effect is a combination of how human eyes perceive the visible light spectrum, and how sunlight is filtered through Earth’s atmosphere based on its location relative to a given latitude. It’s pretty awesome when you take a step back and think about it. So many aspects of our world come together just long enough to produce something so brilliant every day. As a science, astronomy, and geography geek, I understand and appreciate this phenomenon in terms of the sheer mechanics involved.
As a world traveler, however…
One of my longstanding travel habits is photographing sunsets. Beaches, bridges, piers, etc. Whatever it takes, I will capture at least one before I leave. I could wax poetic about the virtues of enjoying a sunset: basking in the dying warmth, the slight breeze on your neck, the hum of a street lamp turning on, everything seemingly slows and quiets down, and that unspoken understanding that you’re one day older. But I’m sure you already get it. Sunsets are among those few, great experiences that transcend language and culture. That’s not just some cheesy sentiment, by the way. If you don’t believe me, try visiting a major tourist destination or beach during the golden hour.
I did exactly that during my recent trip to Oahu. Waikiki is one of the most famous beaches in the world, and for good reason; it’s got excellent water, sand, and skyline, all just across the street from the amenities of a major city. On the other hand, it’s horrendously crowded and noisy. It’s not the kind of place I’d normally stay. But I found myself there on what would be the most beautiful evening of the entire week. I and about a couple dozen other photographers crowded onto Waikiki’s iconic Kapahulu Groin, then eagerly waited for the inevitable.
I crouched on part of the ledge, wary of the waves thundering just a few feet below. I browsed through my camera’s options and set them to capture more reds at a higher speed. If I timed it perfectly, I’d be able to get both the sunset and a wave just as it would crash into the wall. Silently, I regretted leaving my tripod back at the hotel. I hadn’t planned to be in Waikiki when I had left that morning. Looking back, I now wish I’d known about Light, a new company that have designed a new compact camera that excels in low-light conditions, has adjustable field depth, and built-in editing features. As much as I love my DSLR, crouching precariously over a sea wall while holding a huge camera to your face isn’t easy.
It was worth the effort, of course.The images I captured were gorgeous, though they came at a cost; just after the last glimmer of sun vanished over the horizon, an especially large wave swept up to the pier and drenched several of us. We all exchanged a few sheepish glances and a laugh. For that brief stretch of time, we left the rest of the world and its problems behind. There were only us and that pier. When it was over, we looked over each others’ shots, did a little networking, and parted ways. One by one, our shared experience ended, each person walking off into the night. Yes, it felt a little tragic. But thanks to my camera, the memory of that golden hour will never be forgotten.
Polymathically 