The Cracked Eggs of the Bisti Wilderness, also known as De-Na-Zin, in northwestern New Mexico, are among the most otherworldly landscapes on our planet when viewed beneath the starry sky of the Milky Way. The Navajos called this region on the southeastern edge of the Colorado Plateau quite symbolically the “Great Area with Hills.” The additional name De-Na-Zin refers to cranes in the Navajo language and aptly describes the appearance of many of the rock formations in the area.
With the goal of photographing the remote and bizarre rock formation known as the Cracked Eggs beneath the stars of the Milky Way, I set out early in the morning for the long hike to reach them. This gave me plenty of time to explore the area and find the best composition. Amid the badlands, so rich in shapes and colors, the almost two-meter-long (6.5-foot) Cracked Eggs particularly stimulate the imagination. One could easily see crawling prehistoric creatures in their forms.
In reality, however, what we are looking at is mud deposited 73 to 70 million years ago in a shallow ocean. During the Cretaceous Period, the age of the dinosaurs, this ocean covered large parts of central North America and connected the Gulf of Mexico with the Arctic Ocean. Sand, mud, and clay were deposited in alternating layers in this vast inland sea, known as the Western Interior Seaway. At that time, the Bisti Wilderness, located along its western margin, was a braided landscape of rivers, streams, and lakes, with swampy forests teeming with dinosaurs.
Later, ash from volcanic eruptions covered the landscape. The Bisti Badlands, with their rocks of the Fruitland Formation, are therefore rich in dinosaur bones and fossilized tree trunks. As the marine sediments were eroded, the softer mud weathered more rapidly than the harder sandstone. This differential erosion created the bizarre forms of the Cracked Eggs. Mineral deposits carried by river water produced their variations in color and intricate patterns. About 25 million years ago, the Colorado Plateau began to rise above the surrounding landscape, eventually elevating today’s Bisti Wilderness to 1,850 meters (6,100 feet) above sea level.
Glaciers and meltwater from the last ice age, which ended about 6,000 years ago, also contributed significantly to exposing and shaping the Bisti Badlands landscape we see today.
In August, monsoon storms frequently develop across the Colorado Plateau whenever humid air enters the region from the south. These weather conditions occur in irregular waves and can produce localized torrential rainfall and flash floods as well as sandstorms in the Bisti Wilderness. Sandstorms develop when strong surface winds associated with thunderstorms are drawn into the storms’ powerful updrafts. I was caught in such a sandstorm that day. For about half an hour, I sheltered from the blowing sand and dust in a small side canyon, breathing through a shirt wrapped around my head. The rain from the thunderstorms never reached the Bisti Wilderness, but it created a spectacular backdrop of clouds. By dusk, the storms had moved even farther away, leaving only clouds along the horizon. As darkness fell, distant lightning illuminated the sky.
With the enchanting Cracked Eggs in the foreground, I set up my star tracker and began photographing the 180° arc of the Milky Way above the landscape. The extraordinarily bright starry sky, far from any city lights, combined with the absolute silence of this surreal landscape, made a profound impression on me. In such moments, I feel myself merging with nature, becoming one with the landscape and the starry sky.
After two and a half hours of photographing the Milky Way panorama, my star tracker had reached its maximum range and automatically returned to its starting position. At that moment, the camera shutter had already been open for four minutes, recording sharp, pinpoint stars. As the tracker rotated back, the exposure continued for another 30 seconds, effectively recording two and a half hours of star trails.
The result was a fascinating combination of tracked stars and star trails, with Polaris remaining a sharp point at the center of the rotation. Only the brightest stars became trails because the camera could gather enough of their light to record them during the short interval. Particularly striking is the Pleiades star cluster. Distant lightning from the thunderstorms illuminated the horizon with a diffuse yellow glow, while the clouds stood out in black against the starry sky, completing this unique composition. To me, it seemed as though primordial creatures were chasing the stardust falling from the sky.
During the long exposures of my astrophotography, I hardly move at all to prevent even the slightest vibration from reaching the tripod. After finishing the exposures, I switched on my headlamp and began exploring the surroundings. A track immediately caught my eye. It crossed my own path at right angles. The characteristic paw prints in the sand revealed the presence of a cougar.
When had the track been made? I examined it more closely and discovered the imprint of a paw directly in my own footprint. The cougar had been there while I was photographing in the darkness. It had been watching me while I remained completely unaware of its presence.
An intense and humbling feeling of being a visitor in the home of a cougar washed over me. I could almost hear my own silent question: Am I welcome here?
I never saw this majestic mountain lion, but the imprint of its paw in my own footprint, just a short distance from my tripod, seemed to offer an answer: I know you are here. I recognize your humility, and I tolerate you in my territory. Had it been otherwise, the cougar would have revealed itself and made it clear that I was not welcome.
