I took this photo on the summer solstice at Skilak Lake, long before the world was awake. I had been sleeping in my tent when I caught the faint smell of rain—one of those instinctive moments that pulls you from sleep without a sound. When I stepped out to put my rainfly on, the sky opened into this unreal, glowing arc stretching across the still lake.
A perfect rainbow. A silent boat. The softest pink sunrise creeping in as the first drops began to fall.
I snapped a few photos, finished tying down my fly, and by the time the sprinkle began, the solstice sun was already rising behind me. It felt like the lake paused just long enough for me to witness it.
This image is a reminder of how magic arrives quietly—when you’re half-awake, barefoot on wet rocks, doing something as ordinary as trying to keep your tent dry.
I took this photo on the summer solstice at Skilak Lake, long before the world was awake. I had been sleeping in my tent when I caught the faint smell of rain—one of those instinctive moments that pulls you from sleep without a sound. When I stepped out to put my rainfly on, the sky opened into this unreal, glowing arc stretching across the still lake.
A perfect rainbow. A silent boat. The softest pink sunrise creeping in as the first drops began to fall.
I snapped a few photos, finished tying down my fly, and by the time the sprinkle began, the solstice sun was already rising behind me. It felt like the lake paused just long enough for me to witness it.
This image is a reminder of how magic arrives quietly—when you’re half-awake, barefoot on wet rocks, doing something as ordinary as trying to keep your tent dry.
Quality and size options coming soon
Part of the Alaska Collection
