Expect the unexpected...

From what I can garner, the Met Office weather forecast is as chaotic as the emerging season of spring: neither seem to be able to make their mind up. Instead of the predicted cloud cover I have warm spring sunshine, and flowers beginning to bloom three months early, as with the common hawthorn (left).

My original intention was to photograph emerging willow catkins along the Dorset Stour - that, too, is happening (but at roughly the right time) - but the hawthorn was completely unexpected.


105mm f/2.8D Sigma macro lens. 1/1600 at f/5.6 - 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 400, Monopod


© 2012

Pay day...

Today couldn't be any more different from yesterday's dark skies and rain. It is, without fear of contradiction, a fine and sunny Spring day, with crocuses blooming in a local park and temperatures of 16ºC.

Persistence also pays off handsomely, after two weeks of returning to the same location in search of a good sunset photograph at low tide. Low water is due late in the afternoon, and I walk west along the shoreline of Poole bay, Dorset, for a mile or so, snapping waves and cloud patterns, with the intention of timing my arrival at a favourite spot to coincide with the event.

It's a spring tide, the lowest of the month, and the required tide pools and expanses of flat, wet sand are all in place at the location I want to shoot at; but the sky isn't. Well, it's where it should be - up above - but not interesting.

I decide to stick it out and hope nature delivers before the tide turns and I'm forced to retreat; and it does - in spades. I make a good number of images as the sun drops below the cloud bank to produce a dramatic sky that reflects superbly in my chosen pool. Perfection.


12-24mm f/4G AF-S Nikkor. 1/500 second at f/11. - 0.67 EV compensation. ISO 200


© 2012

Fetch...

It's the sort of day that most people hate: not particularly warm, windy and raining - not what you might call outdoor weather - unless you are a photographer.

The tide predictions for this week indicate low water towards late afternoon, and I decide to be there with my camera in search of large expanses of pristine wet sand, and possibly dramatic cloud formations reflected in tide pools. Except it is raining. And the cloud covers the entire sky.

But I'm not going to let that stop me. I'm on the beach roughly half an hour before low tide, and as far as I can see in either direction, I'm the only one there. I trudge into the wind and steady rain until I reach Boscombe pier, where I take a number of photographs of wooden groyne posts set against a stormy sky.

All standard stuff,  but it's the sudden appearance of another brave soul willing to brave the murky afternoon and exercise their dog that raises my hopes for something interesting. Repeatedly, the owner flings a ball and the pooch willingly gives chase, while I attempt to compose through a wet and misty viewfinder. After 25 shots I get the image I'm after.


24-70mm f/2.8G AF-S Nikkor. 1/125 second at f/8. + 0.67 EV compensation. ISO 800


© 2012

Running man (and his dog)...

True to the Met Office's prediction, the cold snap has been replaced with mild weather. At this time of year there is the usual trade off: clear/cold, or cloudy/mild. The latter prevails this afternoon as I set out with my camera, and once again I choose to shoot seascapes. I find this time of year conducive to dramatic images, as the sun is low in the sky and strong winds often produce rough seas.

No sooner than I arrived at the cliff tops at Southbourne, I am presented with dark, broken cloud, pierced by shafts of sunlight that pick out and illuminate various details. This could prove interesting. The beach itself is almost deserted, apart from the occasional dog walker, or runner, as seen here. I time my exposure to coincide with the figure running into the light.

Spring must have arrived: official! On my way home I notice that all three tennis courts in a local park have a match being played. Good news, indeed.


24-70mm f/2.8G AF-S Nikkor. 1/800 second at f/11. + 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 200


© 2012

Taking my time...

The cold snap has turned out to be anything but, in my neck of the woods: cold, yes, but not freezing. In fact, it turned out to be such a pleasant day I ventured out again during mid afternoon for some more photography, but at a more relaxed pace.

I say relaxed, as this morning's shoot was very much 'let's get this over with quick', due to the cold. As I've mentioned elsewhere on this blog, the (very) cold is starting to get to me, despite all the appropriate clobber for insulation. Maybe I need to upgrade it all, I don't know.

So, Sandbanks it is. The moment I arrive - it's low tide - I'm faced with dramatic cloud formations and great light and immediately start making photographs. The light continually changes, and I have to work quickly to get what I'm after, and keep a wide angle lens on the camera to capture as much of it as possible.

The image was taken moments before the incoming tide ruined the reflection, as the sun set over Brownsea Island on the horizon.


12-24mm f/4G AF-S Nikkor. 1/320 second at f/13. + 0.67 EV compensation. ISO 400

© 2012

The gloves are back on...

For the next day or so Dorset (at least) will be plunged back into winter with yet another cold snap, but all should be back to normal by Tuesday - at least that's what they tell me. Mind you, the Met Office was bang-on with its weather prediction for where I live, yesterday, so who am I to argue?

They also have it right for today: clear sky and a widespread frost. I'm going to need the gloves again. I decide to keep the dawn shoot fairly local, purely because of the sub-zero temperatures, and the fact that earlier starts are becoming a necessity. These days I can tolerate one or the other, but not both for any length of time. Sunrise today is 7.13am.

At the predicted time the sun pops up over the Isle of Wight - some nine miles distant (image) - and I make a number of photographs to record the event. Unfortunately, there is no cloud in the sky whatsoever, so I crop the final image to a square shape to compensate for the lack of interest in that department.


300mm f/4 AF-S Nikkor. 1/800 second at f/10. + 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 400. Monopod.


© 2012

The nifty fifty...

Today I'm travelling light. Two lenses: a 50mm and a fisheye - both prime lenses - both small and fast.

However, I'm prowling the seafront of Poole bay with little in mind to shoot (not always the best approach), and with that mindset I am seeing very little. I take a series of photographs with the same theme as yesterday: weathering and decay, but to be brutally honest, I have a boat load of similar images taken over the years that will never see the light of day. In short, I'm bored

During times like these, if nature is not going to do it, it's up to me to inspire myself. I try to do this by using the fisheye lens on Boscombe pier, hoping to get something graphic and interesting, but with dull skies and flat light it is just not coming together.

The pier is about to close, and I call it a day, but as I am leaving I pass a family hurling chips (French fries) to a flock of black headed gulls. I quickly switch back to the 50mm lens and fire the shutter each time the viewfinder fills with a sufficient number of gulls (all guesswork).

But almost as soon as it starts, it's all over. The food runs out and the gulls fly off. This above image is the last shot of the day.


50mm f/1.8 AF Nikkor. 1/400 second at f/5.6. + 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 400

© 2012

Deteriorated and cracked...

For the second day running I don't need gloves when out shooting, as the mild weather continues. Whether it stays like this for long is neither here nor there: spring is not far off. Today, I see the first showings of crocuses and, bizarrely, a dead wasp - insect activity is apparent on days like this. On top of that the Bournemouth Eye (a tethered balloon) is flying above the local gardens. Things are looking up.

However, the skies are overcast, so I decide to spend some time getting re-aquainted with a favourite lens. It's the fastest lens I own in the aperture department (and amazingly sharp). I initially intended to shoot with the lens wide open, so as to blur backgrounds for pictorial effect, but as there are no suitable subjects forthcoming I opt to shoot detail in the landscape.

Today's photograph is a closeup of the side of a refreshment kiosk on the seafront, showing how the paintwork and advertising have deteriorated and cracked, having been subjected for years to a harsh environment of sea air and wind-blown sand.


85mm f/1.4D AF Nikkor. 1/500 second at f/5.6. - 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 400

© 2012

Optimists...

Spring is definitely in the air: the weather proves it. For the rest of the week (at least) I am due mild weather, albeit with rain by the weekend - but at least it's not cold - and daylight hours are increasing noticeably.

After attending to some late morning business I spend the afternoon strolling along the seafront of Poole bay with a camera, enjoying the light and the calm conditions - photographing this and that and nothing in particular.

In fact, I have several hard drives already bursting at the seams with images I am getting, and I'm beginning to ask myself just why I'm spending my time shooting where I am when nature is beginning to awake elsewhere... and I'm not there to capture it. But it is as I approach Boscombe pier that I catch sight of two sporting optimists - the wind surfer and the fisherman (he's there: just look for him, but why he is on the pier 42 minutes after closing time is a mystery).

All things equal, the fisherman stands a chance of catching something, but the lone water sports enthusiast has little chance as there is no wind. Instead he slowly drifts to and fro while I photograph his progress. Granted, it is easier to shoot such a sport at such a slow pace, but it doesn't produce very dynamic images.

He looks nice against the sunset, though.


24-70mm f/2.8 AF-S Nikkor. 1/200 second at f/11. + 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 400


© 2012

Slow down, and be considerate...

Thank goodness all that cold weather has gone - at least for the time being - as it makes dawn shoots much more tolerable. In contrast to temperatures of the past two weeks or so, it's a rather heady 4ºC as I set out in the semi-darkness, heading for the beach.

I'm still able to photograph a sunrise over water at this time of year, but ten days from now there will be no point on Poole bay, Dorset, that I will be able to do so until the autumn (18th October, to be precise), as the event will be obscured by the Isle of Wight. Spring marches on.

I didn't bother to check relevant tables before leaving the house (it was not important for what I had in mind) but the unexpected bonanza of an ebbing tide and a flat calm upon my arrival at the seaside was most welcome. I've recently taken to shooting from a monopod again with all lenses, as it allows me to use small apertures for greater depth of field without bumping the ISO too high in low light situations. Apart from the quality aspect, it tends to slow me down and produce a more considered approach to composition.


24-70mm f/2.8 AF-S Nikkor. 1/60 second at f/8. ISO 400.


© 2012

No such thing...

For the last time this week I walk the same stretch of coastline along Poole bay, Dorset. Five consecutive days in the same area: each day something different.

Of course, I'm not out to replicate the images I shot the previous day, but then I couldn't if I tried. As I hinted in my previous post, even at the same location with the same light, there will always be something to set it aside from what came before.

Today's photograph was taken within a few feet of where I shot yesterday's picture, and almost at the same time of day, yet the difference is striking. Apart from the cloud formation - and the fact that yesterday's photo was converted to monochrome - the sand patterns are more defined, producing pools of water that reflect the sky. Proof, if proof were needed, that there is no such thing as the definitive photograph of a subject.

12-24mm f/4G Nikkor. 1/250 second at f/11. + 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 400

© 2012

How many more times...

I've decided to make it a theme for the week: photographs taken during casual strolls along the shore at low tide, Poole bay. For the fourth consecutive day I take my own sweet time walking several miles along the sand, making images of what I find interesting below the surf line.

I have sometimes been asked what is the point of returning to the same location for more photography; surely I have more than enough pictures of such and such? Well, the simple answer is: no. No matter how many times I retrace my steps I always come across something different to shoot that I missed the previous time, or simply because the light is different - never better - just different.

Today is no exception, and I shoot nearly one hundred frames, on this occasion concentrating on the play of winter light on the wet sand of Boscombe beach, Dorset (photo). Despite the desolate feel the mono conversion produces, spring is just around the corner, and daylight hours are increasing noticeably. These days my favourite time of year.


12-24mm f/4G Nikkor. 1/250 second at f/11. + 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 320


© 2012

Ramble on...

The second cold snap of the month has arrived, although temperatures are higher than forecast yesterday (- 5ºC) with a "balmy" - 1ºC on the thermometer. This second figure is almost certainly due to the blanket of cloud across the county and beyond,

Becoming accustomed to taking a relaxed attitude to my photography I make another ramble on foot along the beach at low tide, shooting whatever takes my fancy. Light levels are low, so I concentrate on details in the landscape, as here, with the wood grain pattern on a groyne post. Years of constant exposure to a harsh environment has caused the greenheart to split and discolour, and together with the sand makes for an interesting study in hue and texture.


50mm f/1.8D AF Nikkor. 1/60 second at f/8. - 0.67 EV compensation. ISO 320. Monopod

© 2012

Nic's stone...

Another mild day along the Dorset coast, but this is about to change overnight, with temperatures forecast to drop to -5 ºC tomorrow. So, once again, I opt to walk in search of photographs while the conditions are still favourable, and again choose the beach.

I'm better equipped than I was yesterday - not only lens wise - but I also have a monopod to steady the camera. I normally use such an item with super-telephoto lenses, but I noticed a significant proportion of images from yesterday suffering from a hint of camera shake when shutter speeds dipped below 1/80th of a second. I need all the support I can get.

It's approaching late afternoon as I arrive on the seafront, and the tide is well on its way to being at its lowest. I start taking shots of light reflected in the exposed wet sand, but I'm also doing something else. I'm keeping an eye out for interesting stones - especially ones that have holes all the way through - for my best friend Nic: also a fellow photographer (as well as a collector and maker of things beautiful and interesting).

I had only just received a text message from her when I turn and find just what I'm looking for (photo), recently exposed by the retreating surf. Before I pick it up I photograph the stone in situ (and yes, one of those holes goes from one side to the other). Keen observers will notice my reflection in the larger bubbles as I crouch low to take the photo.


50mm f/1.8D AF Nikkor. 1/50 second at f/6.3. - 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 200


© 2012

Bolts, limpets and barnacles...

Today, I'm on foot. It's been quite a while since I've set out to take photos without some form of transport, but I decided I wanted a more relaxed approach to photography for the day. Even the comparative freedom afforded by a bike can sometimes curb a spontaneous approach; often missing potential subjects as I ride on my merry way.

The weather has broken here, and freezing conditions make way for overcast skies, little wind and relatively mild temperatures: ideal for an amble along the surf line of a local beach. As the tide retreats I'm constantly on the search for objects exposed by, or affected by, the retreating waves. I shoot numerous photos of shells and isolated stones on the smooth wet sand, but it's details on the wooden groynes that produce today's image, with this small gathering of limpets and barnacles, clustered around a bolt holding the greenheart timbers together. Interestingly, a few of the limpets have barnacles!


50mm f/1.8D Nikkor. 1/60 second at f/8. + 0.67 EV compensation. ISO 400


© 2012

Just as capable...

It's not very often that I post an image that was not shot on the date of the post itself, but today I feel the need to redress the neglect that Christchurch harbour has suffered in comparison to its nearby neighbour, Poole.

I have read a number of local articles (as well as web searches that have let to this blog) about how the sea at Poole - and in particular the North Haven area, near Sandbanks - has frozen during the current cold snap. Indeed, Poole, with its continued growing economy and development is the more glamourised of the two, but I'm here to give Christchurch a fair crack of the whip and show it is capable of freezing just as much.

The photograph, taken yesterday, shows the extent that the sea has frozen at Mudeford Spit, which runs along the Eastern side, with the much prized beach huts arranged in orderly fashion along the edge. There is great competition to rent one of these huts for the summer season, and the (rare) opportunity to buy one will currently dent your wallet to the tune of £145,000.


24-70mm f/2.8 AF-S Nikkor. 1/160 at f/11. + 0.67 EV compensation. ISO 200


© 2012

End to end...

Another crisp winter's day on Dorset's coast, and if anything, colder than yesterday. This is borne out by looking at the Met Office's weather chart (minus 1ºC, they claim), and the fact that there is a greater portion of frozen harbour than yesterday when I return to Christchurch during early afternoon.

Although colder than yesterday, there is little or no wind, so it feels much more comfortable to be out with a camera in the depths of winter. I shoot a number of frozen waters-edge images before moving on to the animal life - of which there is very little, today - and the boats, of which the same can be said. The light, however, is very appealing.

I decide to call time and begin to make my way home, but instead, like a dog I read about, kept going, along the seafront until I reached the entrance to Poole harbour at the other end of Poole Bay. I arrive just in time to witness the Brittany Ferries' Cotentin leaving port, seen here shortly after it had left the harbour. Not a particularly momentous event - it does this every day - but again I'm attracted to the light, and the contrasting size and design of the vessels in the image.


Top: 24-70mm f/2.8 AF-S Nikkor. 1/160 second at f/8. - 0.67 EV compensation. ISO 200. Polariser
Below: 300mm f/4 AF-S Nikkor. 1/500 second at f/6.3. - 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 400


© 2012

Ice and sand ripples...

Not content with this morning's cold start I venture out again in the afternoon as temperatures soar to 1º C and head for the southern shore of Christchurch harbour. Upon arrival I'm mildly surprised to find that the water's edge has frozen (left). This, no doubt, is due to the fact that two rivers empty into the harbour: the Avon and the Stour, contributing to the low salt content despite the fact that it is tidal. Christchurch Priory can be seen perched on the horizon.

Following this I wander on to nearby
Mudeford Spit (pronounced Muddy-ford) to photograph the
windswept beach. I'm looking for shape and texture here, and I find it in abundance. One advantage of such a cold day, despite all the sunshine, is the fact that the area is deserted, and the wind-formed patterns have not been disturbed by others. The low afternoon light throws the ripples into relief, and I have already decided to produce monochrome images from the results.

Both images: 24-70mm f/2.8 AF-S Nikkor

Top: 1/500 second at f/11. ISO 400

Right: 1/2650 second at f/11. + 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 400

© 2012

Winter dawns, frozen derailleurs and the beginning of the end...

The cold snap continues over much of the UK, and I'm up well before dawn to inspect the sky. The Met Office and I concur: it's clear. I set off into the approaching dawn and an Easterly wind - eyes watering from the cold - and head to the beach.

I arrive in good time and pull my camera out of its bag. I'm immediately greeted with a low battery warning in the viewfinder: low temperatures take their significant toll on such items, but I should be okay as my reserve battery still reads 69%. After all, I won't be hanging around once I've got what I'm after. Low temperatures are beginning to take a toll on me, too.

On Southbourne beach, Poole Bay, the sun makes its appearance at 7.45am and I start making photographs. Although low tide is not for several hours I've managed to find a tidal pool on the sea shore that I can use as foreground interest (an old architectural design trick - it instills a calmness), and I click away for seven minutes until the sun has climbed above the cloud and the effect has gone. Shoot over.

In that short duration I've noticed the cold for the first time, despite wearing numerous layers of thermal clothing. It started me thinking: this may well be the last winter I shoot at this time of the day. This thought is compounded by the fact that both derailleurs on my bike have frozen, and I'm restricted as to what gears I can use. This, no doubt, it due to the fact that I hosed-down the bike yesterday to remove two days of accumulated mud from riding across nature reserves, and the fact that water still remained in the linkages.

So, for the first time I'm considering being more selective with shooting at certain times of the year. That, plus the fact that lugging heavy glass around is beginning to take its toll. Time to think about selling up and finding something lighter.


24-70mm f/2.8 AF-S Nikkor. 1/160 second at f/11. + 0.67 EV compensation. ISO 400


© 2012

Ducks on thin ice...

A total contrast to yesterday's weather: today we had blue sky, dry conditions and a stiff Easterly wind that gusted up to 30mph (48kmh), so it felt colder than it actually was.

But cold it was, anyway, with temperatures sufficiently low to freeze the surface of a local duck pond - not solid - but enough in places to require a Ferruginous Duck - and, indeed, other species - to scramble up onto the ice to allow it to get from one thawed-out spot to another in search of food. As graceful as ducks are on water, they are somewhat ungainly on land, and in particular, ice. Getting a grip, as it were, is not possible, so they slid from A to B on their bellies (photo).

I photographed waterfowl at this location last March, and as far as I can tell it is the same bird. Now, my reference book of British birds and waterfowl maintains that the featured species of duck is a rare visitor to the UK, with as few as 30 sightings a year recorded. Maybe this particular chap came to visit and decided to stay. Anyway it's in Throop, Dorset, if you want to have a look for yourself.


300mm f/2.8 AF-S VR Nikkor with TC-14EII converter. 1/1250 second at f/5.6. + 0.67 EV compensation. ISO 400. Monopod


© 2012

A winter's day and burnished bark...

By the time I get out of the house for some photography it has become a typical British winter's day: overcast, damp and cold. Temperatures hover at around freezing - evident as broken ice on puddles after recent rain remains frozen, and in some cases has frozen over a second time.

Despite this there is a stark indication that spring has been trying to happen - at least before the current cold snap - in the form of blooming daffodils at Throop, Dorset (right). I first mentioned this in my 7th January post, where the shoots were up but not in flower. I had intended to return earlier to photograph the openings, but what with one thing and another I never managed it until today. A remarkable occurrence for January, to say the least.

Having got my shot by sprawling on the ground (protected by a strategically positioned bin liner - I think of most eventualities), I move on to Stour Valley Local Nature Reserve via the Muscliff Arboretum, and my attention is immediately drawn to a fine example of a Tibetan Cherry tree (Prunus serrula). I have passed this tree numerous times, and why I have not noticed its distinctive bark before is beyond me. I ask a passer by if they can identify the tree, and I'm reliably told it is an acer, but according to the arboretum species listing it is, in fact, a cherry. I will be returning to this particular specimen, with its burnished bark, in the coming months.


Both images: 90mm f/2.8D EX Sigma macro lens.

Top: 1/320 second at f/5.6. - 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 400
Below: 1/320 second at f/6.3. + 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 500


© 2012

A bit of a gambol...

Winter has arrived, it seems, at least along the coast of Dorset. This is validated by low temperatures, an Easterly wind... and snow. Yes, something of a rare occurrence in the area, but at 9.37 this morning I witnessed falling flakes.  Albeit very slight, it would still be enough to make bookmakers acknowledge a white Christmas (had it, in fact, happened on that day - i.e., a payout). So, in a nutshell: today it snowed.

By early afternoon the thick grey cloud had thinned sufficiently to allow a bit of sun through, so I selected an unlikely lens pairing - an 85mm f/1.4  portrait lens, and a full frame fisheye - and get out on my bike to shoot seascape images.

I'm busy photographing waves breaking on the beach at Southbourne when a small short-haired, er... dog, gambols through the waves as they roll along the shore, barking at everything and nothing and clearly having a grand time of it all. By the time I fire the shutter I have already decided to convert the image to monochrome.


10.5mm f/2.8 fisheye Nikkor. 1/500 second at f/8. ISO 400


© 2012

A personal best...

My word, what a lot of weather we're having along the south coast at the moment - more like April showers than winter - but it does give me reason to go out again during late afternoon to see what can be had with a camera.

I'm no sooner riding along Bournemouth's sea front when I'm caught in one of the aforementioned showers and take shelter on Boscombe pier, where I photograph the rain coming down over the Isle of Purbeck. Unfortunately, the pier closes at 4pm at this time of year, so I'm ejected before the gates are locked.

I make my way west before eventually stopping to photograph the last of the afternoon light at Branksome Beach. I'm carrying a fisheye lens with me on this occasion - not the land or sea-scapers first choice of optic -  but occasionally it comes in handy for something a bit different, with its 180º angle of view from corner to corner, and huge depth of field. At least I don't have to worry about level horizons, and straight lines are out of the window, so it's a fun lens to use with the right subjects.

I also think I've made something of a record for this blog, today: 14 posts in a month (and still four days to go).


10.5 mm f/2.8G Fisheye Nikkor. 1/320 second at f/11. - 0.67 EV compensation. ISO 400


© 2012

Halfway to France...

An early morning check of the Met Office's Infrared satellite image tells me all I need to know: clear skies over much of England. That, plus light winds, and it's a recipe for a pre-dawn start for some early morning exercise and photography thrown in along the way, should anything present itself to the camera.

On such ventures it is always my policy to ride into the wind on the outward leg of the trip - it's so much nicer (and easier) to have it on my back going home - so I again cycle west along the front of Poole bay as the dawn begins to break. Sunrise is at 7.50am, but I won't see that due to the cloud bank that so often sits on the horizon (in the photo it is roughly half way across the English Channel), but I start making photographs the moment I arrive at a favourite spot on the beach of Canford Cliffs.

I shoot a number of images into the light as the sun breaks above the cloud, but it's the delicate pastel hues of the early morning light that produces the best image, with Handfast Point and Old Harry Rocks on the horizon.


24-70mm f/2.8 AF-S Nikkor. 1/320 second at f/8. ISO 400


© 2012

Shower clouds and meteorological phenomena...

For once the Met Office's weather forecast was accurate. Hyperbole, of course - we all like to moan about how far out the weather forecast is almost as much as we like to moan about the weather - but today I experienced the full gamut of its prediction.

So, heading into a brisk Westerly wind I arrive at Sandbanks, Poole, as the tide is going out. There are a few kite surfers doing their stuff on the water - and I do mine - with the obligatory shots that I know I'll never use. Even with this in mind it serves as a warm up: to get my eye in and look for images or situations to photograph - getting in the mood, if you like. Ordinarily, these frames languish on one of several hard drives, never to see the light of day again, but earlier this week I executed a pretty severe edit of such images dating back to August of last year, and consigned 2283 RAW files to the trash.

It's as I'm half-heartedly shooting the kite surfers that shower clouds roll in and darken the sky, and rain is visible in the far distance. This is only temporary, because no sooner has the cloud moved directly overhead the horizon begins to lighten. Straight away I know there will be a rainbow to shoot, so I start looking for a suitable scene to capture the event.

The rain itself bypasses me, and I am able to capture the optical phenomenon over the sea, as well as part of the shower system that caused it.


18-35mm f3.5-4.5 ED Nikkor. 1/1250 second at f/8. - 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 560


© 2012

Dustpan and Brush...

The last in the current trilogy of this weekend's sunset photographs (I hope: well it has to be since today is Sunday). I'm finding precious little to shoot at the moment, but with early signs of spring being just around the corner I'm content to make do with the easy subjects.

It had been a mostly clear day along the coast of Dorset, although a gusty wind took the edge of it, but as mid afternoon arrived wispy, high-altitude cloud rolled in. However, not enough of it to rob me of the light.

Low tide in Poole Bay was at 1600 hours, so I venture to the beach for dusk images, plus the hope that again I might be treated to an afterglow and something dramatic. Not so this time, although the sky had good detail once the sun had set (right).

In spite of low water I'm forced to keep an eye out for waves that continually roll up the beach and threaten to engulf my feet - past experience has conditioned me to this - whilst I try to capture wave patterns that in some way echo sky.

Oh, yes, the blog title: I did it for a dare! (don't ask).

12-24mm AF-S Nikkor. 1/400 second at f/5.6. ISO 640


© 2012

f/8 and be there...

f/8 and be there: the mantra of the press photographer - set the lens aperture to that value and let what's happening in front of you do the rest. Wise words, indeed, if you have a subject to photograph, but it's another drab day, light wise, and another late start before the weather gets interesting. With less than an hour to go before sunset I set out on my bike, chasing the light.

The cloud has broken sufficiently, and experience tells me that I may not only get a sunset to photograph, but also an afterglow - more photogenic in my book. This does not always happen once the sun dips below the horizon, but it's always worth waiting to see if it happens before packing up and leaving the scene.

Today it does. I select the widest lens in my bag, and keeping a wary eye on an incoming tide I go down on one knee to get a lower angle. I start making photographs as soon as the sun disappears from view and watch keenly as the strength of the colours on the clouds intensifies. I have to be vigilant and shoot at the peak as the colours are at their strongest for only a minute or so: after that they weaken and fade and the shoot is over.


12-24mm f/4 AF-S Nikkor. 1/100 second at f/8. + 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 800


© 2012

Deliberate flare...

Today almost didn't happen. After yesterday's shoot under heavily overcast skies I decided not to venture into the great outdoors as it was a similar kind of day: heavily overcast. The weather forecast hinted at brighter conditions as the day wore on, but I ignored it.

By mid day the light had not changed a bit. By mid afternoon it looked like it might rain. Then it did. But a quick perusal of the Met Office's satellite photo suggest clear conditions would shortly follow.

It was late in the day when I finally decided to risk it, and cycled down to the seafront at Boscombe, on Poole Bay to catch the last of the light. I arrive as it starts raining again, but not deterred I stand on the shore line and start taking photographs in the rain as the sun sets.

Keeping the front element of the lens dry is impossible in spite of a lens hood (use one at all times, folks), and after several attempts to remove the rain drops I give up and shoot away, allowing the droplets to produce flare in the image - an effect that contributes to the feel of the image.

24-70mm f/2.8 AF-S Nikkor. 1/30 second at f/8. + 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 400


© 2012

Frame within a frame...

The high pressure weather system that was briefly positioned over the UK has since drifted east across Europe, and the skies have become heavily overcast: time for some photography.

Initially, I spend some time shooting details in the sand exposed by a retreating tide in Poole Harbour before moving on to fisherman's dock, where I spend a good forty five minutes attempting to produce an image with a strategically placed gull to complete the composition. All to no avail. It's here that I have a brief discussion - and a different perspective - with another photographer that happens along. We nod to each other in acknowledgement of the cameras we are holding before I speak: "Great light, isn't it?" I say. Clearly mistaking my enthusiasm for sarcasm, he replies: "Terrible, isn't it?"

We are both looking for different things, and both equally valid.

I give up with the gulls and wander onto Poole Quay to see what catches my eye, and it's a window on the corner of Custom House, situated on the quay itself, and the warmth of the scene within that produces today's photograph. However, it's the weather-worn wooden frame that gets my scrutiny, and I select a medium-wide aperture to throw the interior out of focus, and use the wooden arch to produce a frame within a frame, allowing the reflections of the scene behind me to complete the picture.


50mm f/1.8D AF Nikkor. 1/250 second at f/4. - 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 640


© 2012

Crafty little trick...

Having edited and processed this morning's images I check out the weather forecast and realise that the current high pressure is not going to last, and rain is expected mid-week. So it's back on the bike during mid afternoon to make the most of what's on offer.

I cycle to Christchurch harbour, Dorset, with something specific in mind: photographing the local priory from the top of the headland that forms the southern shore - Hengistbury Head. I make a number of images as the sun dips down, but it's not coming together for my taste and I give up on the idea and cycle along the seafront towards Boscombe, keeping an eye out for anything of interest.

The sun has been set some twenty five minutes before I come across the scene here. There is a good afterglow in the cloudless sky, and the sea has turned blue due to the high colour temperature. I decide to photograph the effect. This is the tricky bit.

Most camera meters will try their best to give you an overall balanced exposure under such conditions, but the end result is often too light and unrealistic. This is not what I'm actually seeing. To regain the tones of the scene before me I use a crafty little trick: set the exposure compensation to -2 stops; in other words, force the camera to underexpose by two full f/stops below what it wants to give me. This will produce an exposure far closer to what is actually in front of my lens. Now, this works with Nikon camera bodies in Matrix metering mode. Whether it works in the same way with other makes is unknown to me, but it is something worth considering when faced with pre-dawn or dusk scenes.


300mm f/2.8 AF-S VR Nikkor (VR on) with TC-14EII converter. 1/60 second at f/4. -2 stops EV compensation. ISO 800. Monopod

A life form and its star...

High pressure over much of the UK during the past day or so has resulted in a few of those special winter's days of clear blue skies and cold, bright conditions: time I took advantage of some early light.

I'm up well before dawn, and a swift look outside reveals stars in the sky. It's clear. I decide upon a super telephoto lens to (hopefully) capture the sunrise over the sea, but until I arrive at my chosen location I'm never sure if I have the right choice of optic(s) slung over my shoulder - there can be a distant cloud bank that so often lurks low on the horizon, which not visible from where I live.

I arrive at Southbourne cliffs in the pre-dawn and immediately know I have chosen wisely. No cloud! I make my way down to the beach; set up my camera on a monopod...and wait. I have fifteen minutes or so before the sun is due over the horizon at 8.04, so I spend the time photographing the half moon and making test exposures. I'm trying to anticipate how much exposure compensation to give my basic meter reading, but dial in a plus value as a starting point as I am shooting into the light. I will make adjustments on the fly.

The sun's disc becomes visible at the expected time and I start making photographs. All well and good, but I always feel that scenes like this need a little something extra, and I've taken to habitually using gulls to achieve this. Always a hit or miss technique, but again an obliging bird sails into the frame before the sun becomes too bright and the shoot is over.

300mm f/2.8 AF-S Nikkor with TC-14EII converter. 1/1600 sec at f/5. + 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 400. Monopod.


© 2012

Friday 13th...

Well I ain't superstitious, sang Howlin' Wolf in 1961, and no black cat crossed my trail either, but for a moment the bad luck associated with the above day and date seemed to be playing a hand in the afternoon's proceedings. Having prepared my camera gear and dressed appropriately in thermal everything - maximum temperatures are expected to peak at 6ºC - my final check before leaving the house was the tyre pressures on my bike. It was at this point I thought things were beginning to work against me.

The dust cap on the rear wheel valve was somewhat recalcitrant as I tried to remove it for tyre inflation, but when it finally did yield it also took the valve itself with it as it came free. Nil desperandum: I simply replaced the tube with a fresh one and set off along the coast.

I make a number of stops for photographing whatever takes my fancy along the seafront of Poole Bay, Dorset, but it's the Twin Sails lifting bridge in Poole itself that really gets my interest, set against the winter sky. The bridge was slated to be opened this month, but from what I can glean that won't happen now until early March (the 9th was mentioned in conversation with a fellow snapper), but I'm lucky enough to be treated to a test closure shortly after I arrive (top).

Satisfied I had something of worth, I pack up and head home, but as I cycle along the edge of Parkstone bay it is evident there will be a sunset worth pointing a lens at, so I stop to make a number of exposures with a telephoto zoom lens as the sun dips below the distant hills of the Isle of Purbeck. The lone silhouette of a gull skimming the surface of the water makes the shot. Another successful image, the shooting location of which can be found below.

So, despite a slightly ominous start to today's outing things turned out rather well, dispelling the myth of the unlucky date. Of course, as they say in America: your mileage may vary.









Top: 24-70mm f/2.8 AF-S Nikkor. 1/80 second at f/9. - 0.33 EV compensation. Polariser. ISO 400
Below: 70-200mm f/2.8D EX Apo Sigma lens. 1/640 at f/9.  + 1.33EV compensation. ISO 200


© 2012

Reserved cormorants...

After the (somewhat) recent blustery weather the weekend starts calm and clear, and I make my first visit for some months to the Stour Valley Local Nature Reserve, Dorset. I ride the entire length of the reserve, keeping an eye out for anything interesting (there are otters afoot, they say), but apart from emerging willow catkins there is little to point my lens at.

The area is largely deserted, apart from the odd fisherman along the river bank - surprising since it's a Saturday and the weather is bright - but it's the more expert variety that eventually gets my attention at the North west corner of the reserve. I stop to photograph electricity pylons reflected in the water (left), and notice several cormorants perched high up and drying themselves in the winter sunshine.

I switch lenses for the longest optic in my bag (why do I always have the big stuff at home when need it the most?) and zoom in to capture the scene in greater detail.

I had noticed this particular perch almost a year ago when I first visited the nature reserve, but either the birds or the light was not present when I was, so this time I relatively lucky, super-telephoto lenses notwithstanding, and get some acceptable shots (right).

Although very much in the grip of winter - and much colder days are yet to come, I feel - there are some signs of spring; particularly at Throop, where daffodils are up but not as yet open.

Top: 24-70mm f/2.8 AF-S Nikkor. 1/100 second at f/11
Right: 70-200mm f/2.8D Apo Sigma lens. 1/800 second at f/5.6.
ISO 200


© 2012

Sodium vapour and moonlight...

It's way after dark before I decide to go out for a ride and a bit of photography, but having made the decision to travel as lightly as possible I decide against using a tripod and elect to shoot with available light.

I have six fast aperture lenses - the fastest being f/1.4, but on this occasion I dig out a little used lens that I bought some years ago when I still shot with film. For some reason or other this particular optic fell out of favour and it was high time it got some exercise.

I'm cycling along the seafront of Bournemouth, keeping an eye out for potential subjects, when my progress is eventually arrested by the buildup of wind-blown sand on the promenade: it's too deep to ride through. I push the bike for a hundred metres or so and take a number of photographs of a refreshment kiosk (long closed for the day: maybe the winter), but it's the scene behind me that produces a spark of creativity.

Light levels are very low, and despite the fact that I'm shooting with the lens wide open shutter speeds are appallingly low for hand held photography. The fact that I'm using a wide angle lens helps enormously to achieve a sharp image at such slow speeds, but I have to be careful with technique.  My only real option is to rack-up the ISO to get something manageable. Now, the camera I am using is ancient technology in digital terms (5 years old) and huge progress has been made since those days in digital sensor arrays, and no doubt modern cameras would leave mine standing with high ISO settings, but I have little choice. Digital noise will be a problem.

Contrast is through the roof, so I switch to manual and take a spot meter reading from the sand beneath the light, and add a further 1⅓ stop exposure to my settings to stop the beach recording as a mid grey. I let the lamp burn out in the image. I also decide to leave the ghosting created by the lens as it adds to the atmosphere. I do attempt to correct the colour balance from the orange glow of the sodium vapour lamps used to illuminate the beach front after dark, but because it is a discontinuous spectrum it is not possible for a full correction. I thought you would like to know that.


20mm f/1.8 D EX DG Sigma lens. 1/20 second at f/1.8. ISO 2500


© 2012

Shadow and sand...

Strong winds and rain have been a feature of the UK's South West over the past few days, causing damage to nature and property, but today there was a break in the cloud, leaving blue skies to shoot under. However, the winds remained, gusting up to 45mph (72kmh) along the coast.

Under such conditions I nearly always opt to visit the seaside for photography, but despite the wind there is no sea running, so no chance of dramatic images. Instead, I concentrate on wind-blown sand patterns and shadows as here on the seafront at Southbourne in Poole bay.

Travelling light with only one lens - as I was today - is always going to be a compromise: the photographer can rest assured that in the case of toting a single optic such as a wide angle lens then a telephoto would be more suitable, and vice versa. This time I had chosen a wide angle zoom lens for flexibility, but my eye was seeing detail that ideally required a 50mm lens (or short telephoto) to capture the effect I was after. As a result I have to adjust my eye and look for the bigger composition, however mundane. Fortunately the ripples in the sand and shadows thrown across it help make the foreground interesting.


12-24mm AF-S F/4 Nikkor. 1/200 second at f/11. - 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 200

© 2012

Obliging gull...

The first decent light of the new year and I'm out on my bike for some photography. In fact it's a crisp winter's day with a stiff breeze, and conditions are ideal for water sports, so I head for Poole Harbour to see if there is any action. There is, of course, plenty to photograph, but I have numerous shots of kite and wind surfers and today I'm just not inspired.

The sky had remained a cloudless blue for most of the day, but during mid afternoon clouds roll in from the Southwest and the sky suddenly becomes more interesting than those rubber-clad figures scooting along in the middle distance. I change lenses and start photographing the cloud formations. Interesting as they are, ideally need something as a focal point. I keep making exposures until a gull obligingly flies into position to complete the composition. At that point I know I've got the shot I'm after.

The shower clouds disappear almost as quickly as they arrived, but by that time the light - and the water sports enthusiasts - have gone; closely followed by me.


24-70mm f/2.8G AF-S Nikkor. 1/800 second at f/8. + 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 400


© 2012

Night lights...

Basing today's plans on yesterday's weather forecast turned out to be a mistake (so what's new?) and I postpone my trip for some photography on the Isle of Purbeck, Dorset. However, not being deterred by the Met Office's unspecified grey cloud that blankets the area, I get on my bike, camera over my shoulder, and ride the seafront of Poole bay in search of alternative subjects.

I make a number of attempts at photographing ducks and geese in Poole Park, shooting by holding the camera at ground level and essentially shooting blind. Always a hit or miss technique, and on this occasion the latter prevails and I get nothing of any value: only out of focus images of very poorly framed birds.

It's on my way home that I arrive at the approach to Bournemouth pier, and initially attracted to the fairground lights reflected in the old Waterfront building, but finally opt for photographing one of the rides in operation. There is still enough light to give the sky some detail, but it is essentially a hand-held night shot. Because of this I am forced to shoot with the lens wide open and a higher ISO than I would have liked, but timing the swing of the ride and shooting when it is at its highest helps to keep things sharp.

24-70mm f/2.8G AF-S Nikkor. 1/125 second at f/2.8. - 0.67 EV compensation. ISO 1600


© 2011

Can you see a difference?

Whilst out shooting yesterday afternoon, I had the presence of mind to take a couple of comparison shots of a scene I was working on with my mobile phone camera. I've never done this before, but wanted to know how the results would compare to that of professional camera equipment.

Now, I wouldn't be surprised if my phone camera had all sorts of exposure and zoom capabilities built in, but since I don't intend to use it in any serious capacity I've not bothered to find out what these are (if any). In this respect it is not a fair comparison as the focal lengths are not the same (nor the resolutions in the way of a pixel count) - and heaven knows what the focal length of the tiny piece of glass(?) and sensor dimensions are - but I just wanted to find out what sort of quality I could expect.

I gave the original file a tweak in Adobe Photoshop before resizing it to be used here, and although the native file would only print at 8.5 x 6.5 inches (21.6 x 16.5 cm) compared to the 18 x 12 inch (45.7 x 30.5 cm) RAW file of my Nikon body, I find the phone to be a useful tool as a photographic notebook.

I have no doubt the phone camera images print well in the sizes it is intended for, and reproduces well enough on a web site such as this, but since I carry it with me everywhere I go it may well prove it's worth one day. After all: an image is better than no image.

(no metadata available)


© 2011

Here come ol' flat top...

It's way past noon and I'm still indoors, having a chat with my best friend about photography and the possibilities of what to photograph. The agreed theme for the afternoon's shoot eventually becomes "take a photo of nothing". Almost as soon as it is agreed I have at least one idea enter my head as to what that might be. The final outcome is anything but.

The exercise is to have a walking meditation with a camera over my shoulder, although I bend the rules a bit (well, quite a bit, actually) and take my bike instead. I did stick to the other part of the deal, however, and took just a single prime lens for the afternoon's shoot.

I start in a local park, photographing pine cones and fallen leaves on the grass, but soon find myself on the cliff top of Poole Bay, Dorset, and become fascinated with a distant storm cloud, seen here apparently positioned over the Isle of Wight on the horizon. The warm air rising in the cloud eventually creates the characteristic flat top, which can be estimated at around 36,000 feet  (7 miles/11km), as it reaches the tropopause, between the stratosphere and the colder air of the troposphere. There, I said it.


50mm f/1.8 AF Nikkor. 1/125 second at f/11. - 0.67 EV compensation. ISO 200


© 2011

Blue skies and sooty-grey...

After last night's strong winds and heavy rain the day breaks clear and calm, and I have the idea to visit a location that I've not been to for over a year for some waterfowl photography. My camera bag is already loaded with a super-telephoto lens and body, so it's just a case of dressing appropriately (thermal everything) and get into the car and drive.

As I head to Eyeworth Pond in the New Forest it occurs to me that this is probably the first time I've driven anywhere since October, as I mainly use a bicycle to get to the nearer destinations, these days. It starts to rain on the way, but it's only showers and I remain confident of getting something useful.

Upon arrival I find I have the place to myself, but as I start to set up my gear I discover that in my haste to leave home I've forgotten an important part of my photographic kit: the quick release plate for the ball and socket head on my monopod. It normally remains permanently attached to the foot of my 300mm lens, but I removed it in favour of the geared tripod head when shooting the moon last week, and never replaced it. Of course it won't mount and I have no option but to hand hold the camera. This is only a problem during extended shoots due to the weight, but the light is good and the sky is blue, so I just stand and wait.

There is the usual selection of ducks and drakes on the pond, as well as a cormorant, much to my surprise, but it's the coots, with their red eyes and distinctive white shield that get my attention on this visit. Although they appear black at first glance their plumage is in fact a sooty-grey, that can be seen in the photograph. The water ripples catch the sunlight and add some fill-in light to the feathers, highlighting their true colour.


300mm f/2.8 AF-S VR Nikkor with TC-14EII converter. 1/1250 second at f/4.5. - 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 500


© 2011

Full, but not eclipsed...

As mentioned in yesterday's post, tonight it is full moon. Not only that, but there is a total eclipse of the Moon, although unless you live in the Shetland Islands in the UK it would not have been visible as such.

As it is, I'm thwarted by cloud cover by early evening from a photographic standpoint, and I resign myself to getting no shots of even a partially eclipsed disc in the sky.

I'm chatting with a friend on Skype in the late afternoon and making regular checks of the sky in the hope that something may appear. It's during one such visit outdoors that I see the cloud has broken sufficiently to get something on camera, so I hastily set up on a tripod and start making exposures.

Unlike yesterday, when I was able to expose solely for the Moon's disc, this time I have to compromise detail if I want to record the amazing cloud formation that contributes so much to the image. It's just not possible to record both within the latitude of a digital sensor or film. Something had to go.

300mm f/2.8 AF-S VR Nikkor with TC-14EII converter. 1/80 second at f/5. ISO 400. Tripod and remote release. Mirror lockup. Time: 17.26


© 2011

I see the Moon...

Over the past month or so I've freely given out information on Facebook and via Skype, to those that have asked, of how to photograph the Moon. I start with all the usual advice of: use a tripod, a remote release (or the camera's self timer) and to focus and expose manually, but it occurred to me, as I stepped out of the house and spied Earth's satellite: damn it, man, can you actually do it yourself?

It's been some time since I've made any serious attempt so I thought it was about time I brushed up on the technique. Now, the moon is brighter than most people think, especially now that it is nearly full (that occurs tomorrow) so pretty fast shutter speeds can be employed to help capture sharp images under high magnifications.

One other invaluable tip I can offer is to use the mirror lockup feature if your camera has one (we are generally talking SLR bodies, here). Once that is up and out of the way a few moments can be allowed for all vibrations to die down before the shutter is fired. Despite advanced damping engineered into modern camera bodies, the mirror is still capable of taking the edge off images such as these as it clatters up before the shutter blinds open. Some camera bodies also cause the mirror to be locked up when the self timer is activated, but I prefer to judge the exact moment of exposure myself.


300mm f/2.8 AF-S VR Nikkor with TC-14EII converter. 1/800 second at f/6.3. ISO 320. Tripod and remote release. Mirror locked up. Time: 16.46 GMT


© 2011

Cloud shadows...

At one time I would have set the alarm clock for early starts, but these days I appear to leave it purely to chance that I will wake up before dawn to go out for some early morning shooting. Mind you, there haven't been too may good opportunities for good light of late, so I don't feel I have missed anything.

This morning it is cold. Cold enough to wear thermal underwear, but I don't. I'm only intending to stay until the sun breaks the horizon, but a distant cloud bank scuppers that idea. Even so, I needed those thermals.

I spend around 50 minutes shooting aircraft contrails, dog walkers and passing birds as the light becomes more and more interesting. The sun rose at 7.56am, but it's some 30 minutes later before I shoot the image of shadows cast upon the sky by the clouds.

I do wish I had worn those thermals.

70-200mmf/2.8 Apo Sigma lens. 1/5000 second at f/5.6. ISO 640


© 2011

Silver sea...

The weather forecast for today was way off. Overcast with some rain was predicted, but by early morning the clouds had rolled away and blue skies prevailed.

It was mid afternoon before I ventured out with a camera, and once again I chose the seaside for my shooting location. I could have (and did) make all the usual shots of walkers on the surf line, or cloud formations, but just before the sun dipped down behind a cloud bank to the West, I took a series of photographs which I knew I would convert to black and white as I fired the shutter. Pointing the lens into the light produced a high contrast mono image. Just the way I like 'em.

70-200mm f/2.8 Apo Sigma lens. 1/800 second at f/8. + 1 stop EV compensation. ISO 400


© 2011

December dawn...

A pre-dawn inspection of the sky from my bedroom window confirms yesterday's weather forecast: it's clear. It takes me just a few moments to pack my camera bag with two lenses, have breakfast and cycle to the beach at Southbourne, Bournemouth, and photograph the sunrise.

Conditions are near perfect and couldn't be more different to the corresponding day last year at the same location. The sun rises at 7.47am and I start making photographs. I'm lucky this morning as the cloud bank near the horizon allows me to shoot the sun as it appears over the sea, then shortly after gives me a sunburst from behind the cloud while it is still low in the sky.


70-200mm f/2.8 Apo Sigma lens. 1/200 second at f/11. + 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 400

© 2011