All mine

Storm someone-or-other blows in and out over the weekend, and the energy left behind in the atmosphere after such events very often makes for dramatic skies. The weather forecast for late afternoon looks good, but I'm somewhat surprised upon my arrival that in spite of the great light the local beaches are devoid of photographers.

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Going longer

 

One sure-fire way to get any photographer to take more pictures is to buy a new piece of equipment; in this case a new lens. When out shooting land or seascapes I only carry two: an ultra-wide and a standard zoom, but have frequently felt I needed a bit more focal length than the latter offered. As a result I've retired my 24-70mm f/2.8 Nikkor and replaced it with a 24-105mm f/4 Sigma Art lens.

An afternoon stroll along the local seafront with the new acquisition proves fruitful, as with this image of a passing shower lit by the setting sun.

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Serendipity

It's a 3¾ mile walk along the top of Nine Barrow Down, from Ulwell to Corfe Castle, and yesterday's ramble was so-so photographically; not just because the sky was virtually cloudless, but I also managed to mislay the camera's memory card once I'd got home.

Temperatures have dropped considerably in the past few days and early morning frosts are back. Standard practice when entering a warm environment with cold camera equipment is to allow the bag to reach ambient temperature before opening. This prevents condensation forming on cold surfaces and potentially causing (costly) issues at a later date. To work around this, I remove the memory card before entering the house. That way I can upload files quickly and set about the editing process.

However, it seems that in my rush to get started I put the card down somewhere and then promptly forgot where it was. It can only be in one of two rooms, but just where it has disappeared to remains (at the time of writing) a mystery.

So today I decide to do a re-shoot, and retrace my steps at the same time of day, along the same route... and I'm glad I did. There's a good deal of cloud about this time around, and when the sun breaks through the broken light totally transforms an already breathtaking landscape. The cows are simply a bonus.

Image: From atop Nine Barrow Down, looking towards Corfe Castle.

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The obelisk

The weather is still unseasonably mild, and pinning my hopes on the forecast being correct (it was), I pack a camera and two lenses and head for the hills on the Isle of Purbeck, Dorset. 

It's a fairly steep climb from Deans Hill bus stop to the obelisk on top of Ballard Down, but that's my starting point for a four mile coastal walk, from thereon downhill all the way to Old Harry Rocks and finally Studland beach.

There is a bit of cloud to give the sky some interest once I'm up there, and I stop to take a number of photographs before it threatens to disappear altogether leaving nothing but blue. The original colour images didn't work as I'd intended, but converting the files to mono made all the difference.

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15 minute day

Arriving at the waters edge before dawn I knew I wasn't going to get much in the way of good light. The weather forecast warned of thick cloud from dawn to dusk, but the thin strip of clear sky near the horizon showed a bit of promise.

Once the sun appeared it was then just a case of timing shots to get pleasing wave forms on the beach to complete the compositions. 15 minutes later the sun had climbed above the cloud bank and the session was over.

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Pressing moments

The day started with the idea of a bus ride along the coast followed by a walk home. The weather forecast was for overcast skies all day, so I packed two lenses in the bag that I thought might be of some use: a 50mm f/1.8 and a 10.5mm fisheye - the latter just in case I needed to inject a bit of energy into whatever piqued my interest.

As I neared my intended destination I decided to sit the ride out for as far as the bus went, and ended up in Swanage - a small seaside town on the Dorset coast. At this time of year the place is very quiet, and I spend an hour or some roaming the streets photographing anything I like the look of. It's during this relaxed state of affairs that I notice the break in the cloud cover, moving slowly from north to south.

No mention of this in the forecast. None. I'm at a loss lens wise; I'm either too long (50mm), or too wide (the fisheye) to record the scene, and I'm faced with two options. I can either shoot a panoramic, which will involve an unfeasibly large number of shots to attempt to stitch together in post, or I can press the fisheye into use as a normal wide-angle lens. I choose the latter.

I had to keep the camera level to prevent the horizon curving alarmingly, and crop out a lot of the foreground, but it worked.

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They're there if I look

It's dark, and there's persistent drizzle as I leave the house at 6:20am and head for the beach. I'm almost 100% certain that there will be no early light to photograph, but the recent early morning sessions have got me motivated to be out and I'm going to shoot, come what may.

There's no hint of colour in the sky as sunrise comes and goes, so I resort to one or two tried-and-trusted spots to see if I can come up with a different perspective; there's always something if I look hard enough.

The light being what it is I make the decision to convert any images I get to monochrome, and it's dear old weather-beaten Groyne #18 that saves the day.

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Ripples in the sand

For most of the day I've been keeping a watchful eye on the weather system developing in the Western Approaches. What I'm seeing - via the Met Office satellite images - looks favourable, and experience leads me to believe I'm in with a good chance of something spectacular at sunset.

In the event there was little to write home about (let alone photograph), but what I did get made the ripples in the sand at low tide look more compelling.

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Plan B

 

The original plan was for a walk in the woods on a perfect autumn afternoon, but the sky looked so good en route that Nic and I agreed that it would be a shame to waste it. A swift detour took us to the top of Wye Downs, but it's a big gamble when conditions are already perfect on the way to a chosen location. This time we were lucky.

There's no wind, even at that height, and I was able to shoot numerous frames before the clouds eventually drifted away to the left and the effect on the landscape was lost.

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