Peaceful Morning Panorama of Volcán Barú, Panama

There are mornings in the mountains that feel like gifts. This one began quietly, with clean, dew-laced grass underfoot and a sky so crisp it felt freshly unwrapped. At 6am, just before the sun crested over the rim of Volcán Barú, I stepped outside with my camera and caught this moment — a sweeping panoramic view that holds so much more than a landscape.

The air was still and sharp, filled with birdsong and the scent of wet earth. I shot the entire panorama handheld — fifteen overlapping frames, each bracketed at -2, 0, and +2 exposures. It’s a technique I often use for scenes like this, where shadows and highlights play delicate games across the landscape. Later, I blended the exposures in Lightroom Classic and fine-tuned the image in Photoshop. A technical process, yes, but all in service of preserving the feeling of that moment.

The photograph stretches from the soft early light on the grass, across trees and greenery, to Volcán Barú in the distance — calm, majestic, and quietly watching over the valley. On the far right, there’s an elegant house nestled in the trees. It’s not mine — I rent a small two-bedroom casita nearby — but I love the way its design complements the land. It’s a beautiful contrast: the simplicity of my morning and the grandeur of the view.

After the photo, life resumed its gentle rhythm. Coffee. Breakfast. A school run with my daughters. But the image stayed with me. A reminder of why I pick up the camera — to hold on to these little silences, these slivers of light that often slip past unnoticed.

Sunrises are never easy to photograph. The light changes by the second, and it’s a balance between patience and timing. On this day, I waited just long enough for the sun to peek from behind Barú, casting soft light across the frame. That golden moment — subtle, but powerful — made all the difference.

This is why I love living here. And why I keep shooting.