Kevin Palmer

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  • Even though 2019 was a very active storm season overall, it started quite late. It was well into June before there were any thunderstorms worth chasing locally. I caught up with this long shelf cloud on the plains outside of Broadus, Montana. When air cooled by rain hits the ground, it spreads out ahead of the storm. This lifts the warmer, moist air ahead of it, which condenses into a shelf cloud. They are usually associated with strong winds and heavy rain, but rarely tornadoes because they do not have the right shape.
    Hammond Shelf Cloud
  • Badlands are a type of terrain that experiences rapid erosion, estimated to be an inch per year at Badlands National Park. Much of that erosion happens during thunderstorms like this one. When the downpour first started I was disappointed because I didn’t get any shots of the storm structure beforehand. But then there was a break in the rain. It lasted just long enough for me to rush back to this overlook and capture the dark menacing clouds above surrounded by two blueish-green rain cores. Hidden in the ravine below were big horn sheep climbing the steep muddy terrain. The second wall of water hit even heavier than the first and dropped visibility to almost zero. A local told me they had never seen a spring with more rain. And they were right, 2019 was to become the wettest year on record in western South Dakota.
    Wall of Water
  • There was an outbreak of at least 3 tornadoes in southeast Wyoming. September tornadoes are very rare in this state. But 2019 has been a strange storm season, both starting late and ending late. This supercell north of Torrington developed a long inflow tail (aka a beaver tail) feeding moisture into the storm. It’s common to feel cool outflow winds coming out of a storm. But when you feel warm and moist inflow winds blowing into the storm that’s when you know tornado potential is high. These opposing winds help tighten up the rotation near the ground. The southeasterly winds were kicking up so much sand and dust I could feel it in my eyes, ears, and mouth. Because of poor ground visibility I didn’t get a very good view of the twister, but the structure was still impressive. When the sun came out it provided a stark contrast between the dark blue clouds and the bright golden grass.
    Beaver Tail and Bluff
  • I struggled to even get my car door open as dark clouds surged across the sky. Waves moving across the grass made it look more like an angry ocean than a wheat field. It would take a dozen tries in these strong outflow winds before I could get a picture that wasn't completely blurry. The storm seemed to be saying, "eat my dust," which got in my eyes and left them irritated the rest of the day. Minutes later this mountain would vanish, gobbled up by the shelf cloud. This chase at the end of June was probably my most intense of 2019. This supercell had it all: powerful lightning, large hail, hurricane force winds and a couple of tornadoes. The cell formed slowly at first in the Little Belt Mountains of Central Montana. But once it descended onto the plains, it was off to the races. I couldn't stop for more than a few minutes at a time before being overtaken again. It was well into Canada and North Dakota before it ran out of steam the next morning.
    Dusty Outflow Winds
  • I had to pull off of I-90 to shoot this distant view of a thunderstorm rolling out of the Bighorn Mountains. But I nearly got stuck on a muddy road.
    Where the Rain Falls
  • On this evening I headed up into the hills to watch lightning. The first storm that made me head out the door wasn't any good for pictures, since most of the lightning was intra-cloud. But then I watched another cell pop up to my south. As this updraft exploded into the starry sky, it started producing positive lightning strikes. Positive lightning accounts for 5-10% of all lightning, and is up to 10X more powerful than negative strikes with a peak discharge of 1 billion volts. It originates from the top of a thundercloud and travels through miles of air before striking the ground. Positive bolts can hit up to 25 miles away from the parent thunderstorm. These "bolts from the blue" are especially dangerous because people may assume they're a safe distance away from the storm when they strike.<br />
The night couldn't have been more perfect for watching lightning.A full moon helped to light up the landscape and gave the thundercloud a silver lining. I stayed in the same spot for hours as multiple storms followed the same path.
    Under Jupiter
  • On this day I headed up into the mountains with one goal: to capture the snow and fall colors together as two seasons collided. A snow storm occurring when the colors are at their peak is not something that happens every year. I wanted to be there the moment the storm ended and the sun came out, because fresh snow does not stay looking fresh for very long. Temperatures remained in the high 20’s all day and rime ice caused by freezing fog had coated the forest as well. The sun finally came out shortly after 5PM and then soon disappeared behind a nearby ridge. Aspen trees are not as widespread in the Bighorns as they are in other parts of the Rockies. Large clusters of them can be hard to find, but this stand across from Antelope Butte is one of the larger ones that I’m aware of. All the trees in an aspen stand are actually clones of one another. They are connected underground by a vast root system. This makes aspen trees some of the largest living organisms on Earth.
    Aspens and Snowy Cliff
  • The sun was only out for a couple minutes at sunrise before going behind a cloud. I didn't want to get any closer than this because the snow looked unstable on top of the cliff.
    Sunstar Dawn
  • While skiing the Pole Creek cross country ski trail, I came across this meadow. A tree in the middle cast a long shadow across the snow as the sun came out.
    Casting Shadows
  • While coming down from the Bighorn Mountains I was treated to a dramatic sunset ahead of an incoming snowstorm. The mostly hidden peak on the left is Darton Peak, with Peak Angeline in the middle. Both of them are over 12,000 feet high. I often wonder what it would be like to watch a sunset like this from the summit of a tall peak in the winter. One thing for sure is that it would be brutally cold. This picture almost didn't happen because I was in a rush to return my rental skis before the shop closed at 6:00. After taking this one last shot I made it there with 2 minutes to spare.
    Flaming Winter Sunset
  • The snow was very deep on this part of the Abisko River near the top of the canyon in Swedish Lapland.
    Upper Abisko Canyon
  • After taking the chairlift to the Aurora Sky Station in Swedish Lapland the aurora was unfortunately very weak. But it was a crystal clear night and the stars were still beautiful.
    Andromeda and Faint Aurora
  • It's not easy to find water that's not frozen in Abisko National Park in the winter. But the river was flowing fast enough here that the middle was kept ice-free.
    Cold Flow
  • After an auroral substorm, a corona formed at the zenith. A corona is a very fast moving type of aurora, where the rays appear to converge. But by the time I finished a time lapse and pointed my camera straight up, most of it was gone.
    At the Zenith
  • Even though the moon was bright, the aurora had no problem shining through. And the moonlight made for better pictures as it lit up the landscape.
    Above the Shaking Trees
  • I took advantage of the nice March weather by heading to a place called Castle Gardens. I love exploring places like this, well off the beaten path that few people know about or visit. It's an area of fantastic rock formations: bluffs and hoodoos, toadstools and arches. Even though it's not a large park, it's easy to spend a whole day exploring and the photography opportunities are almost limitless. But I had to be careful wandering at the edges of cliffs. Often what looked like a solid rock from above was actually overhanging several feet and supported only by crumbling sandstone below. The arch pictured here likely won't survive much longer; it's connected only by a 2 feet thick section of brittle sandstone.
    Castle Gardens Sunset
  • Deep within a canyon in the southern foothills of the Bighorn Mountains is found the Outlaw Cave. This area is rich with Wild West history and legends. Only a few miles away is Hole In the Wall, where Butch Cassidy and his gang used to retreat after robbing trains and hustling cattle. There is evidence that at least some outlaws used this cave for shelter, as well as Native Americans before that. The cave is only the size of a large room, barely high enough to stand up in. But it is well hidden from the canyon rim, and the proximity to the river allows for great fishing - the leftover fish bones in the fire ring were proof of that. It took 2 visits before I was able to locate the cave, which is at the end of a steep trail that traverses cliffs above rushing rapids. The land here is just as wild today as it was in the 1800’s.
    Looking Out of Outlaw Cave
  • A vivid rainbow appeared on the other side of this storm near Crazy Woman Canyon.
    Rainbow at the Ranch
  • It’s a view I came across in early spring: a lone tree on top of a hill overlooking ranches, ponds, a canal, and the Bighorn Mountains. The milky way was the perfect backdrop when I returned to shoot it on a warm night in July. The green stripes in the sky are from a phenomenon called airglow. During the day sunlight ionizes oxygen atoms in the upper atmosphere, and their recombination at night emits a small amount of light. This chemical reaction occurs about 100km up at the same height as the aurora, which is caused by a different process. Ripples in the airglow come from gravity waves, which may originate from the jet stream or a particularly powerful thunderstorm complex. I often find airglow in my pictures anytime I’m shooting under a dark sky. But this night was the strongest I've ever seen it. The wave pattern was very apparent, although the color was undetectable to my eyes.
    Beckton Milky Way
  • The temperature topped 100°F as I drove down a dirt road called the Calypso Trail. The terrain of eastern Montana may appear boring at first. But the Terry Badlands area is filled with all kinds of geological wonders including toadstools, pillars, caves, and these natural bridges. I couldn't find much information on this place and getting here wasn't easy. Washouts, sand, and sinkholes make the road in very rough. Any rain will turn it to mud and make it impassable. Once at the end it's only a couple mile hike through fields of biting flies. I didn't even know there would be 3 natural bridges until I arrived. It was tricky to get all of them in one picture until I went underneath. Just past the bridges was a strange tunnel carved by water, with the roof collapsed in places. Some of the only shade in the area is found by standing underneath the bridges which are up to 50 feet long. This is a dry, desolate place, but still it has a certain beauty to it.
    All 3 Natural Bridges
  • On this evening I headed up into the hills to watch lightning. The first storm that made me head out the door wasn't any good for pictures, since most of the lightning was intra-cloud. But then I watched another cell pop up to my south. As this updraft exploded into the starry sky, it started producing positive lightning strikes. Positive lightning accounts for 5-10% of all lightning, and is up to 10X more powerful than negative strikes with a peak discharge of 1 billion volts. It originates from the top of a thundercloud and travels through miles of air before striking the ground. Positive bolts can hit up to 25 miles away from the parent thunderstorm. These "bolts from the blue" are especially dangerous because people may assume they're a safe distance away from the storm when they strike.<br />
The night couldn't have been more perfect for watching lightning.A full moon helped to light up the landscape and gave the thundercloud a silver lining. I stayed in the same spot for hours as multiple storms followed the same path.
    Lightning and Moonbeams
  • Every summer I try to climb at least one big mountain, and this time it was Darton Peak. It's one of the highest peaks in the Bighorns, and is very prominent from Highway 16 far below. With a goal of standing on the summit at sunrise, that meant a 3:30AM wake up time. But the bright moonlight helped illuminate my route as the stars faded out. The wind chill up here was in the lower 20's and fresh snow lingered from a couple days earlier despite it being August. Darton is typical of other peaks in the Bighorns and is covered with car-sized boulders. With towering cliffs on 2 sides, the long and rounded peak requires a 16 mile roundtrip hike, but I was able to camp at Lost Twin Lakes the night before. At an elevation of 12,275 feet, the air is only 63% of what it is at sea level. There's always something beautiful about the way the the light appears at high altitudes at the edge of day. It's amazing how the colors can seem both soft and intense at the same time.This view is looking south towards Bighorn Peak.
    Bighorn From Darton
  • At 9200 feet in a beautiful valley of the Absaroka Mountains is a collection of abandoned buildings: cabins, a hotel, general store, stables, a post office, and shaft houses. This is the ghost town of Kirwin. Kirwin was established in the 1880's after gold and silver were discovered nearby. But the mines were never profitable and life was rough up here. Very heavy snowfall and avalanches were a regular occurrence. A bad avalanche in February of 1907 swept away buildings and killed 3 people. The town has been abandoned ever since, although some buildings have been stabilized in recent years. Another interesting tidbit of history is that Amelia Earhart and her husband loved this area so much that they had a cabin built. But when she disappeared it was never finished. I visited here at the end of August. The road up is steep and rocky, with river crossings that make it a fun drive. A storm was clearing and the sun came out for just a few minutes before disappearing again behind the high peaks.
    Evening in Kirwin
  • As I drove into the Absaroka Mountains towards Kirwin, a storm was clearing. I loved this view looking up a valley with fog between the trees.
    Fog After the Rain
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  • It was another beautiful Montana sunset near Square Butte. Roadside wildflowers provided extra color.
    Square Butte Sunset
  • On this day I headed up into the mountains with one goal: to capture the snow and fall colors together as two seasons collided. A snow storm occurring when the colors are at their peak is not something that happens every year. I wanted to be there the moment the storm ended and the sun came out, because fresh snow does not stay looking fresh for very long. Temperatures remained in the high 20’s all day and rime ice caused by freezing fog had coated the forest as well. The sun finally came out shortly after 5PM and then soon disappeared behind a nearby ridge. Aspen trees are not as widespread in the Bighorns as they are in other parts of the Rockies. Large clusters of them can be hard to find, but this stand across from Antelope Butte is one of the larger ones that I’m aware of. All the trees in an aspen stand are actually clones of one another. They are connected underground by a vast root system. This makes aspen trees some of the largest living organisms on Earth.
    Autumn Frosting
  • It's quite common to see clouds at night illuminated from below by light pollution. But it's strange seeing clouds turn green, illuminated from above. This was the solar wind stream I traveled to Alaska to see, and it arrived about 24 hours after I did at 2AM. The aurora was mesmerizing to watch as it became very bright, and  twisted and pulsed and flickered. It's not often that I point my camera straight up.
    Straight Up Awesome
  • It’s one of the coolest places I’ve ever been. At the terminus of the Castner Glacier in the highest mountain range in North America is this frozen cave. I’m sure it’s easier to get to in the summer. But with 2 feet of snow covering the trail, and moose tracks outnumbering those of humans, I almost gave up on finding it. The cave is not visible until you’re standing right at the entrance. Inside is a world of ice reflecting every shade of blue. Rocks and gravel were locked in the ceiling just waiting to fall. It felt like I was in the belly of a giant beast, examining what it ate for breakfast hundreds of years ago. Down the middle flowed a silty stream. Further back very little light reaches and a water crossing prevented further exploration. Eery booming sounds came from deep within the darkness. But at least I felt safer visiting during the cold season when the glacier wasn’t actively melting. Many maps and descriptions of this place are no longer accurate. Glacier caves are temporary features which change from year to year, and as the Castner Glacier recedes there’s no telling how long this cave will last.
    A World of Ice
  • The moose is the tallest mammal in North America. And the Alaska Range is the tallest on the continent. They both came together for this shot. According to the sign at the overlook a herd of bison also roam here in the summer.
    Moose and Mountain
  • Steamboat Point is a well-known mountain on the east side of the Bighorns, next to Highway 14. I've watched the sunset from the top more times than I can count. But this time I wanted to capture the boulders which sit below the cliff face. These boulders are massive. They're bigger than houses, more like the size of office buildings. I can only imagine what it would have looked and sounded like when they fall. The rock is a razor-sharp dolomite and the area is popular with rock climbers.
    Big Boulders
  • Up until the lunar eclipse started, I still wasn't sure I would be able to see it. In between an overcast day and an incoming snowstorm, weather models were showing a brief clearing. The clouds parted not a moment too soon. Compared to the last recent eclipse, the moon was a lot higher in the sky at 50°, which made it more challenging to shoot with a foreground. I needed to find something tall, where I could set up my camera underneath and point it southeast. The Needle's Eye is a natural arch that stands at the entrance to Tongue River Canyon in the Bighorn Mountains. I knew I wouldn't be able to fit the moon inside the arch, but just above it. This is a wider shot to include more of the canyon walls.
    Red Moon and Arch
  • The buildings of the Abisko Science Station looked especially photogenic with the mountains behind them in the late evening sunlight.
    Abisko Science Station
  • For the 2nd night in a row, there was an active display of the northern lights in Abisko, Sweden. Starting off as a dull glow in the north after sunset, it quickly exploded with bright green spiral swirls filling the entire sky. Here above the Arctic Circle the aurora is ever present, encircling the Earth's poles in a zone called the auroral oval. Even during solar minimum when solar activity is quiet, the northern lights are visible on almost any clear night. And Abisko sees more clear nights than surrounding areas because the mountains to the west create a rain shadow effect. Visible beyond the forest of short birch trees, is Torneträsk, Sweden's 6th largest, and 2nd deepest lake.
    Green Cyclone
  • It only stuck around for a few hours, but this is how May started in Sheridan.
    Cold Winding Path
  • At 1:30AM the milky way was rising and formed a giant arch in the sky. Airglow turned parts of the sky green. I needed a 7-shot panorama (with plenty of overlap) to capture it all.
    Arching Milky Way
  • On the road to Courthouse and Jail Rock I stopped to photograph these horses in the evening light. They were very friendly, walking right up to the fence as soon as they saw me.
    Friendly Nebraska Horses
  • When this evening thunderstorm popped up, I knew I had to go to Chimney Rock to try to shoot the lightning behind it. After taking over 100 pictures, I eventually caught a couple bolts. A green light shines on the rock formation all night long.
    Lightning at Chimney Rock
  • On Memorial Day I spent the afternoon following multiple supercells, funnel clouds, and tornadoes across the high plains of Colorado. After a long day I was ready to head for home. But at 7PM the atmosphere still wasn’t done producing. This last storm spun up near the town of Wray. It displayed some impressive structure as it passed over the hills covered with sage brush and yucca. The NWS surprisingly issued a tornado warning for this cell, but nothing came of it. Most of the day had been fast-paced and hectic, dodging hail while surrounded by crowds of chasers there for the same reason. But now it was quiet and peaceful. This was the perfect storm to end the day with before beginning the long drive back.
    Wray Supercell
  • In the dry climate west of Kaycee, it does not stay this green for very long. But I love the contrast of the greenery with the red rock formations. I came across these 6 horses at the Hole in the Wall Ranch while driving by. They were on the other side of the field but trotted over to greet me as soon as I walked up to the fence. This area has a history of horse thievery. At the end of the 1800's this was the hideout of the Hole-in-the-Wall Gang, which included Butch Cassidy and many other outlaws. They would lay up here after robbing trains or rustling cattle. This rugged country was easily defended with only one way in from the east. While there were shootouts, in 50 years no lawmen were ever able to capture any gang members here.
    The Gang's All Here
  • After a shelf cloud passes overhead and before the rain arrives, it's called being 'in the whale's mouth.' With dark, fast-moving, turbulent clouds filling almost the entire sky, and only a narrow opening letting in light, it really can feel like you've been swallowed up by a whale.
    Under the Whale's Mouth
  • I chased this severe thunderstorm on the Crow Indian Reservation. These tepees at the trading post in Crow Agency made for a nice foreground.
    Crow Agency Thunderstorm
  • When I saw this strongly rotating thunderstorm heading my way, I found a hilltop near Ranchester to watch it come in. This is the first time I've seen a funnel cloud this close to home.
    Ranchester Funnel
  • The Big Snowy Mountains are one of several island ranges found in central Montana, rising straight out of the prairie. But unlike the surrounding mountains in a mostly dry climate, this one has it's own lake. Crystal Lake is interesting for several reasons. It is very shallow and fish do not survive the winter when it freezes solid. The lake bed is made of porous limestone. The water level reaches it's maximum depth in early summer when the snow finishes melting. But then it starts to drain. As I walked along the shore I noticed the water bubbling away in certain spots as it seeped through the ground. By early fall the lake is significantly smaller and in some years it's not much more than a puddle. The color of the water also changes quite a bit depending on the direction and intensity of the sunlight. I liked this turquoise color the best as seen from an overlook called Promontory Point. Next time I visit I want to check out the perennial ice cave which is located at the top of the 8,000' ridge in the distance.
    Turquoise Crystal
  • On this late June day in central Montana, I didn’t think I would end up with any storm pictures. Just as the storms started firing at 5PM my car suffered a flat tire. After all the miles I’ve driven while stormchasing, it was bound to happen eventually. But thankfully this cell took it’s time and let me get my spare on before I could catch back up. Near the aptly named town of Grass Range, the sun came out as the rain and hail moved to the north. The golden light contrasted with the cool blues on the other side of the sky. Outflow winds gave meaning to the term (not yet amber) "waves of grain". I tried to use a long enough exposure to show some of this movement in the wheat. From here it would be a long 250 mile drive home on a donut tire.
    Waves of Grain
  • I rarely stop to photograph deer since they are so common. But I liked the way these bucks were standing on top of a hill, with storm clouds behind them. Plus I rarely see bucks with antlers.
    Two Bucks On a Hill
  • One of my goals this summer was to capture a lightning storm from the Bighorn Mountains. But it’s not easy since by the time a storm pops up it may be too late to get to the right spot. And once I’m in the mountains, lack of cell data makes it hard to know what’s happening with the weather. But storms weren’t even expected on this night. I was camping near an overlook called Freeze Out Point. At 11PM I went up to the overlook one last time and was surprised to see flashes to the east. The cell was some 75 miles away in Montana, and at that distance lightning often appears red as it’s seen through the thicker lower atmosphere. Distant lightning strikes that are silent and without thunder are often called heat lightning. But heat lightning isn’t really a specific type, thunder simply can’t be heard from more than 10 miles away. There was just enough time to shoot a time lapse of this moonlit lightning storm before low clouds and fog came in and obscured the view.
    75 Mile Strike
  • On this evening I headed up into the hills to watch lightning. The first storm that made me head out the door wasn't any good for pictures, since most of the lightning was intra-cloud. But then I watched another cell pop up to my south. As this updraft exploded into the starry sky, it started producing positive lightning strikes. Positive lightning accounts for 5-10% of all lightning, and is up to 10X more powerful than negative strikes with a peak discharge of 1 billion volts. It originates from the top of a thundercloud and travels through miles of air before striking the ground. Positive bolts can hit up to 25 miles away from the parent thunderstorm. These "bolts from the blue" are especially dangerous because people may assume they're a safe distance away from the storm when they strike.<br />
The night couldn't have been more perfect for watching lightning.A full moon helped to light up the landscape and gave the thundercloud a silver lining. I stayed in the same spot for hours as multiple storms followed the same path.
    The Hills Are Electric
  • Ever since I saw this mountain engulfed by a storm earlier in the summer, I was hoping to have a chance to get some better pictures of it. There's something about a lone isolated mountain that's just begging to be photographed under the stars. There are at least 10 Square Buttes in Montana, and this one isn't even the most popular. That makes it hard to find information on it. In case you didn't know, a butte is a flat-topped mountain with steep sides. This particular Square Butte rises 2600 feet above a town with the same name and a population of 20. Finding the right spot to place my tripod isn't always easy. I needed to be NNE of the butte, not too close and not too far with no hills or anything else in my way. There was no time to waste since the milky way and Jupiter were in position as soon as it got dark. The milky way won't be visible for too much longer before it passes behind the sun for the winter. To get a sharper picture I took a 12-minute exposure of the mountain and combined it with a shorter exposure of the sky.
    Galactic Butte
  • On the last day of November I snowshoed a few miles up Red Grade Road as a storm cleared out, leaving behind a foot of fresh snow. This steep road is only accessible by foot or by snowmobile this time of year. In 2007 nearly 5,000 acres of Little Goose Canyon burned in a wildfire. 12 years later it's still easy to see exactly where the fire stopped. One of the best things about being out right after a fresh snowfall is the silence. A layer of light, fluffy snow on the ground acts as a sound absorber and dampens sound waves. But after snow melts and refreezes the opposite is true. Sound waves travel farther and are clearer when they bounce off of old and hard snow.
    Last Sunset of November
  • Mammatus clouds are a common sight while storm chasing, but never have I seen them in a sunset like this. They seemed to become more defined and filled nearly the entire sky as the sun sank lower. The fiery colors were so intense that I had to cut back on the saturation. A strong MCS (mesoscale convective system) had moved off to the east as I was passing through Wheatland on my way home. When I noticed this sunset developing I searched for something nearby to serve as a foreground and this old tractor did the trick. Mammatus clouds usually form beneath the anvil of a strong thunderstorm, which means they can be either ahead of or behind the storm. The lobes are about 500m wide on average and show a sinking motion, making it look like the sky is falling. Pilots typically give mammatus a wide berth because of the turbulence they bring. Even though they happen frequently, their formation is not very well understood.
    Farmer's Delight
  • Up until the lunar eclipse started, I still wasn't sure I would be able to see it. In between an overcast day and an incoming snowstorm, weather models were showing a brief clearing. The clouds parted not a moment too soon. Compared to the last recent eclipse, the moon was a lot higher in the sky at 50°, which made it more challenging to shoot with a foreground. I needed to find something tall, where I could set up my camera underneath and point it southeast. The Needle's Eye is a natural arch that stands at the entrance to Tongue River Canyon in the Bighorn Mountains. I knew I wouldn't be able to fit the moon inside the arch, but just above it. The scattered clouds which remained made a red halo around the eclipsed moon. Closer to the arch is a cluster of stars known as The Beehive.
    Threading the Needle
  • In early January is the annual Quadrantid meteor shower. Meteor rates weren't nearly as prolific as the Geminids of December. But I still wanted to photograph it since the moon phase was favorable and few pictures of this astronomical event exist. With decent weather in the forecast, I climbed to the top of a 9,477' mountain and spent the night there. The expansive views to the north included Meadowlark Lake, the tallest peaks of the Bighorns, and the High Park meadow. After chasing a mouse out of my backpack I set my camera to take pictures for most of the night. The shower seemed to be most active between about 10PM and midnight. That's when my camera captured these 8 meteors, although 3 of them were halfway out of the frame. I stitched together a few images for the bottom half of the picture, this allowed me to correct the distortion in the trees.
    8 Quadrantid Meteors
  • Every winter I try to go on at least one backpacking trip that involves climbing a mountain. In early January I spent the night on this 9500’ peak in the southern Bighorns. Winter backpacking is not without its challenges. The rule of thumb is that everything takes twice as long and requires double the effort compared to summer. Progress is slow when breaking trail through soft and deep snow. From pitching a tent, to cooking, melting snow for water, and packing up while pausing to thaw my hands, it all takes extra time. I have to be very selective in choosing a day with the best weather when it’s not snowing, not too frigid and not too windy. Things can go wrong very quickly if you’re unprepared. There’s never enough daylight and the nights seem to go on forever. But for all that trouble, this is the reward: to wake up to an amazing sunrise and a view that few people ever get to experience.
    New Day in the Bighorns
  • I don't think I've ever seen the zodiacal light glow this prominently before. As soon as it became dark enough it jumped out at me right away. The ghostly glow is caused by the sun illuminating dust within our solar system. The glow extends diagonally along the path of the ecliptic, also known as the zodiac. Only under very dark skies like this spot near St Xavier, Montana, are views like this possible.
    Bighorn River Zodiacal Light
  • In the far northwest corner of Finland is the tiny village of Kilpisjärvi. This is the only part of the country that touches the Scandinavian Mountains, and it's near Finland's highest point. The elevation and close proximity to the Arctic Ocean makes this the snowiest place in the country, and the snow here had a different quality than any other I've seen. It was so light and fluffy it could be blown off the windshield with my breath, and footprints in the deep snow pack left behind aqua-blue holes. I climbed halfway up one of the mountains, Saana, to obtain this view as the sun struggled to emerge. On the other side of the frozen lake is Sweden, with Norway to the right. This far above the Arctic Circle, trees can not grow above 600m. After this I tried climbing higher, but the route became icy, and visibility was nearing whiteout  so I was forced to turn back.
    View From Saana
  • This aurora corona was mesmerizing to watch. It was moving and changing so fast, even a 1 second exposure was too long.
    The First Corona
  • On my last night in the Arctic I was treated to a colorful sunset with alpenglow on the mountain Vassitjåkka. I was glad I had to drive back to Riksgransen to return my skis, it was all cloudy in Abisko where I was staying. The roads here have an almost constant layer of ice on them in the winter. But driving isn't as hard as it looks since cars are required to have studded tires.
    Driving in the Arctic
  • I was hiking in the Bighorn Mountains when it started to rain and the sun threatened to peak out at the same time. It was late enough in the day to make it perfect rainbow weather, I just had to reach the top of the ridge before it happened. A 2nd shower rolled out of the mountains after I reached this view, and a partial rainbow appeared. The trail conditions were very changeable, ranging from soft thigh-deep snow, to packed ice, to mud, to dry ground. Even though the Red Grade Trail system isn't very long, I definitely had to earn the view on this day.
    First Rainbow of Spring
  • This morning brought a G3 geomagnetic storm, which was strong enough to make the aurora visible through the moonlight in Sheridan, Wyoming.
    Aurora Outside Sheridan
  • Raymer Supercell
  • When I passed by this cool looking abandoned house, I knew I had to stop. The sky behind it shows the early stages of a long tracking supercell.
    Nobody's Home
  • I spent Memorial Day chasing storms across the Colorado High Plains. Colorado may not be the first state people think of when it comes to tornadoes. But it actually sees more than 50 a year on average, mostly in the eastern third of the state. Upslope flow causes storms to fire when moist southeasterly winds encounter the Rockies. The Palmer Divide is a ridge east of the Front Range and it creates what's known as the Denver Convergence Vorticity Zone. The changing winds in the DCVZ generates extra spin which makes storms rotate. But many of the tornadoes are weak and short-lived, at least they were on this day. Of the 3 possible twisters I saw, none of them were very clear. This was taken near Holyoke when swirling dust appeared underneath a funnel.
    Holyoke Tornado
  • This supercell dropped hail the size of baseballs and brought a good lightning show as it got closer.
    Cloud Piercer
  • In front of me was a rainbow, lightning to the left, a colorful sunset behind me, and to my right were baby bighorn sheep prancing around. When the downpour ended and the sun came out, it was an overwhelming few minutes and I didn’t know where to point my camera. I was just lucky to be at this overlook in Badlands National Park. When the storm was closing in I made a bad decision to turn down a very muddy road. But somehow my car made it back out after spinning the wheels for 5 minutes. My last 2 visits to this South Dakota national park were both very short and involved waiting out heavy thunderstorms, which isn't all that enjoyable in a tent. One of these days I'll return when the weather is actually nice. But bad weather makes for the best pictures.
    Badlands Bow
  • I spent the fourth of July chasing tornadoes in Chugwater, Wyoming. Chugwater has a certain legendary status among storm chasers. Storms form over the Laramie Mountains to the west, and the local terrain seems to enhance tornadic potential. On at least 3 other occasions I've seen funnel clouds here. And having one of the few paved, east-west highways also makes it a great place to target. Luckily there is not much around for a tornado to damage. I had to pick a spot either below the bluff or on top. I chose on top, which put me a little over a mile away from the developing tornado. Powerful cloud to ground lightning bolts were dropping during tornadogenesis. My camera was left outside to shoot automatically while I stayed in my car.
    Chugwater Tornado
  • It wasn't just a good night for watching lightning, there were plenty of Delta Aquarid meteors as well. This one was particularly colorful.
    Lightning and Delta Aquarid
  • On this evening I headed up into the hills to watch lightning. The first storm that made me head out the door wasn't any good for pictures, since most of the lightning was intra-cloud. But then I watched another cell pop up to my south. As this updraft exploded into the starry sky, it started producing positive lightning strikes. Positive lightning accounts for 5-10% of all lightning, and is up to 10X more powerful than negative strikes with a peak discharge of 1 billion volts. It originates from the top of a thundercloud and travels through miles of air before striking the ground. Positive bolts can hit up to 25 miles away from the parent thunderstorm. These "bolts from the blue" are especially dangerous because people may assume they're a safe distance away from the storm when they strike.<br />
The night couldn't have been more perfect for watching lightning.A full moon helped to light up the landscape and gave the thundercloud a silver lining. I stayed in the same spot for hours as multiple storms followed the same path.
    Moon Behind the Anvil
  • Over Labor Day weekend the Earth's magnetic field was battered by a solar wind stream from a coronal hole on the sun, which reached speeds of up to 800km a second. This led to the aurora dipping down to lower latitudes and I was able to catch it 4 nights in a row. I'm always in search of new north-facing viewpoints for picture opportunities. This night I spent at the top of the Judith Mountains in central Montana. Montana always has a better shot at seeing the aurora and being at a high elevation helped even more. The views reached far and wide out over the plains with more mountain ranges than I could count. As it got dark flashes of lightning were visible 250 miles away in Saskatchewan which I didn't even know was possible. The aurora danced all night long, preceded by a fiery sunset and followed by a stormy sunrise. It couldn't have been a more colorful stay on this mountaintop.
    Pillars Rising Above
  • It was half past midnight on the last day of August. A solar wind stream blowing at 700 km a second reached Earth a little sooner than predicted. The northern lights had been dancing on and off for the past few hours. But then I noticed a strange pattern, which was dim enough that I wasn’t sure it was really there. A long exposure revealed greater detail and color. The picket fence pattern is related to a rare, recently classified type of aurora called STEVE (Strong Thermal Emission Velocity Enhancement.) STEVE most often appears as a bright, pinkish ribbon of light found away from the main band of aurora. STEVE may or may not be accompanied by this green picket fence, but on this night the brighter streak of light was absent. It was my first time seeing it this far south in Wyoming. Lake DeSmet provided a beautiful blurred reflection when the wind let up. This night was the first of 4 in a row that I’d capture the aurora. The weeks surrounding the spring and fall equinoxes tend to be the most favorable for geomagnetic storm conditions. But around here the weather tends to be a lot clearer in the early fall, which is why I have more aurora sightings in September than in March.
    Emerald Waters
  • After shooting the milky way over Square Butte, I drove back south to shoot the aurora. It wasn't as active as the night before, but there was a short flare-up at 10:40PM.
    Short Substorm
  • From the moment I woke up a deep red glow was visible through my tent walls. As I stepped outside a lone elk bounded away into the woods. There was so much color both in the sky and in the foliage below Cement Ridge in the Black Hills. It was the start of a beautiful fall day with temperatures in the 70's. But this season is short. By the next day it would be snowing heavily with subzero wind chills. The mountain in the distance is Terry Peak, the highest in the northern Black Hills.
    Explosion of Color
  • At the end of October I had the the chance to spend a week in Alaska. I timed this trip with the arrival of a solar wind stream so the northern lights would be extra active. The sky only stayed clear for a couple hours on this night, but that was enough to see this bright ‘aurora rainbow.’ Only by shooting a panorama with my widest lens could I capture all of it. Most of the lakes and wetlands around Fairbanks had these bubbles in them. They are made of methane gas suspended in the ice. Just 30-40 cm underground is the permafrost, which normally stays frozen year round. But as the Arctic warms and the permafrost thaws, the decaying plant matter (also known as peat) releases methane into the atmosphere. During the summer this gas is invisible. But for a short time after the water freezes and before it gets covered with snow, these frozen bubbles are visible. Many area lakes have such a high concentration of methane that it’s actually possible to pop these bubbles and light them on fire.
    Rainbow of Aurora
  • It looked like there wouldn't be a colorful sunset since a snowstorm lingered into the evening. But then it started to break, revealing the peaks of the Alaska Range underneath fiery clouds. As far as I can tell this peak has no name but it is in front of Mount Moffet which remained mostly hidden.
    Sunset Over the Alaska Range
  • On my last night in Alaska I went to Chena Lake for a couple hours. I'm sure the aurora would have kept getting better, but I had to leave early since I'd be waking up at 4AM to catch my flight.
    Chena Birches Aurora
  • After the sun set, the cliff face of Steamboat Point above continued to soak in the golden sunlight for a few more minutes.
    Sunlight Ascending
  • In early January I spotted this pair of lenticular clouds in the Bighorn Mountains, and I reached a lookout just in time to watch them light up after sunset. These lens-shaped clouds appear to remain stationary, and are fascinating to watch. When strong winds flow over a mountain range, the air gets deflected and standing waves are formed on the lee (downwind) side. If there is enough moisture in the air, then the crest of the wave condenses into a cloud. Mountain waves can cause severe turbulence in passing aircraft. Even though these waves may be present in clear air, lenticular clouds serve as a visual warning to pilots to stay away. UFO sightings have been attributed to these clouds as well, since many of them do resemble flying saucers.
    Stacked Plates
  • Orion shines above the High Park meadow as seen from the lookout tower on a cold January night.
    Orion and Snowy Cliff
  • At 2AM Sirius was casting a long, shimmering reflection on the Bighorn River just before it set. With a magnitude of -1.5, Sirius is the brightest star in the night sky. And at a distance of 8.6 light years away, it’s the 8th closest to Earth. Under certain atmospheric conditions when it's low on the horizon this star is known to twinkle wildly and flash a wide range of colors. This happens more often than other astronomical objects because of it’s brightness (planets do not twinkle). Sirius is found in the constellation of Canis Major and is also called the Dog Star. The ancient Greeks used to watch for the first appearance of Sirius in July, which marked the beginning of the “dog days of summer,” the hottest part of the year.
    Brightest Star Reflection
  • I came back to shoot these icefalls in Abisko Canyon again since the light was better than the day before.
    Icefalls of Abisko
  • The mountain Nuolja is seen through birch trees on top of a hill.
    Through the Birch Trees
  • After trekking for 10 miles into the wilderness of Abisko National Park in Swedish Lapland, I was relieved to reach my destination. The last couple miles were the toughest, crossing a frozen lake fully exposed to the wind. My face was getting numb and the last of my water was now a block of ice. After warming up a bit I went back out to capture the mountain Kieron glowing in the evening sunlight. High peaks surround this scenic valley in the Scandinavian Mountains. The vegetation at the edge of tree line mostly consists of short birches, with everything else buried under a meter of snow. This was the first segment of the Kungsleden, a popular 270 mile long hiking and skiing trail. Ski season doesn’t start until the 2nd half of winter, the first half is much too dark. Mountain cabins are spaced about a day’s journey apart. They lack electricity or running water. But chopping firewood and collecting water from a hole cut in the ice keeps guests busy. The facilities included a small store, caretaker’s cabin, bunkhouse, and of course a sauna.
    Birches and Kieron
  • While the aurora was still going strong I wandered down to Abisko Canyon to capture the lights here. There wasn't much space to set up my tripod next to the cliff's edge so I had to be careful. I shot a time lapse  as the aurora slowly faded away. Clouds would move in soon afterward, so I was glad the lights were so active early in the evening.
    Abisko Canyon Aurora
  • Skibotn, Norway, is the furthest north I've ever traveled. But despite the high latitude, the moderating influence of the Arctic Ocean on the weather was obvious. After descending from the cold Finnish highlands, the temperature soared to just above freezing. The snow wasn't nearly as deep, and the water here was actually in a liquid state. My route to Narvik took me past several long fjords like this one. Even though more sunshine would have been nice, the views were majestic nonetheless. At almost every road pulloff I found myself stopping to take pictures. But this view was my favorite: a fishing trawler anchored off the coast with the dramatic peaks of the Lyngen Alps as a backdrop.
    Norwegian Fishing Trawler
  • After snow showers hid the sun for most of the day, this brilliant sunset in Norway caught me off guard. I rushed to find a west-facing viewpoint, while slipping and sliding on an icy pathway. This view was captured from the brand new Hålogaland Bridge, which has the longest span in the entire Arctic. By the time I got my camera out, colors had already started to fade and the ice pillar which appeared above the sun was gone.<br />
<br />
While it may look peaceful now, it was not so 80 years ago. A significant naval battle was fought here during World War II. The depths of this fjord still holds the wreckage of sunken ships. Narvik has long been a strategic ice-free port where iron ore is transported by rail from Sweden. The Germans invaded this small seaside town in the spring of 1940, but they didn't occupy it for long. The Battles of Narvik and the recapture of the town cost thousands of lives, but it was one of the first Allied victories of the war.
    Arctic Ocean Sunset
  • In mid-latitudes I always consider bright moonlight as an obstacle to seeing the aurora. But in the Arctic the aurora is so bright that I can use a short exposure, and including the moon in the shot is not an issue.
    Snaking Aurora
  • There was a lot to see in this view from Castle Gardens outside of Ten Sleep. Hoodoos and toadstools, red rock canyons, and the snow-capped Bighorn Mountains all lit up in the golden evening sunlight.
    Cloud Peak From Castle Gardens
  • It was a beautiful time of year in southern California. After an unusually wet winter, the hills are verdant, the mountains are snowcapped, and wildflowers are abundant. Chino Hills State Park is one of my favorite places to hike in the area. Even though it's surrounded by millions of people, its surprisingly quiet and uncrowded. Of course the main reason I only saw 2 other people here was probably because this particular trail (Scully Ridge) was severely overgrown. At times I was hiking through a tunnel of brush 10 feet high, which covered me in pollen. But I made it to this viewpoint just in time to catch the last wispy colors of sunset over Mount Baldy to the north. Even though I didn't capture the more popular poppy blooms this year, these golden wildflowers are almost as nice.
    Verdant Hills and Sunset
  • The jumbled mess of giant boulders known as the Fallen City can be seen from Highway 14 below. I've always wanted to climb to the top of this peak and see them up close. Some of the boulders are the size of houses, others are the size of office buildings. Deeper snow past this point kept me from getting closer, I will have to come back another time.
    Fallen City Sunset
  • I spent the night at one of my favorite places: Diamond Butte fire lookout in southeast Montana. Once my wheels left the pavement, I drove for 100 miles without seeing another human. Open range cattle, pronghorn antelope, deer, and elk seemed to outnumber people 1,000 to 1. Here in the middle of nowhere are some of the darkest skies you'll ever see. 360° of sparkling stars over the rolling hills and grasslands makes it hard to get any sleep. After the moon set at 1AM I waited for the milky way to get into position. At 3:30 the core of the galaxy containing nebulae, dust clouds, and star clusters moved above the tower. Also visible is the bright planet Jupiter, in the middle of the Dark Horse Nebula.
    Looking Out
  • There were no trails to this spot, but I knew if I could reach the top of the cliffs there would be a scenic view of the Powder River below. But I nearly got bit by a 4.5 foot long rattlesnake since I didn't see it sunning itself.
    Moorhead View Panorama
  • This was the last line of thunderstorms on the other side of the cold front. The lightning was almost non-stop. I shot it next to the North Platte River not far from I-80. This is a stack of 10 shots.
    Strobe Lightning
  • After a rainy week, there were puddles left over at the Outlaw Cave Campground. I kept waiting for the wind to calm down, but eventually I had to settle for capturing a smeared reflection of Jupiter and the milky way.
    Planet in a Puddle
  • I got to the Crystal Creek Overlook just in time to watch this storm roll in off of the Bighorn Basin. I've always wanted to watch a storm from here and this one was perfect because there was no lightning occurring.
    Storm in the Bighorn Basin
  • A weakening storm approached the west side of the Bighorn Mountains. The sun came out and this double rainbow appeared. It was so vivid it felt like I could reach out and touch it. At first it was almost a complete circle. I rushed to capture a time lapse and had to keep wiping the raindrops off my lens. I got quite wet as a result, but it was worth it.<br />
<br />
A double rainbow is caused by light reflecting a second time within raindrops. The secondary rainbow is located 8° apart from the primary bow, and is almost double the width. The colors are fainter, and in reverse order (VIBGYOR instead of ROYGBIV.) In between the two rainbows is a darkened part of the sky called Alexander’s Band. The sunlight is always brightest in the center of a rainbow at the anti-solar point. But since this bright light is also reflected opposite the secondary rainbow, that leaves a dark band in between.
    Seeing Double
  • After making it through the core mammatus clouds once again filled the sky on the west side of the storm. Lightning lit up the horizon as the sky got darker.
    The Hills of Sonnette
  • I woke up early to catch the sunrise at this overlook near Freeze Out Point. There weren't any colorful clouds, but the cliffs glowed gold.
    Cliffs Aglow
  • This storm rolled in on the Montana border at 8PM and was producing a lot of lightning.
    Lightning Near Aberdeen
  • Last summer I spent some 4 hours watching this thunderstorm. From the time it formed before sunset until it receded into the starry night, it was producing a ton of lightning. Even though the storm wasn't severe it provided plenty of time lapse opportunities as I shot over 1,000 pictures. The best part is I never had to go more than 30 minutes from home. This picture is a blend of 2 images since the lightning bolt struck a few minutes after the best storm structure. The old barn/shed is one of the few structures remaining at the nearby ghost town of Monarch. In the early 1900's this area was home to thousands of people, exceeding the population of Sheridan. But after the numerous coal mines closed it was mostly abandoned.
    Monarch Storm
  • All summer long I had been waiting for a storm like this one. It seems like most of the thunderstorms this year would clear out in the evening, instead of persisting into the overnight hours. But it's a lot easier to capture lightning when it's dark. At night I can use a long exposure of 30 seconds, which increases the chances of capturing lightning. This wasn't a particularly strong storm cell, it produced no more than a couple dozen strikes. But that was enough. By positioning my tripod inside my car and shooting out the window, I was able to keep raindrops off my lens. This image is a stack of 5 separate pictures. The light trail curving around on the left is from a plane coming in for a landing at the Sheridan airport. The passengers would have had quite a view out the window.
    Last Night of July
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