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

Only me as a witness

There's a strong northwest wind blowing, and that nearly always means rapidly changing weather; great for outdoor photography. I have no predetermined location in mind for shooting this morning, but one or two gaps in the pre-dawn sky give me hope that I might get some usable light at the beach. Surprisingly, my local pier gates were wide open to all comers as I pass by at 05:30 (two-and-a-half hours earlier than usual), and that gave me the option of shooting along the surf line from an elevated position at sunrise.

The gusting winds of the past thirty-six hours or so have blown the beach smooth; I just need some light. Experience, and a watchful eye, tells me I just have to wait - and not for very long, Obligingly, the cloud breaks in the right places and I start to get something good, and because of the early hour I'm the only one there to see it.

© 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

Seasonal change

It's just under three weeks until the clocks are put forward an hour, and British Summer Time (BST) begins. I'm already beginning to lose the sunrise over the sea as the seasons change - as well as the event happening earlier and earlier. Soon, seascape photography for me will be over until the autumn.

On the plus side the beaches are virtually deserted at this time of day, so I don't have to worry about any unwanted elements drifting into shot.

© 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

Brief, but spectacular

Today's weather forecast - although largely accurate in predicting heavily overcast skies and rain, missed out the bit where there would be roughly twenty minutes of colour, followed by about four minutes of sunshine.

© 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

Moving waves

It's the last day of the year (it's also the last sunrise of the first quarter of the century), and winter takes its first real bite on the south coast. Overnight temperatures have dropped to 0º C, but what little wind there is makes it feel closer to -4º C. But that's no excuse to avoid being out with a camera.

It's clear from the offset that the sky won't be happening any time soon, so I concentrate on shapes made by waves lapping onto the beach as the golden hour begins.

© 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

Waves on the beach?

There are times when it seems that all I have to do is to wave the camera about and fire the shutter. Okay, an exaggeration, as composition and timing are of equal importance. But when - for the second day running, I'm presented with a sky such as this it makes seascape photography a piece of cake.

© 2025 

Coincidence, or just the truth?

No doubt it's purely coincidence, but it seems that the best skies for early morning photography can be found a few miles along the coast; in this case at Branksome Chine beach. Maybe there's some truth in that, and the shape of the bay does have a significant effect on cloud formations. All I know is that this morning it didn't disappoint.

© 2025

Painted ladies

At this time of year I find the beach to be almost irresistible when there's the promise of good light at sunrise. All that drama - and so early in the day - draws me in time and time again.

Today, the light is great, but the sky not so. I'm determined not to waste the glorious conditions, and look for an alternative subject. The brightly painted beach huts in front of Boscombe Spa Village provide just that.

© 2025

In the early light of day

As often as not, the success of a shoot can turn out different than planned. I've taken a super-telephoto lens to the beach in the hope of a spectacular sunrise, but the near-cloudless sky dashed all hope of that. 

Turning the lens inland. I spot the beach chalets glowing in the early morning light.

© 2025 

Nowhere has a place to tie-up

                  Early morning beach.

© 2025

Preferential treatment

In the past decade or so, replenishment schemes have built up my local beaches to the point of taking away the exposed expanses of foreshore at low tide. Ripples in the sand, and reflections in tide pools once left by the ebbing sea (and very photogenic), were replaced by a subnstantial sandbank that extended to the low water line. 

But the current increase in winter storms, coupled with high tides, is beginning to shape the shoreline back to the way nature (and I) prefer.

© 2025

In one sixth of an hour

I've been at this photography game for quite some time now, but it still amazes me as to how quickly conditions can change. 10 minutes before this shot was taken it was raining, and the sky was heavily overcast.

© 2024

Good times, not so good times

There are the (admittedly) rare times when all that's necessary is to wave the camera about at arm's length to get good images, whilst at other times it's hard work to get anything usable. Okay, hyperbole regarding that first remark, but today's shoot definitely applies to the second.

All the elements are in place for something memorable to happen as the sun rises over the ocean, but the reality is quite different, and I'm left scratching about making the most of what's available.

© 2024 

Target fixation

It's a calm morning on the coast, with temperatures slightly below average, and although the sky is in a state of flux I'm struggling to find a composition. I'm trying to make something of the tubular framework that sits over the concrete outfall that deals with heavy rainfall in the area, but it's not working. 

The pool of still seawater in the foreground doesn't extend far enough so that I can isolate the structure and make use of the reflection, so I opt to include the pier. I had been so preoccupied with one angle that I almost missed this one. A few minutes later and the cloud cover returned.

© 2024