“I looked at the last bulletin. We have a very small chance of having a thinning. This evening in June, when Anthony Turpaud embarks 20 minutes for a trip under the stars in the foothills of the Alps, the weather is more than uncertain. Between dog and wolf, as the last rays of the sun fade as the car winds its way out of Saint-Etienne-de-Tinée (Alpes-Maritimes), in the hinterland of Nice, a fine rain comes further dampen his hopes of a breakthrough through the clouds.
“This is obviously the condition sine qua non for successful photos. This part-time Mercantour National Park agent also works at night. Black. That’s when he goes hunting. Not game, no. Especially not. But starry skies. Milky Way images. A hobby that came late for this 46-year-old enthusiast.
In an “International Dark Sky Reserve”
“It was in 2017. I was consulting the park’s photo library and I realized that we only had daytime landscapes, he recalls, climbing his Suzuki through a thick mash of peas, direction the Col de la Bonnette, at an altitude of 2,715 m. There was indeed a sunset but absolutely nothing in the dark. “Sacrilege. The area is nevertheless an incredible nightlife spot, far from the artificial brilliance of the big cities, labeled International Dark Sky Reserve since December 2019.
“It’s an indication that there is very little light pollution and the observation of what is happening above our heads can be of very high quality. “He also tries to prove it during as many outings as possible to bring back incredible shots captured by pointing his camera towards infinity. And beyond. Do all the planets of astrophotography, which he now practices professionally, still need to be aligned? That all the parameters to be checked are respected. “To succeed, it’s more from April to mid-October. Due to the rotation of the Earth around the sun, the sky changes and, in winter, we have things that are a little different, a little less spectacular, explains Anthony Turpaud. It is also necessary to wait for the moments of new moon so that its light does not come to disturb anything. »
“An environment that I rediscover in the dark”
That evening, the climate will definitely not help. After crossing two deer and several hares, caught in the light of the headlights, we arrive at our destination on one of the highest roads in Europe. And the hope of glimpsing a few stars is dashed. The sky is blocked. It’s 10:30 p.m. and it’s not quite dark yet. A bluish glow still diffuses in the fog. Alone in this area with a desert (daytime) setting, the silence of the night is deafening. We only hear the wind, the sound of our footsteps and a stream in the distance. The sight is hindered, the hearing as increased.
A state that this mountain lover converted to high altitudes – he is from the west of France, usually likes to live alone. Completely in bivouac. “That’s how I manage to have a better impregnation. The fact of being isolated allows me to better feel things in this environment in which I live every day, but which I rediscover totally in the dark, explains Anthony Turpaud. In the mountains, alone, the night has a mystical side. There are particular sensations that occur. A kind of return to somewhat primitive instincts. Our eyes actually get used to the lack of light and we manage to move just with that of the stars. All our senses are awakened. We hear a lot of things. The sounds are not the same. Everything is much more subdued. And the slightest sound alerts you. »
In a state of “quasi-trance”, alone, at night, in the mountains
In the dark, “it’s a kind, not of communion, but at least of immersion” with nature which seems to him “much wilder”, he says, wrapped up in a parka and putting on his hat. Unable to advance further in the dark this time, he shows his best shots on his phone “even if the network is bad here”. He also opens the application which allows him to know “where to look” to manage to capture the Milky Way, in very slow exposure. He also recounts his past encounters with “the bats that shave your head to chase away the flies that hover around you”, “the animals that also sometimes hover around the tent”.
And he shares with 20 minutes this “magic”. “When I arrive at the place that interests me, I set up my bivouac, I do my scouting, I set up my equipment and then I wait for the sun to finish setting. In general, it is at this time that I have dinner, that I ask myself. And it is also there that the night begins to arrive, that it envelops me. The stars light up one after another. And then happens as a kind of meditation. He even describes a state of “quasi-trance”. Like this time, at the lakes of Ténibre, located a few tens of kilometers away, where there were “no ripples on the water”. An almost dreamlike moment. “All the stars were reflected on the surface. And I no longer knew where the sky was, where the ground was. I no longer knew where I was. I almost felt like I was gone, he explains. To be in space. »
“We abandon ourselves to this beauty” of the night
A moment out of time. Like many others Anthony Turpaud has already experienced in just six years of astrophotography and outings. In the Mercantour, but also elsewhere, and in particular in Finland, on the lookout for the northern lights. “I have the impression that the system in which we live, I leave it aside each time during these nights. And that, the next morning, when the sun rises again, and I return to everyday life, I feel a kind of melancholy. Life resumes its course. In this darkness, we actually surrender. We surrender to this beauty. »
The image professional (he has already released a book* and organized several exhibitions) will not bring anything back from that night. Turning back, descending into the valley, the fog becomes less dense. We see, in the distance, pockets of light with golden reflections. “This is Saint-Etienne-de-Tinée. In the distance, the coast of the Côte d’Azur,” he adds. The drizzle has stopped. In a clearing, Anthony Turpaud decides to try again. A clearing. And a few stars are out, shy between two clouds. Still too much for Anthony to decide to take out his camera. He will have to come back. To sink again into this dark night.
*The imprint of the starry sky, from the Alps to the Mediterraneanwith Cyrille Baudouin (ed. Gilletta, 176 p., €39.50)