City of Rocks Dark Sky: Astrophotography Near New Moon

Where the Rocks Meet the Milky Way
Few places in the American West earn a name as fitting as City of Rocks. Located near Burley, Idaho, City of Rocks (Night) is where the darkness truly comes alive — it's a designated International Dark Sky Park, and on the right evening, the sky above those ancient granite spires looks almost impossibly deep. I made the drive out with a few friends just days before a new moon, timing the trip to catch the darkest skies possible. The air was cool and dry, carrying that particular high desert stillness that makes you feel genuinely far from everything. Wind moved through the rock formations in low, intermittent gusts, and the temperature dropped fast once the sun disappeared behind the ridgeline. It was, on paper, a near-perfect setup for astrophotography. In practice, I was still very much learning — this was only my fourth time attempting astrophotography at all, and just my second time shooting under a new moon. The conditions were ideal. Whether I could actually take advantage of them was another question entirely.
Into the Dark Between the Spires
Arriving After Dark
We parked right as the last bit of sunset faded from the sky, leaving the massive granite formations of City of Rocks standing out as dark silhouettes. The air was already getting crisp, though you could still feel a little bit of the day's leftover warmth coming off the ground. We shouldered our packs and kept our headlamps off at first to let our night vision kick in.
The landscape out here is basically a giant maze of boulders and spires. Walking through it in the dark really makes you realize how massive these rocks are. We carefully followed a faint trail winding between the formations, using the pale glow of the Milky Way overhead to help guide the way.
Navigating the Maze
The further we hiked into the park, the quieter it got. Every single sound, from our footsteps on the gravel to a camera bag zipping open, seemed incredibly loud in the stillness. The air smelled like juniper and dust, and every now and then we would hear a night bird calling in the distance.
We picked our route using detailed trail maps on AllTrails, heading toward a cluster of spires that make great silhouettes for photos. The terrain here can be pretty deceptive at night:
- What looks like a short scramble on a map often turns into a dead end.
- Steep drop-offs pop up out of nowhere.
- Finding the right angle takes a lot of trial and error.
Setting Up the Night Shots
I set up my tripod in the shadow of a massive granite fin and let my eyes fully adjust to the darkness. There was almost no ambient light, which was perfect. I dialed in my camera settings—wide open aperture, high ISO, and a long exposure—and waited for the shutter to do its thing.
The sky was absolutely packed with stars, and the Milky Way was actually bright enough to put a faint glow on the rocks around us. While shooting, we made sure to keep the official park regulations in mind to help protect the area. Out here, even accidentally shining a bright white flashlight around can ruin a long exposure or disrupt the dark sky environment.
Between long exposures, I walked around to look for different angles. Sometimes a gap in the rocks would perfectly frame the galactic core, and other times a lone juniper tree made the perfect silhouette against the star field.
By midnight, it was freezing cold, but the shooting was too good to stop. Every photo felt like a fun experiment with composition, and it was a great reminder of why City of Rocks is one of the absolute best places around for astrophotography.

Carrying the Night Sky Home from City of Rocks
If you’ve seen my other astrophotography, you know how the moon’s glow can soften a long-exposure shot, washing the stars in silver. But here, with no moon and almost no light pollution, the night sky was unfiltered—an endless tapestry of stars and the Milky Way blazing overhead, so vivid it seemed to hum with its own quiet energy. The granite spires, ancient and unmoving, became silent witnesses to the spectacle, their silhouettes anchoring the horizon as the universe unfolded above. In these moments, the boundaries between earth and sky blur, and you’re reminded just how rare true darkness—and true wildness—have become.




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