Field notes · Jul 25, 2026 · 7 min read
A temperature inversion in the Dolomites, a hut with eight bunks, and the strangest light I have ever worked in.
Inversions happen when cold air settles in the valleys and warmer air sits above it. From the valley floor it looks like a grey, miserable day. From two thousand metres up it looks like the mountains are islands in a white sea.
We were lucky enough to be at a hut when one settled in and stayed for three days. Every morning the cloud sat a little lower, and every evening the peaks turned pink above it for a few minutes after sunset.
The challenge with that kind of light is restraint. Everything looks spectacular, so it is easy to come home with a hundred versions of the same postcard. I tried to look for the edges instead: the moment the cloud started spilling over a col, or a ridgeline half swallowed by mist.
On the fourth day the inversion broke, the valley filled with sun, and the magic simply switched off. We walked down in shirtsleeves.
Elena CrossLandscape and travel photographer, writing between trips from Edinburgh.
