Church of the Good Shepherd
Seeing this place, being here on a new moon and having crystal clear skies was truly a dream come true.
See, when I first discovered landscape astrophotography 5 years ago, one of the first images I saw that really captivated me was of the Church of the Good Shepherd. Here was this tiny stone church on the other side of the world with the Milky Way blazing overhead and when you first see a picture of it, you never forget it. It’s so simple and so powerful and surreal and it’s easy to understand how that photo could launch you into learning astrophotography, as it did for me. So when we decided to head to New Zealand, I was giddy with excitement that I, too, would be able to see the Church of the Good Shepherd with my own eyes and potentially photograph it myself at night under some of the darkest skies on Earth. We did not plan any part of our trip and so when exactly we’d arrive here was completely up in the air and when it became clear that we’d be here on a new moon and the forecast predicted clear skies after sunset, my anticipation was through the roof.
And that’s because Lake Tekapo is located in an International Dark Sky Reserve. That means that the little village of Tekapo and the surrounding areas make conscious efforts to reduce light pollution and it shows. I’ve been to some truly dark places in North America and I’m here to tell you that Lake Tekapo is next level; it’s Lake Tekapo and then everywhere else I’ve been is a distant second in the same way a minivan would place a distant second to a Porsche in a drag race. Even at night as you see the lights from the few businesses and homes on the hills, the skies are so dark that dust in the Milky Way appears as if it’s puffy white clouds and stars have so much contrast against the inky black sky that you see the colors of individual stars plain as day. The stars in the Southern Cross emit blue or yellow light and Antares looks like a distant miniature sun below the Milky Way (which it is) and a sky that you’ve been used to your whole life displaying stars as tiny, faint white dots now looks like a Lite-Brite with blue and yellow and orange and white dots and puffy white clouds of dust, billions of years old.
So when I set up my tripod and placed the exact same camera atop that I used to take my first pictures of the Milky Way at Crater Lake back in 2014 here now in front of the building that in some part was responsible for getting me there in the first place, it felt spiritual or religious in some way; that I’d arrived at where I’d been called to for 5 years. When I composed the frame and pressed the shutter for a 15-second exposure, the anticipation was extraordinary and I put my hand over my mouth just in awe of what I knew would show up. I’d taken so many astro photos with a 21mm lens that I knew how big the church would be, how much sky would be included in the frame and that the faint light barely perceptible on the side of the building from the town would illuminate it perfectly. And when the shutter closed and I waited a couple seconds for the image to write to the SD card and then pressed play to display the image on the LCD, I saw this:
I’ve left this photo unedited as a souvenir of a 15-second span of time that I will never forget. It’s so beautiful, so perfectly framed as the tail end of the Milky Way extends out the right of the church, the Large Magellanic Cloud hovers above (a celestial body I’d only ever seen through someone else’s lens) and tiny Tekapo casting the perfect amount of light on the side of the church almost as if this were a portrait, the studio lighting perfectly placed.
I took a handful of other photos, trying out different compositions and lenses and ended my short time here with the only photo I’d capture my entire trip of the Milky Way through an ultra-wide angle lens. With the time of year there wasn’t much else to shoot around the church and I was so pleased with what I’d already captured that I didn’t feel the need to explore around for other compositions or places to shoot in the area.
Was it some spiritual experience, being there at the Church of the Good Shepherd? I don’t really know. The feeling I got when I composed the shot, pressed the shutter and waited 15 seconds in anticipation and then the feeling when the image showed up on the LCD certainly didn’t feel like all but maybe the first night of photos I took at Crater Lake. So in the end, yeah: I’d have to say that finding myself here, doing something I love— the thing that the Church compelled me to explore and discover five years ago—and being there on a night that literally could not have been any more perfect for these photos or any darker really was a spiritual experience…one that I will cherish, forever.