There may be no better place in the world to watch the sunset than here, over a lake that appears remarkably Martian, and in the desert, where twilight turns the sky incredible shades of soft, murky orange and dusty pink.

The sun goes and we notice in the afterglow that more people have migrated to the shore of the lake, folding chairs in tow, comfortably settling into the sand of this dark desert beach. A voice comes from a standing silhouette: “You can sit wherever you like, but some of you may need to move closer to hear.”

The voice introduces itself as Brian, a Park Ranger in his late twenties who lives alone in a cabin in nearby Yosemite. He explains why he - and everyone else, apparently - is here waiting for the dark. Together we will watch the light disappear over the lake and we’ll note “the transition from day to night as it appears in the sky.” Looking out into a vast expanse, we’ll learn about the stars and constellations while watching the moon rise over the mountains.

We’ve stumbled upon an astronomy tour. In the desert. How epic.

Every trace of the daylight is gone and we’re left with the clearest picture of the stars. Brian points to Polaris with a laser beam. The North Star, the centre of the universe that stays relatively fixed while the rest of the sky rotates around it. We see Draco, the Dragon, and Ursa Major, the Great Bear. We see constellations I’ve never heard of and the names of which I can’t remember, all impressively vivid when seen in a sky so dark.

And then there is light.

A bright glow beyond the mountains becomes a milky white sliver with a perceptible movement. The group stands, excited by the moon’s appearance. All talking ceases, bringing silence as the sliver begins to grow. This hush makes my heart swell; this everyday yet immemorial event - the moonrise - met with such quiet respect and total awe. The silence is as remarkable as the sight.

The moon isn’t born in a flash, but through an incredibly steady rise. I stare at this movement with such intensity that the horizon begins to pulse with light. The moon breaks free from the mountains, a giant, nearly full glowing orb. Soon after, a straggler from the Perseid meteor shower streaks past to gasps of delight. Somewhere close, a coyote howls. It’s all enough to make us both want to stay here forever, spending each night in this desert, by this lake, watching the moon and stars like some ancient beings. No language; just eyes, ears and awe.

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