Yellowstone’s Upper Geyser Basin feels less like part of a famous national park and more like a piece of Earth that was left unfinished. It hisses and bubbles and breathes as if a restless mythical creature lived just beneath the crust, occasionally yawning steam into the sky to vent its fury.
Old Faithful, of course, gets all the attention here. It’s the main attraction, erupting like a diva, right on schedule. Crowds gather. Cameras click. Someone claps for reasons no one fully understands.
But just a short walk down the trail, past the benches and the crowds and the collective oohs and aahs, sits the underappreciated Castle Geyser. It receives none of the fanfare of its famous brother, but it can be every bit as dramatic. Castle features a sharp, crumbling, soot-colored turret that cuts deeply into the horizon. It’s aptly named. It feels unquestionably medieval.
Naturally, I love it.
On this morning, it was clear and bright. Steam and mist rose from every corner of the basin, strongly contrasted against a dark and brooding landscape. It felt like a battlefield the morning after an apocalyptic fight between forces of good and evil with the outcome still in doubt.
After making the obligatory Old Faithful image with my Canon R5, I made my way down to Castle. The morning Castle perspective, since there’s only one legal and safe place to stand, is strongly backlit, my preference when making a high-concept, emotionally infused photograph. Unless you’re blessed with a dramatic sky at sunset, morning is the time to photograph Castle.
A lone bison appeared. It strolled into the scene and briefly paused, looking as if it had been summoned by dark prophecy. It stood perfectly still, like a sentinel, or a reluctant extra in a gothic fantasy film. It didn’t work for my purposes since it was darkly silhouetted against an even darker background. I showed my appreciation by clicking the shutter release and making one meaningless exposure. It appeared to acknowledge this gesture by glancing my way, blinking twice, and moving on.
I wanted a full-on eruption, for water and steam to explode a hundred feet into the morning sky. I wanted drama. I wanted an in-your-face image that expressed the Earth’s shock-and-awe geothermal power. I just needed to be patient and wait. I had the time, and with my Lexar® Professional GOLD CFexpress™ 4.0 Type B card, I also had the space.
Tourists came. Tourists went. One asked if I was photographing a bear. All the while, Castle remained defiantly inert, with slow, gentle billows of steam rising from both Castle and its much smaller companion, Tortoise Shell Spring. I waited and waited some more, but I wondered if I really even need a full-on eruption to make an evocative image?
The answer would be no. This would not be about power and energy, as I originally intended. It would be something different. I was going to take what was given to me, surrendering to the flow.
I experimented with some compositions, both horizontal and vertical. I considered options for the rising steam, one or two gentle plumes. I positioned the sun behind, through, and around the brightly lit steam. I could feel the echo of something ancient and unspoken. I could almost hear distant chanting or see the shadow of a dragon slipping away into the shadows.
It wasn’t exactly serene, but it wasn’t powerful either. It wasn’t pretty, but it was mysterious. It was magical, at least to me.
And here’s the lesson, if there is one: Take what Mother Nature gives you and don’t try to force your will onto the scene. Let the mood, and how you feel, guide you to images that allows for unexpected results.
And if a bison shows up for the dress rehearsal, don’t take the bait.
About
Richard Bernabe is an internationally renowned nature, wildlife, and travel photographer as well as widely published author from the United States. His passion for adventure has been the driving force behind his life’s quest to capture the moods and character of the world’s most amazing places, from Africa to the Amazon to the Arctic and countless places in between.
Learn more about Richard’s photography.
