Five Years in the Making

For five years, I’ve been chasing a photograph.

Not just any photograph—but one very specific, very stubborn image: the full moon rising behind the lighthouse at Alcanada.

It sounds simple. Stand in the right spot. Wait for the moon. Click.

But this image has eluded me again and again. Once a month, for more than sixty months, I’ve made the pilgrimage—car packed, long lens mounted, weather checked, timing planned—only to return home disappointed.

The Challenge

The technical side of this image is deceptively complex.

You need a clear horizon at just the right angle.

The moonrise must align with the lighthouse, ideally coinciding with sunset so there’s still some ambient light.

The air must be dry and clean—which in Mallorca, especially near the sea, is rare. Humidity almost always creates haze near the horizon, blurring the moon and the lighthouse into a soft, unusable glow.

And then there’s the distance. To make the moon look dramatically large behind the structure, you have to shoot from very far away with at least a 600mm lens. That means heat shimmer, low light, and a shallow depth of field—everything working against clarity.

So it’s one shot a month. Twelve chances a year. If the alignment is right. If the sky is clear. If everything works.

A Break in the Clouds

Tonight, finally, the photography gods smiled.

It had stormed earlier: heavy rain, thunder, total cloud cover. I had almost written it off. But I checked the forecast again out of habit, and the prediction had changed—clearing skies, zero percent cloud cover by dusk.

I went anyway.

When I arrived, the air was unusually clear. The storm had swept away the haze. The horizon was clean, the moonrise was on time, and my spot gave me enough distance for the compression effect I needed.

I waited, breath held, fingers crossed.

And then—it happened.

The moon rose exactly where I had hoped. Still not perfect—there’s always room to refine—but the best result to date. A clean alignment. A soft orange glow. The lighthouse in silhouette. Finally, something worthy of the vision I’ve carried in my head for half a decade.

The Ongoing Quest

Will I stop now?

Not a chance.

That perfect image still lives somewhere in my subconscious—crystal clear, balanced, glowing. This one is close, but the chase isn’t over. It never really is.

And that’s part of the beauty of photography: it’s not about the final image. It’s about the returning, the waiting, the quiet nights, the missed shots, and that rare moment when it all lines up.

That’s what keeps us going.

David Campling Photographer · Observer · Storyteller