Reflections

I lost blood for this shot

I had set out on a solo backpacking trip into Lassen National Park, not really knowing what I was getting myself into. The idea of capturing the perfect sunset over one of the park’s many lakes had been swirling in my mind for weeks. I knew Lassen offered pristine, untouched wilderness, and this trip would be an opportunity to blend adventure with my passion for photography.

The day started smoothly. I hiked through dense forests, with sunlight filtering through the trees, painting the trail in a golden glow. The air smelled fresh, a mixture of pine and damp earth. After a long day of trekking, I reached the lake—a secluded spot surrounded by towering evergreens. The water was still, a perfect mirror for the sky. The scene was everything I had imagined, and I knew at sunset, it would be spectacular.

But as the sun began to dip lower in the sky, a new challenge emerged. The mosquitoes. I had encountered mosquitoes before, but nothing—nothing—like this. It was as if they had been waiting for me, drawn by the scent of human flesh like a beacon in the wilderness. Their high-pitched buzz filled the air, swarming around me in clouds.

Thankfully, I had come prepared. My whole body was covered: long sleeves, pants, a bug net over my head. The only part of me exposed were my hands. And they did not miss their chance. The second I started shooting, I felt the first sharp sting on my wrist. Then another on my fingers. I swatted them away, but it was useless—every time I tried to adjust the camera, more of them latched on, biting with relentless precision.

The sun was sinking fast now, the sky starting to burn with vibrant streaks of orange and red. I ignored the buzzing in my ears, the prickling sensation of mosquito bites on my hands, and focused on the composition in front of me. The lake, perfectly still, reflecting the fiery clouds in the sky, creating an incredible symmetry between water and horizon. The treeline framed the scene, dark silhouettes against the glowing sky.

Each adjustment to the camera was a struggle. I winced as the mosquitoes bit down on my exposed skin, feeling the heat rise on my hands as they swelled from the bites. The only sounds around me were the mosquitoes’ whine and the occasional splash of a fish breaking the lake’s surface.

But I had come too far to be deterred now. I needed this shot. Everything else faded—the mosquitoes, the discomfort—and I became locked in on the moment. The light was just right, the reflections on the water clear and vivid. I knew I only had seconds before the colors faded into dusk.

I clicked the shutter.

Instantly, relief washed over me. The sun dipped behind the treeline, the sky's vibrant colors slowly retreating into deep blues and purples. I looked at the screen on my camera, breathless from both the excitement and the intensity of the ordeal.

I had done it. The shot—the sunset, the reflection, the perfect symmetry. It was everything I had hoped for.

The challenge had been fierce, but the reward made it all worthwhile. On that solo trip to Lassen National Park, battling mosquitoes and the unknown, I had captured the moment I came for. This photo would forever remind me of the wild beauty and the sheer determination it took to get it.