The late season, early morning storm rolled into the valley long before I rolled out of bed to follow its progress. My realization that it had arrived was a house shuddering surge of thunder that beat my alarm clock in rousing me from a deep sleep. It was enough. As quickly as I could, I dressed and grabbed my gear to see if there would be one more day of the supreme joy that chasing lightning has become.

I did not have to go far. Leaving the house, I hurried into the field of tall Arizona grass, slowed only by the need to inspect the ground for snakes in my path, to the grazing grounds before me. Finding a clearing, I stopped to survey the scene. The deep blue shaded pre-sunrise sky revealed little more than the silhouettes of the mountains across the San Pedro Valley. Obscuring the landscape even more was a thick, angry, low lying cloud cover which had seemingly stalled over the valley. The storm was immense.

Progressing from behind the Huachuca Mountains to my west, over and past the Mule mountains in the east, and deeply into Mexico to the south, the canopy of clouds spanned the entire valley. Pregnant with pacific ocean waters and moving in slothlike progress, the storm delivered cascades of torrential rain. Gale force winds drove the icy pellets sidewise rendering my umbrella useless. She was a massive storm, and she was filled with electricity. She was glorious.

Lightning sparked around me, lighting the sky with razor-sharp shards of brilliance, accompanied by bellowing thunder that was amplified by the mountain walls. The sun began to rise, struggling to clear the darkness but held back by the weight of the storms dark clouds. She seemed intent on displaying her strength as long as possible. But it was not until later, during a break in the rain, while the sun began its rise, that she revealed her true might.

San Jose Mountain, sitting alone across the Mexican border and centered in this shot, rises to close to 8,000 feet. Iconic in stature and noble in its austerity, it dwarfs everything in its vicinity. So it was in complete amazement that I watched when the explosion of lighting the storm released above it made its size seem insignificant. Crossing over its head and striking twice onto the valley floor, this bolt very well may be the largest I have ever witnessed. The tranquil red-orange light of the dawning day that struggled over the horizon only seemed to punctuate and highlight this magnificent expression of Gods power even more. As is so often the case, I stood humbled by the beauty before me. I am honered to be its scribe.
Shoot Date: October 23, 2018
Canon EOS 5D Mark IV
Aperture priority 1.6 sec at f/8.0 ‒ ²⁄₃ EV
Lens: EF16-35mm f/4L IS USM @ 26 mm
ISO: 50