My name is Marty Hulsebos and I've been a passionate landscape photographer since the late 1980's. Here is the story behind this photo.
Golden moment in the Blue Ridge Mountains.
I awoke to the shrill beeping of my watch alarm, the tent a cocoon of damp fabric around me. The air smelled of pine and earth, a cool bite sharpening my senses. I fumbled in the dim light, fingers clumsy from sleep, determined not to miss my chance. Today was the day: the Blue Ridge Mountains in their golden morning glory.
The sky was still ink-black as I broke camp and loaded my gear into the car. My breath formed clouds in the chill, and the thermos of tea I’d prepared the night before was a small, bitter comfort. The tires crunched over gravel as I turned onto the Blue Ridge Parkway. Somewhere out there was the perfect clearing, a place where the sun’s rays would backlight the mist in a dance of light and shadow.
Miles passed in darkness. My headlights pierced the void, illuminating flashes of gnarled trees and jagged rocks. The minutes ticked by with agonizing speed. The eastern horizon began to glow faintly, signaling that my window of opportunity was closing. Anxiety gnawed at me. Would all my planning be for nothing?
Then, as if fate intervened, I saw it: a narrow pull-off that opened to a clearing. Heart racing, I parked and stumbled out, the cold air biting my face. Before me lay an endless expanse of ridges, fading into soft layers of blue and gray. The mist, illuminated by the sun’s first rays, swirled like ethereal silk and took on the amber color of the sunrise. It was breathtaking, like a Japanese painting brought to life.
I hurriedly set up my tripod, hands trembling with excitement. The shutter clicked, each frame capturing the interplay of light, shadow, and mist. Warmth seeped through the scene, the ridges rising and falling in rhythmic beauty.
An hour later, I returned to the same spot, now under the stark light of mid-morning. The mist had vanished, and the ridges that had seemed infinite now appeared flat, obscured by treetops. The magic was gone.
But I had it—the shot I’d dreamed of. A timeless moment etched into my camera, and my soul.
