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A Third Attempt at Pilot Mountain Plus Super Moon, Full of Clouds, Camera Glitches, and Pure Magic
The third time is supposed to be the charm, right? Well, if you’ve ever tried to capture a perfect shot of the #HarvestMoon, or any full moon for that matter, you know that “third time’s the charm” is more of a suggestion than a rule. And thus, we at Juxtaposed Tides set out yet again for our celestial quarry—this time, armed with patience, a bit of nail-biting anxiety, and a dash of hope.
First Things First: The Road to Pilot Mountain
Let's set the scene. It’s our third attempt of the year to capture a full Super Moon rising over Pilot Mountain. We’d been thwarted twice already by the usual culprits—clouds and terrible timing. Both times, not only did we miss the shot, but we didn’t even get to witness the moonrise. That’s right, folks, two road trips and not a single glimpse of that glowing orb. So, third time...how will this go?
After a quick motorcycle ride up Highway 52 (because what's a moonrise without a little pre-ride adrenaline?), I rolled into Pilot Mountain State Park around 7:30 PM. My trusted partner-in-crime, abenteur gAl, had beaten me to the punch and was already snapping the last rays of sunset. I’d missed most of it (curse you, time-consuming, last-minute tweaks on the bike), but the colors were still lingering as if they were waiting for me to arrive so they could greet me and surrender to the night; how kind of them.
The Sunset that Wouldn’t Quit
Now, if you’ve never seen a sunset at Pilot Mountain, I can tell you it’s worth the trip even without a moonrise in the cards. The way the light hits the Great Pinnacle and other Sauratown peaks that linger just to the northeast, not to mention the colors reflecting from the scattered clouds, is like a visual symphony. This sunset in particular? It was one of those lingering shows that doesn’t know when to quit (as if the crowd even noticed, in the moment). The colors seemed to stretch on into infinity well past 8:00 PM. It was like the sun just couldn’t bear to leave, and, quite frankly, neither could we.
As the smoldering sol finally said its goodbyes and the stars began their twinkling hellos, we shifted our focus from the solar to the lunar; and here’s where things got really interesting. We sincerely debated forgoing entirely the moon-with-knob combo and nearly took the trail that skirts the perimeter of the Great Pinnacle with hopes of glimpsing the harvest moon birthing along the far horizon.
Cue the Nail-Biting
Here's the deal: Pilot Mountain State Park’s upper lot closes at 8:45 PM. That’s the cutoff for the knob parking area, and trust me, the staff doesn’t mess around. So, we were basically racing the moon against the clock, as per always. By 8:30, we were gnawing our fingernails faster than a caffeinated beaver crew, praying that the #SuperMoon would show itself before the daggummed horn blew for our tardy exodus and we were forced to make a hasty retreat (not our first...).
Just as hope started slipping away, a faint glow appeared on the opposite side of the horizon from where the sunset had been. Oh, the sunset isn't done, claims my gAl! And sure enough, the clouds that had begun to gather just beyond the knob began to be lit as if by the sunset (or, rather, a sunrise, right where it would normally happen in the east-southeast sky). Was it the moon? Could it really be happening and us catching it?
We held our breath. There wasn’t a single nail left to bite...
Enter: The Sacred Full Moon (and the Clouds)
Suddenly, a breeze kicked up from the west. Not just any breeze—the kind that threatens to ruin the celestial moment you’ve waited hours, days, MONTHS even, to witness. The wind and clouds, which had been behaving up until now, decided it was time to collectively stir the drama pot and drift directly into our line of sight. Fantastic.
But, lo, as the light behind the knob waxed brighter, it became clear. The moon—the moon—was rising. Right behind the Great Pinnacle. The one place we’d been hoping all of these times to see it emerge. And despite the clouds moving in, there it was.
We couldn’t believe our luck. The moon rose with the kind of elegance you’d expect from a celestial body that’s had billions of years to practice. Even with the clouds rolling through, they created just enough drama to add some texture to the shots. We didn’t even mind them—well, much.
The Perfect Moonrise (Almost)
Now, here’s the kicker: We were standing roughly 700 feet from the knob, so by the time the moon peeked out from behind it, it had already risen pretty high. This meant we didn’t get the “super moon” effect you see when the moon is just above the horizon, all massive and looming like something out of a sci-fi movie.
To get that shot, we’d have needed to position ourselves on a hill far away, aligning the moon to one side of the knob, and taking a series of shots as it rose. In other words, we knew the right technical setup. But this time, we chose the romance of proximity. We wanted to stand close to the mountain, feel the soft glow of the moonlight washing over the rocks, and soak in the magic of the moment from the overview.
And boy, did we get it.
At exactly 8:38 PM, we watched every part of the moon rise directly behind the Great Pinnacle. It was splendid, it was beautiful, it was—dare I say—indescribable.
The Dream Shot that Never Was
Now, here’s where things get a little less perfect. As much as we wanted that “dream shot” of the moon and the knob in perfect harmony, we were betrayed by technology. Our camera, apparently overcome by the beauty of the scene like we were, decided to malfunction. Call it stage fright. We didn’t get the shot we’d been working toward all year.
But here’s the thing: We did get some incredible shots with our phone cameras, and more importantly, we got the experience. The anticipation, the wonder, the sheer joy of finally seeing what we’d been chasing. And that, dear readers, is what made the night so unforgettable.
What We Learned (Besides the Fact That Clouds Have a Sense of Humor)
Sure, we didn’t get the perfect shot, but we got something better— we harvested a story worth remembering and sharing. If you’re ever chasing that perfect moonrise shot (or really, any celestial event), remember that the experience is just as important as the photo. And sometimes, even better.
While we didn’t get “the shot,” we certainly got the experience. And that’s worth everything.
Next Up: Celestial Happenings at Juxtaposed Tides
Want more stories like this one? We’re always chasing the next #celestial event and more - capturing the world from behind the lens. Head over to our website (link in bio!) for more articles, photos, and tips on how to catch these magical moments yourself. And don’t forget to follow us and subscribe to stay up-to-date on all things media, photography, and beyond.
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