Yesterday's weather, today

I missed my vocation in life: I should have been a meteorologist. A cushy number (and decent money, I would guess), with potential candidates for such an occupation needing (I suspect) to be in possession of the unswerving ability to fashion unrestrained speculation as to what the weather might be for any given day, then simply pass those approximations on to the general public. What could be easier?

Yes, hyperbole, of course (and said with tongue firmly lodged in cheek) as the Met Office does a sterling job most of the time, but when forecasts are more than twenty-four hours out it does make the advance planning of photo shoots difficult. 

What I got this morning should have happened yesterday, but clear conditions and the gorgeous light fifteen minutes before sunrise - and all on a falling tide, more than made up for any inaccuracies incurred by the UK's national weather and climate service.

© 2026

Open for debate

 

I hadn't expected to photograph anything on this morning's walk. I even debated whether or not to take my camera bag, such was the weather forecast for early part of the day. At the last moment I opted to do so, and I'm glad I did.

© 2025

On the lookout

I'm rarely alone on a beach when there's the expectation of something worthwhile to photograph. And why would I be? We all want to get take good pictures (and preferrably something others don't get), but the two or three fellow photographers that are set up before I arrive are in a cosy clump; all with long lenses pointing in the same direction; all getting roughly the same shot; all waiting for the sunrise.

Instinctively, I move further along the seashore in search of something they will miss, and I start shooting  before the sun has risen.

 © 2025

Getting the ball rolling

I'm roughly half way through my seascape season, and the weather isn't playing ball. It's either heavily overcast, or any pre-dawn cloud simply melts away with the sun just below the horizon. So I'm posting what I got, not what I would have liked, just to get the photographic ball rolling for the new year.

© 2025

 

Missing out

Frequent bouts of heavy rain - followed by patches of clear skies, is what inspires me the most to get outside with a camera, and this morning has it in spades. The sheer drama of it all is worth the 4am alarm when conditions are this good, and trudging through the torrential downpours to reach a chosen location is all part of the fun. However, there are those I know that disagree with me. 

But then again, they don't get the shots that I get. 

© 2024

First day; first light.

Starting the year as I mean to carry on? Probably not, but the pre-dawn walks are becoming something of a regular fixture with me, and finding something to photograph along the way is always a bonus. 

© 2024

Falling

Three weeks into winter, with 2 days until the solstice, and day and night time temperatures still hover around 11ºC. This makes pre-dawn starts all the more bearable, especially when walking, but I know the season has yet to bite.

The image of Branksome Chine beach was taken on a falling tide, 23 minutes after sunrise.

© 2023

Solo effort #1

This particular structure on a local beach has been photographed many, many times before (self included); social media bears grim witness to that. I have even watched others form a queue, waiting patiently in line for the opportunity to take a near-identical image as the last photographer. 

I have no qualms about reusing the location today, because apart from the spectacular dawn light, I'm the only person there getting the shot.

© 2023

A piece of luck

There is often an element of luck with landscape photography. Conditions may well be ideal at a chosen location, but then something can happen that elevates the scene to another level.

To be honest, the light didn't get any more interesting that what you see, but the sudden stirring of pigeons feeding on the beach behind me produced this image as they flew overhead. I managed just three shots before the flock became too small in the frame.

© 2023

Won't be so many more days

    

It has been something of an uneventful winter season as far as seascape photography goes, with extended periods of high pressure that either kept the skies clear, or allowed a thick blanket of cloud to remain in place over the country. I am assured - according to the Met Office - that this has been mainly due to the positioning of the jet stream over the North Atlantic. 

In effect, there have been few storms to stir up the atmosphere, which in turn creates great cloud formations coupled with dramatic light. There won't be many more days to shoot as the sun is beginning to rise inland, and the time of year will have passed.

© 2023

Double the fun

Any break - however small - with the current monotony of the cloud blanket that has parked itself over the country gets serious consideration for a photo shoot, so in the pre-dawn I set off once again in the hope some spectacular images at day-break.

Initially it looks hopeful, but after some 45 minutes of expectation the best I get is a splash of colour (above) before the light has goes and it starts to rain. I take some shots all the same, grateful for what nature has been all-too-reluctant to offer in recent weeks, then decide I'm not going to waste the outing altogether and walk the seven miles along the coast to the harbour crossing ferry before getting the bus home.

Two thirds of the way into the walk I glance to my left and note that waves are producing interesting patters on the beach and the sky has, indeed, become interesting. Not wasted after all.

© 2023

The wind can't blow 'cause the sky is gone

It has been quite some time since I've posted anything on this blog. I have been out shooting - albeit at my usual summer's snail's pace - but what with one thing and another I've simply not got around to uploading any images. The backlog of pictures will be put right in the next day or so.

Peering out of an upstairs window shortly after 4 a.m. I see a good amount of broken cloud; ideal conditions for something spectacular in the sunrise department I think, and head for the beach. But nature being what it is it had all but dispersed as dawn broke. 

© 2022

Solstice dawn: 4:46 a.m.

The alarm on my phone wakes me up at 3:30 a.m. and I'm up shortly afterwards, peering out of the window at the approaching dawn. Having made a swift appraisal of the weather conditions - there's some high-level cloud to the east, but otherwise clear - I grab my Lowepro and travel no further than my local park to photograph the solstice sunrise.

 © 2022

Shut up 'n post photographs

There have been many occasions when I've struggled to write text to accompany the images I use on this blog, and sometimes it puts a stop to making posts altogether if I can't come up with something interesting.

It wouldn't be for the first time that Nic has told me not to bother with writing and simply post a picture. So, taking Nic's advice, and to paraphrase Frank Zappa: I'll shut up and post photographs (at least for the time being).

Image: Boscombe beach - 07:35 today.

© 2021

Wave

The early morning start on the beach to photograph the 'Pink Moon' - also a Supermoon - quickly fizzled out as it began to set. I wanted some foreground interest to be included to give a sense of scale, but as the moon dropped towards the horizon it turned into an indistinct pale blur.

But instead of admitting defeat I scanned the shoreline in the hope of finding another subject to photograph, and noticed that breaking waves were catching the sun's rays. Initially shooting into the light I quickly decided nothing was working, but once I turned and had the sun to my back things started to get interesting.

 

300mm f/2.8 AF-S VR Nikkor. 1/2000 second at f/2.8. Matrix metering. Monopod. ISO 100

© 2021

Yellow plastic bucket

Another cloudless day is forecast for the south coast, and I set off to the beach well before dawn to see if there's anything worthwhile to point my camera at. I'm carrying two lenses: a wide zoom and a fisheye prime. No cloud at all means I'm going to have to work harder to get anything interesting as a seascape, and an extreme focal length such as the fisheye can sometimes get me out of a hole when inspiration is not immediately forthcoming

The plastic bucket was photographed as found, left behind, no doubt, from activities the day before. It caught my eye from a distance and I swiftly decide it will make a better theme than yet another sunrise shot. I get in low and close, and shoot with a wide(ish) aperture. Unfortunately, I overcooked the use of the filter on the sky, and it impinged on my subject.  

Never mind.

12-24mm f/4 AF-S Nikkor. 1/80 second at f/5. Matrix metering. + 1 stop EV compensation. 0.9 Lee reverse grad. ISO 160

© 2021

You're welcome to it

The air temperature is 0º C as the Christmas Day swimmers charge into the winter seas out of shot to my left, presumably doing it for a bet. Rather them than me. There are several photographers on hand to record the tradition, so my attentions are focused elsewhere.

There's little cloud in the sky before the sun breaks the horizon, and I only manage a few frames in the direction of the pier before the lights are turned off and the reflections are gone.

12-24mm f/4 AF-S Nikkor. 1/60 second at f/8. Matrix metering. -0.67 EV compensation. Monopod. ISO 2000

© 2020

The delicate light of dawn

                                                    Those pastel hues that occur just after sunrise don't last long.




70-200mm f/2.8 Apo Sigma lens. 1/500 second at f/5.6 Matrix metering. ISO 500



© 2020

A run of luck

Ignoring weather forecasts altogether (since when are they accurate, anyway?), I set off on a pre-dawn walk along along the beach with my camera. As with yesterday, the cloud cover is thick before sunrise, but once again I get a few minutes of good light that appears from nowhere and vanishes equally as quick.



Olympus OM-S EM MkIII with 14-42mm f/3.5-4.5 Pancake lens. 1/400 second at f/11. -1 stop EV compensation. ISO 200



© 2020

Christmas post

A pre-dawn perambulation on Christmas morning, and although the sky has been clear overnight there is no frost. Nor is it cold for the time of year, bearing in mind we are in the depths of winter.

There wasn't much to photograph on my walk around a nearby lake either, so I photographed the light instead.



Olympus OM-D EM MkIII with 14-42mm f/3.5-5.6 Pancake lens. 1/30 second at f/11. -⅓ EV compensation. ISO 200



© 2019