It had been a long time since I set my alarm clock for 3:30am. But there was no way around it!
Sunrise was at 5:31am. I wanted to be on location, ready to start shooting, at 5:00am. If it took half an hour to hike to the overlook, I needed to be at the trailhead at 4:30am. Google Maps said it was a half hour drive to the trailhead, so that meant I had to set a departure time of 4:00am. And because I figured it would take half an hour to shake the sleep out of my eyes, get ready for the day, pack up some snacks, and put on my hiking shoes . . . I needed to set my alarm for 3:30am.
Just about everything went as planned. Amazingly, my friend Paul was able to get out early, too, and meet up at the Ragged Mountain Trailhead to join me for the photo excursion. (I guess I’m not the only crazy person in the world!)
Even though there was only a 42% chance of a good sunrise according to one app, I was pretty excited about the cloud cover predicted in another app.


As I thought about what my chances were for an epic sunrise, my main concern was the smoke from the Canadian wildfires. They were a two sided coin. On one side, the extra atmosphere they would provide could enhance the golden hour light, making things look more golden. But if it was too thick, it would obscure the direct light of sunrise, and prevent anything from looking nice at all, just like a heavily clouded day.
I guess the only way to find out was to get to the overlook, on time, and see what God had in store for us!
As we made our way up the trail in the dark, I caught a glimpse of the eastern horizon through the leafy trees. There was a sliver of fuchsia pink. A good omen for a clear horizon!
Some unexpected logistical delays and a ton of recently downed trees on the trail hampered our ability to arrive as early as I was hoping. But with about 15min till sunrise, we arrived, panting and expectant, at the small outcropping of rock above a perfectly still lake. If the sun broke through the smoke, it was going to be an epic spot!
I started by snapping some proposed compositions without a tripod at astronomically high ISOs.
First composition idea, intentionally including foreground:

Maybe a bit too much foreground.
I got closer to the edge, so I could see more foreground and create the illusion of depth:

This could work. It would be my go-to angle if the sky started getting colorful.
But there was still something not quite right with it. There’s not a prominent foreground anchor.
So I got down closer to the rocks:

But, no. Getting so close to the rocks meant getting down low. And the lower I got, the less middle ground there would be visible in the photo. It wasn’t working. At least with this particular rock.
So I looked around for some other rocks:

I wanted rocks that had obvious shape to them. I’m often looking for rocks that can work as leading lines into the frame. Also, I’m always on the lookout for rocks with clear shape, dimension, or interesting textures or patterns, like lichen, on them.
At this point, though, before I could really settle on which rocks would be best to use, the sky started to color up. The sun had arrived on the horizon, and the smoke was playing it’s part beautifully!
I set up my tripod to capture my last composition idea in full definition:

I studied the image carefully, trying not to let my excitement over how well things were going to distract me from the art of purposeful composition.
“Still not enough middle ground. And the trees are blocking the sun.”
I stepped back, close to where I had framed up composition 2 idea. The sun peeked over the horizon, and I took what I knew would be one of my best shots from the morning.

Below the Smoke
Ragged Mountain Memorial Preserve, Connecticut
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For some variety on the scene, I asked Paul to step in and be part of the unfolding sunrise. If you can’t find a good rock to use in the foreground, find something else!

And lastly, before the sun left the beautiful sliver of open sky on the horizon, I moved over to one final composition to see what a little extra framing might do to the photo.

Soon after, the sun stepped behind stage, bidding us farewell for the day . . . and I’m sure it departed with a smile for having “made the day” for two excited, sleep-deprived terrestrial observers. ๐



In the end, that smoky Ragged Mountain sunrise became more than just a collection of imagesโit was a reminder of why we wake up early, hike in the dark, wrestle with foregrounds, and chase fleeting moments of color. Every step of the morning, from the 3:30am alarm to the final frame before the sun slipped behind the haze, sharpened my eye and deepened my appreciation for thoughtful composition. Sometimes the best lessons come from being out there, experimenting, adjusting, and responding to whatever the landscape offers. And on this particular morning, the combination of atmosphere, timing, and a bit of shared adventure made the creative process just as rewarding as the photographs themselves.
“The day is Thine, the night also is Thine: Thou hast prepared the light and the sun. Thou hast set all the borders of the earth: Thou hast made summer and winter.” โPsalm 74:16-17





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