Ethereum

Celestial Curve

Collection

Editions by Vincent Schnabl

Description

This shot lived in my mind for years before I finally pulled it off. It required an almost ridiculous number of things to line up. It had to be winter. The aurora had to be strong — this location faces west, not north. A train had to pass through at the right moment. And the sky had to be clear enough to see the lights. Seeing a strong forecast for aurora activity, I decided to send it. I drove out to the iconic location, which is actually only about an hour from where I live. In winter though, that stretch of road can be treacherous. When I first left, the sky looked completely socked in with clouds. But as I got closer to Lake Louise, I drove up through the cloud layer and into perfectly crisp, clear skies on the other side. At the spot I met up with another photographer friend and we waited. And waited. And waited some more. We could pick up a faint pink glow on our cameras, but that was about it. The temperature hovered around -16°C and I was definitely underdressed. To stay warm I had to run around doing jumping jacks and push-ups every few minutes. After eight hours standing in the cold, the aurora never materialized and the clouds eventually rolled in. The shot would have to wait. The next night looked promising again. This time I went alone. More waiting. Photographers came and went. Still nothing. Then suddenly I noticed a green glow to the north — visible to the naked eye, but nothing spectacular yet. I decided to cut my losses and try a north-facing location instead, but I needed gas first. As I pulled out of the gas station, it was like a rift had opened in the sky. The aurora exploded in bright greens and pinks, dancing wildly overhead. I jumped in my car and ripped toward a new location. Of course, by the time I arrived the show had faded again. I still managed a few shots, but nothing like what I had seen from the highway. At that point I was exhausted. My throat was sore from standing in the cold the night before and I was ready to call it. Then, as I was walking back to my car, I heard a train horn echoing in the distance. I thought, screw it — one last try. I threw my camera, still attached to the tripod, into the car and raced down the old highway. I was literally chasing the train. Somehow I managed to pass it before it reached Morant’s Curve. I slammed into the parking lot, ran across the road in the dark, and frantically set up my camera. Just as I found my composition, the train came chugging around the corner. One chance. The aurora began to glow again as the train entered the frame. Click. That was it. After years of imagining the shot, everything finally came together in a single moment. I sat there for another hour just watching the aurora dance across the sky, barely believing what had just happened. Around 1 a.m. I finally headed home — exhausted, frozen, and completely satisfied. In my mind, this is the best photo I’ve ever taken. Every element aligned perfectly, and it required the experience and skills I’ve built over the years to pull it off. A truly one-of-a-kind moment.