Shooting for the Stars in Sardinia

by Scott Antcliffe (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

I didn't expect to find United Kingdom

A few weeks ago, at the age of 32, I had an epiphany moment. An overwhelming, intense feeling that brought me to tears whilst stood staring at the Galactic Core of the Milky Way 1,100 metres above sea level in Sardinia. I had finally taken a photo of the Milky Way and I was staring teary eyed and amazed at the LCD display screen of my trusty Nikon D750 that I’d only purchased ten days prior. Rewind 26 years ago, I was a receptive six-year-old boy laying on a blanket on my garden staring at constellations with my dad and three older sisters. Through this I would learn the various names and appearances of these mesmerising, bright dots of hydrogen and helium winking down at us in the brisk November air. Back then, my father for all his qualities, being succinct and laconic were not skills he possessed. As a consequence, I found myself day-dreaming about football and playing on the Mega Drive console when he was trying to point out the animals and mythological creatures that made up the patterns that were directly above us in the Northern Hemisphere. It was only as a 27-year-old embarking on a new career as a Primary School Teacher that rekindled the suppressed spark inside of me when I had to inspire my open-mouthed Year 4 children with the beauty of space. Seeing their amazed, awe-struck faces and having to research the topic again, inspired me to read upon the area further to develop that stifled interest that had unknowingly but always been there. Seeing sublime shots of the Milky Way in a National Geographic magazine left me stunned and envious of the photographs and the sheer skill of the people that captured them. Sardinia had always been on my bucket list for its crystal clear, azure waters and the breath-taking beaches which it is renowned for. Not for one moment did I realise how perfect it is for astrophotography. The very first night, I noticed how clear the night sky was, helped by so little light pollution on the Mediterranean island. Encouraged by this, the very next night I was stood on the Altopiano del Golgo plateau; an old shepherd’s village snuggled inside the Supramonte mountain range. At 1AM, after checking the “Clear Outside” App realising I had two hours of uninterrupted skies devoid of clouds, I leapt out of bed like a child on Christmas Day morning about to hastily unwrap presents. The 30-minute journey agonisingly went by. My patient wife, and designate driver, humouring my excited rhetoric. We reached our destination. The sound of silence eerie yet deafening. With the distant sound of bells on free-roaming mountain goats for company I set off in my quest to capture the elusive Milky Way, one that had evaded me on many previous attempts. With a little luck and trial and error tweaking the ISO and shutter speed, waiting for what seemed like an eternity, the LCD display sprang into action and a glittering array of stars greeted me and an overwhelming sensation rushed over me, realising I had taken my first clear photo of the Milky Way-something I had dreamed about for a number of years. Tears streamed down my face. Proud, perplexed and astounded, I spent the next two hours frantically taking photos of the stunning Galactic Core in desperate hope of another endorphin hit, that made me feel a deep, meaningful state of existence. I was soon brought back to a gut-churning realisation when I landed in Luton Airport five days later, when I realised I had left my tripod in the boot of our Fiat 500 hire car after an overzealous Hertz employee was ushering us out of the car promptly. After exchanging several nervy emails begging for its safe return they had managed to find the tripod and reunite it with me a week later. Back to present day stood in front of 30 bewildered children who were staring at my images, I was able to relive that amazing, surreal moment once again, feeling a sense of accomplishment and pride as I talked them through this incredibly humbling journey.