Something a little less theatrical

Today marks the start of British Summer Time, and that means first light is now back to a more civilised moment - at least for the time being. The sky turned a fiery red as sunrise approached an hour later than yesterday, and although photographed de rigueur, I opted for subtlety rather than drama for this post.

© 2026

Water, water, everywhere

Water: apart from being vital for all known life forms, is also very photogenic. It's one of the reasons I spend so much time shooting seascapes. Overnight rain had already began to evaporate on the Ekki decking of a local pier by the time I arrived, which nicely outlined the individual boards. The blue sky, its reflection, and the warmth of the rising sun did the rest.

© 2026

Making it work

The visual transition into spring is well established now, but winter appears to be doing its best to reprise its role. The wind is gusting, and temperatures are just a couple of degrees celsius above freezing as I leave home in the pre-dawn gloom.

There's no cloud whatsoever this morning when I arrive at the beach. Photographing the sun rising into a clear blue sky never really works it for me, so today I look to shoot something that's more evocative than depictive.

© 2026

Ad nauseum (well, not strictly true)

Every sky you see is unique; the sea never looks the same two days running. I will never get tired of photographing such mornings. 

 © 2026

Alluring light

A sea haze, and the pastel shades created by the soft pre-dawn light lure me on to a local pier eleven minutes before sunrise. The swimmers in the middle distance are there at 7 a.m. every day of the year, come what may.

© 2026

Am I bothered?

Even in the depths of a UK winter there are signs that Spring is not far off. Snowdrops have been in bloom for a couple of weeks, while crocus and daffodils are putting in early appearances in local parks because it has been so mild in the south. 

I've been lucky this season compared to most of the country, which is still being disrupted by storms and flooding through heavy rain, but leaden skies are still very much the norm when it comes to outdoor photography. Not that it bothers me much, as long as there's the occasional thinning of the cloud base to make things interesting.

© 2026

At the ready...

Photographed in the early morning light, the stone arches at the western end of Bournemouth's Undercliff Drive date from November 1907; the year it opened. The spaces in between were available for use to the public at large, but in recent times they have become enclosed to serve the paying customers of a UK fast food restaurant chain.

© 2026

Letting nature decide

The very idea of rain showers around dawn at this time of year has me out of the house well before first light. Rapidly changing weather is my idea of photographic fun, so I head for the beach. I have no particular subject in mind, so I just keep walking in the hope that something interesting will begin to happen. When it does, then the location chooses itself.

  © 2026

Blow the wind southerly

It's a balmy 11ºC, and the wind is from the south when I set out in the pre-dawn along the south coast. I'm going nowhere in particular, but I'm keeping a watchful eye on the sky as it shows some promise for some good pictures. Half an hour before sunrise I stop at a favourite spot and wait...

© 2026

The blues before sunrise

Overnight rain gave way to clear conditions before dawn, and the wet planking on a local pier took on a deep hue that reflected the sky. The blue hour can be a colourful spectacle, and it's becoming a favourite time to shoot, especially in the morning.  

Last Thursday's Storm Goretti (named by Météo-France, as the brunt of the gale was to be felt there), put paid to the notion of shooting with a different lens every day for a week. Maybe I gave up too easily...

© 2026

The Overstrand

Colourful private beach huts on The Overstrand, Boscombe beach, Poole Bay, in the warm glow of the rising sun.

Photographed with a 24 mm lens.

© 2026

Going long

Built between 1962 and 1964, the fifty-three-metre high Albany flats dominate Bournemouth's East Cliff. Lit by the first rays of sunlight, they are the subject of today's lens: a 300mm telephoto.

© 2026

08:07 - 16:04

For the first time since I first picked up a camera in anger, I've managed to photograph the winter solstice sunrise as an event. Adverse weather conditions in the past have blocked the view, or life's minutiae has gotten in the way. It's also a good thing that I didn't trust any of the forecasts for this morning, as they all predicted either overcast skies or worse still, rain.

Technically speaking the solstice is a specific moment, and this year it occurs at 15:05 GMT. It also signifies the start of astronomical winter. The figures in the title are today's sunrise and sunset times at my latitude and longitude.

© 2025

Less is more

At my latitude there's now less than eight hours of sunlight a day, and as the winter solstice approaches my seascape season is reaching its peak. 

 © 2025

Pre-dawn light

When the sun is below the horizon the light can often be more photogenic than having the subject directly lit by it, as with these beach chalets on a local seafront. Sunrise was nothing spectacular this morning due to a cloudless sky, but what was going on behind me turned out to produce a better image.

© 2025

Out on the weekend

The final stages of wooden groyne replacements along the length of Poole Bay have been underway for a few weeks, and are scheduled to be completed by March next year. So far, any winter storms arriving in the UK have largely missed the south coast, and the team doing the work is able to take weekends off.

© 2025

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

Not thinking

It's on days like this that I have the beach to myself. Okay, there is the periodic dog walker, or hardy early morning fitness enthusiast that passes by, but that's it; there's nobody trying to work on their suntan. 

It also looks like rain.

From time to time I get enquiries: "Just what are you photographing?" is a common probe from the bemused, clearly of the thinking that such drab conditions are likely to produce anything worthwhile. I gesture towards the scudding clouds and rolling surf, and more often than not they walk on none the wiser.

But then again they're not thinking in monochrome.

© 2025

The end of the beginning

British Summer Time has ended; Storm Benjamin has skimmed the south coast and moved east; the sky is clear and it's low tide at dawn. It's the combination of the last two that has me out well before first light, in search of a subject to photograph.

Finding a tide pool for a composition is one thing, but it staying pristine before it gets trampled on by dog walkers (and their dogs), and early morning exercise enthusiasts before the light is right, is another. 

Today I'm lucky.

© 2025

A fleeting glimpse

When going out in the early morning with heavy cloud cover there's always the chance that I will return empty handed from a photo shoot. It nearly turned out that way today, but for the ten minutes of light immediately after sunrise. 

After that the sun rose above the distant cloud bank and disappeared for the day.

© 2025