Chasing the In-Between Light: Notes from the Edge of the Day
Chasing light at the edge of the day. A field note on why the hardest moments—a foggy Dolomites trail, a Tuscan sunset—are often the most alive.
Photographers are a bit obsessed with the edges of the day. You hear the term 'golden hour' thrown around a lot, and for good reason. The light does things then that it just doesn't do at midday. But it’s more than just a nice glow. It’s about being out there when the world is either just waking up or getting ready for bed—the in-between moments.
It's often a gamble, especially at sunrise. You drag yourself out of bed in the dark, looking at a weather app that promises one thing while the sky outside your window suggests another. Sometimes you get nothing. Other times, it pays off.
One morning in Sydney, we noticed the high cloud cover on the way back from the gym. It's the sort of thing that can either lead to a flat, grey morning or a brief, intense show. On a hunch, we grabbed the camera gear and headed down to Greenpoint Reserve. For a while, it looked like a dud. Then, for about ten minutes, the sun found a gap and just lit everything up.
That was it. The whole show was over in less time than it takes to make a coffee. But that’s the deal you make when you're chasing light.
When the Weather Turns
It’s not always about clear skies, either. Some of the most interesting light happens when the weather is at its most difficult. We found that out on a road trip through the Italian Dolomites. We'd planned a big hike around the Tre Cime de Lavaredo, setting off early to beat the crowds.
The morning was thick with fog, the kind that swallows sound and makes you feel like you’re the only person for miles. We couldn't see the famous peaks at all. But as the sun started to climb, it began punching holes in the mist, lighting up the trail in front of us and catching the edges of the grass. The grand vista wasn't there, but we got something else instead—a quiet, moody atmosphere that you just can't plan for. Some of our favourite dramatic landscapes come from days just like that.
The Slow Fade
Sunset is a different beast. It’s a slower, more relaxed affair. The mad dash of the morning is replaced by a sense of winding down. You’ve got more time to find your spot, set up, and just watch things unfold. While staying at a vineyard in the Chianti region, the end of the day became a bit of a ritual.
We’d sit out on the terrace, usually with a glass of whatever was grown a few hundred metres away, and just watch the light crawl across the rolling hills. There’s no single moment of high drama, just a slow, gentle fade as the warmth drains out of the sky and the shadows stretch out. It’s a quieter kind of magic.
These are the moments we’re always looking for. They're fleeting, often uncomfortable to get to, and completely unpredictable. But that’s the point. It’s in these in-between hours that you get to see the world in a different way, long before everyone else arrives or long after they've gone home.