03 July 2026
Some of my earliest memories involve looking through an exceptional pair of binoculars that belonged to my dad. They were equipped with high-end Zeiss optics, and although I was far too young to appreciate just how extraordinary they were, I knew I was looking through something special. To me, they were nothing short of magical. Night after night I would stand by a small window in our home, pointing them toward the Moon. Seeing its craters, mountains, and shadows for the first time sparked something that has never left me. I didn’t know it then, but those quiet evenings would shape the rest of my life.
I was born in Bogotá, Colombia, a city nestled high in the Andes Mountains at more than 8,600 feet above sea level. Beyond its breathtaking scenery, Bogotá is the ancestral heartland of the Muisca people, one of the most sophisticated civilizations in pre-Hispanic South America. Although I would not fully appreciate their remarkable history until much later in life, I now find it meaningful that my lifelong fascination with the sky began in the same region where generations of Muisca carefully observed the movements of the Sun, Moon, and stars to guide agriculture, ceremonies, and daily life.
My childhood was anything but ordinary. I was fortunate to grow up between Colombia, Brazil, and the United States, spending part of my youth in Queens, New York. Living in different countries exposed me to diverse cultures, languages, and perspectives. Every move brought new experiences and lifelong friendships, but one thing remained constant.
I always looked up.
Like many children, I was fascinated by airplanes. Whenever I heard one overhead, I instinctively searched the sky until I found it. I wanted to know where it was going, how it stayed in the air, and what the world looked like from up there. Every airplane represented adventure, discovery, and possibility. And a different perspective!
Before long, my curiosity expanded beyond aviation and into astronomy.
The night sky became my classroom. Every clear evening offered another opportunity to learn something new. Whether I was following the changing phases of the Moon, identifying constellations, or locating the bright planets wandering among the stars, I was captivated by the immense beauty of the universe. Astronomy taught me patience, humility, and perseverance. Nature always has the final word. Clouds arrive unexpectedly, atmospheric turbulence blurs fine detail, and many nights of careful preparation end with nothing more than valuable experience for the next attempt.
Those lessons would later influence nearly every aspect of my life.
As I grew older, I earned a Bachelors degree in Industrial Engineering. At first glance engineering and astronomy might seem unrelated, but to me they complemented one another perfectly. Engineering taught me to analyze problems, understand systems, and appreciate precision. Astronomy reminded me why curiosity matters. One developed my analytical thinking; the other continuously fueled my imagination.
Years later I decided to deepen my knowledge by completing an Astronomy Diploma offered through Duke University on the Coursera learning platform. It gave academic structure to a passion I had nurtured since childhood and encouraged me to continue learning about observational astronomy, planetary science, and the techniques used to study our universe.
Eventually that passion evolved into planetary astrophotography.
Unlike traditional photography, planetary imaging requires recording thousands of individual images through a telescope before combining only the sharpest frames into a single photograph. Success depends on meticulous preparation, precise focusing, stable atmospheric conditions, and a considerable amount of patience. It is a hobby that rewards persistence far more than perfection.
In 2018, one of those countless nights under the stars resulted in a photograph of Jupiter being published by Sky & Telescope magazine, one of the world’s most respected astronomy publications. Seeing my work recognized by a magazine I had admired for years remains one of the proudest moments of my astronomical journey. More importantly, it represented years of learning, experimenting, and refusing to give up. Although astronomy occupied much of my free time, another fascination had quietly been growing alongside it.
Drones.
Not simply because they could fly or “swim”, but because they offered an entirely new perspective of the world. As a teenager, I even dreamed of someday owning an underwater drone long before such technology became readily available. Looking back, I realize my fascination was never limited to aircraft. What captivated me was the ability to explore places that were otherwise difficult—or impossible—for most people to experience. Whether looking light years into space through a telescope, beneath the surface of the ocean with a remotely operated vehicle, or hundreds of feet above the Earth with a drone, I have always been drawn to discovering new perspectives.
Over the years I noticed that many of my friends in the astronomy community also shared an enthusiasm for drones. At first it seemed like an amusing coincidence. Eventually I realized it wasn’t a coincidence at all.
Astronomy and drones have remarkable similarities. Both require patience, careful planning, technical knowledge, weather awareness, and a willingness to keep learning. Both combine science with art. One encourages us to look outward into the universe, while the other allows us to look back at our own planet from extraordinary vantage points. For me, they are simply two different expressions of the same lifelong curiosity.
Ironically, my own journey into drone aviation began because of a family Christmas tradition.
Every year our extended family celebrates Christmas with a Secret Santa gift exchange. The spending limit was approximately $100,000 Colombian pesos, roughly forty U.S. dollars. Three years ago my youngest child drew my name but accidentally misunderstood the budget, purchasing a GPS-equipped drone that cost around one hundred dollars instead.
Sometimes the most important moments in our lives arrive disguised as simple mishaps. That unexpected Christmas gift changed everything.
The drone was far from professional. It wasn’t a DJI, but it hovered steadily in place and introduced me to an entirely new way of seeing the world. The moment I flew it, I realized drones were much more than flying cameras. They were remarkable tools for exploration, creativity, and discovery.
That experience inspired me to purchase a Potensic Atom 2, followed later by a DJI Mini 4 Pro. As my skills grew, so did my interest in everything drones could accomplish. I completed specialized training in aerial mapping, photogrammetry, three-dimensional modeling, and construction progress documentation while continually refining my flying skills. What had begun as an unexpected hobby gradually evolved into a professional pursuit.
When the time came to choose a name for my business, the decision was deeply personal.
I chose Muisca Drone because Bogotá, the city where I was born, stands at the center of the ancestral homeland of the Muisca Nation. Their sophisticated society flourished for centuries before the arrival of the first Spanish explorers. They were exceptional goldsmiths, accomplished traders, skilled farmers, and careful observers of the heavens.
The Muisca are also forever linked to one of history’s most enduring legends.
The legend of El Dorado originated with the inauguration ceremony of the Muisca ruler known as the Zipa. Historical accounts describe how the new ruler covered his body with fine gold dust before boarding a ceremonial raft and traveling to the center of Lake Guatavita. There he offered gold and emeralds to the sacred waters before diving into the lake. This extraordinary ceremony inspired the legend that drove generations of Spanish conquistadors to search obsessively for a mythical city of gold. Today, the famous Muisca Raft displayed as a miniature 7 by 4 inch gold piece in Bogotá’s Gold Museum, beautifully commemorates this remarkable tradition.
The logo of Muisca Drone is my personal tribute to that heritage. It depicts a golden Muisca-inspired figure confidently holding a modern drone controller, with propellers emerging from its head as a symbolic bridge between Colombia’s ancient craftsmanship and today’s aerial technology.
Another source of inspiration comes from the Quimbaya culture, which also forms part of my Colombian heritage. Their extraordinary gold figurines are admired around the world. Some have become popularly known as the “Quimbaya airplanes” because of their striking resemblance to modern aircraft. While archaeologists generally interpret these masterpieces as stylized representations of birds, insects, or other flying creatures, they remind us that humanity’s fascination with flight and exploration extends back thousands of years.
Looking back, I realize that a single thread has connected every stage of my life.
The tools have changed—from my father’s Zeiss binoculars, to telescopes, cameras, and now drones—but the motivation has remained exactly the same. I have always wanted to explore, to learn, and to experience the world from perspectives that most people never have the opportunity to see.
Whether I am photographing Jupiter through a telescope or documenting the Earth from above with a drone, I still feel the same sense of wonder that began many years ago with a young boy standing at a window, looking at the Moon through his dad’s binoculars.
Everything that has happened since has simply been a continuation of that very first look toward the sky.
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