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

Making progress

I've yet to perfect this shot of the obelisk and surrounding countryside on Ballard Down, Isle of Purbeck, but I feel I'm getting close.

© 2023

Sheep

                                                                                     Rustic harmony

© 2023

When the sun goes low...

                                                                          Late afternoon, Boscombe beach.

© 2023

LSWR T3 - No. 563

The recently restored LSWR T3 class locomotive No. 563, running at Corfe Castle, Dorset. Built in 1893, the engine hadn't steamed for over 75 years.

Hving dodged the scrapyard in 1948 the engine was donated by the National Railway Museum to the Swanage Railway in 2017, whereupon it underwent 6 years of restoration, at a cost of £650,000.

© 2023

Leave it alone

Created by the design studio Lucid Creates, the 15 metre (49 foot) high illuminated portal that stands on a local beach has, naturally, attracted mixed feelings.

Part of the Arts by the Sea Festival, and only scheduled to remain there for a week, the arch has been mostly welcomed by the locals, as well as visitors to the area. But the inevitable 'criticism/objection/can't see the point of it' by a small minority to the local town council has prompted the latter to announce its early removal. 

However, it looks as if by the time the contractors that erected the work are booked to dismantle it, the arch will have remained in position for as long as intended

© 2023

Deal pier

               Just before the skies parted, and we ventured inland to sample the culinary delights of Deal, Kent.

© 2023

Cloud echo

                                                             A tree and its attendant cloud, Nine Barrow Down.

© 2023

On Ballard Down

                                                              One of the occasional inhabitants of Ballard Down.

© 2023
 

Rendezvous Street

                                                                 A wall in the Creative Quarter of Folkestone.

© 2023

The village of Corfe Castle

Named after the Norman castle ruins, Corfe Castle village nestles in a gap in the chalk ridge that makes up part of the Purbeck hills. The castle has to be one of the most photographed locations in the county, so it's something of a challenge to come up with something different.

Photographed on the descent of Nine Barrow Down (the Ordnance Survey map show 12 Anglo-Saxon tumuli), the Down is 196 metres above sea level at its highest point. It's something that separates the casual snapper from the more determined shooter, as the climb is either long and slow, or swift but steep, depending on which end you start.

There's a shot here that I have yet to perfect, and I know it will be down to chance when - or if - I get it.

© 2023

Cathedral of the Purbecks*

For such a small parish - the 2011 census estimated 166 residents in the village of Kingston - the Church of St James's on the Isle of Purbeck, Dorset, is a substantial size for its purpose. Because of its proportions it is also known locally by the title of this post.

Built on the site of a chapel of ease that had existed since the 12th century, work began on the current building in 1874, and took six years to complete.

*Purbecks is a misnomer, much to the annoyance of the local inhabitants.

© 2023

Misty days

 

© 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

Blue door

At 5 a.m. today the Met Office web site shows no cloud to the south as far as France. This almost certainly means nothing too photogenic as the sun rises, so my wide-angle lens stays at home in favour of the super-telephoto. Lugging a 300mm f/2.8 lump of glass to the beach (lugging this lump of glass anywhere) is becoming a chore these days, but the hope is I'll get some good images as the sun's orb breaks the horizon over the sea.

I don't. What I'm seeing on the camera's screen as I shoot is anything but exciting, so instead I turn the lens inland to photograph the light - or more accurately - the effects of it. The door is painted blue, but the early direct light of the sun, 12 minutes after it has appeared, changes the colour completely.

 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

2023

Okay, the second half of last year was a wash-out from a photographic point of view. The unusually high summer temperatures put me off going outside unless necessary, and my reacquaintance with music (and the electric guitar) took up most of my energies from then on.

When I did find the time and inclination to get out somewhere with a camera, more often than not the light was less than inspiring. Add to that, the last week of 2022 and I was laid-up with the Covid-19 virus.

Today is my first day out of isolation - and out of the house since Christmas - and the dawn light gives me something to point a lens at.

© 2023

Winter solstice dawn

It's the winter solstice in the northern hemisphere, and at the moment of sunrise the sun is nowhere to be seen. There is a vague pink tinge in the sky to the east as dawn approaches - and I take a few insurance shots - but decide there's nothing really worth seeing.

Instead, I start shooting with black & white conversions in mind.

© 2022

Early morning light

 

© 2022

From monochrome, to monochrome

I'm on the beach roughly 30 minutes before sunrise, in the hope of something spectacular. There is a good deal of broken cloud in the sky and it all looks very promising, so I get my camera ready... and wait.

Sunrise itself comes and goes, but there's almost no colour in the sky. Instead, the scene maintains a monochromatic grey, which is rmoather disappointing.

But all is not lost, as I select the frame with the best foreground water pattern and go to town with a secondary mono treatment.

© 2022

Predetermined

Early starts are that much more convenient now that the clocks have been returned to Greenwich Mean Time (GMT). In addition, the sun barely creeps into the sky at my latitude during the winter months; rising and setting over the sea. This often produces opportunities for spectacular seascape images, and all during 'office hours'.

In spite of the broken cloud at sunrise today there are only shades of grey in the sky, so I decide that everything I photograph will be converted to black and white.

© 2022

Shower dodging (well, almost)

 

© 2022

Big clouds

                                                    Big storm clouds, but without the storm: my kind of sky.

© 2022

Early morning beach

Bouts of strong winds and torrential rain - interspersed with a few hours of calm - seem to be the norm this week as yet another battering rolls in off the Atlantic. And whilst it's not exactly the kind of autumn weather you want to be strolling around in, it does provide plenty of atmospheric turbulence for seascape photography.

© 2022

 

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

On the turn

The unseasonably warm weather is delaying the visible onset of autumn, but at last the trees are beginning to turn in the Dorset countryside.

© 2022

Looking back

                                               Corfe Castle, with its namesake village, viewed from West Hill.

It's rare that I climb the hill that overlooks this well-known Dorset landmark, but today I make the effort and have a few minutes before I lose the light and it starts to rain.

© 2022
 

Far Corfe view

                                                                 Corfe Castle, viewed from Sandy Hill.

© 2022

On display

It's Monday morning, and whilst most people are making their way to work it's just me and the pigeons down by the seaside.

This time nature obliges with a display of colour.

© 2022

Never before

24º C at 7:00 a.m. is not normal for this country. Neither is the projected 41º in some parts of the country later in the day. For the first time an Extreme Weather warning has been issued by the Met Office, and many people are struggling to cope.

The fact is, the UK is simply not prepared for such conditions, unlike our European neighbours - and other hot climates - that adjust their working practices to avoid the heat of the day (siesta), or have air-conditioning at home or in the workplace. Temporary as this heatwave may be, it is surely a warning of things to come.

Addendum: Heathrow broke the 40ºC mark at 12:50 p.m.

 

© 2022

Christmas gift from 2019

Inflating the envelope
 

Leeds Castle

Gaining altitude

Flying high enough to see the curvature of the Earth (actually it's shot using a fisheye lens)

Shortly after landing

Delayed because of the Covid pandemic lockdowns - and several cancellations thereafter because of un-flyable weather - it was shortly after 6 a.m. today that the Spitfire balloon took off from the grounds of the Great Danes Hotel* near Hollingbourne, Kent, with Nic and I onboard.

Operated by Kent Ballooning, the flight (in perfect conditions), reached an altitude of 3,000 feet, lasted 1 hour 25 minutes and covered 9.8 miles (15.2 km), before making a textbook landing at the Kent Glider Club.

*One of the hotels used by The Beatles during the filming of Magical Mystery Tour.

© 2022

126 Panorama Road

I have passed this wall numerous times over the years, but it's only recently that I noticed the sign at the entrance to the above address. Of course, the locals knew its significance at the time, as it was of the bungalow that John Lennon bought for his Aunt Mimi (Smith) in 1965.

After her death the house, then known as Harbour's Edge, was sold and later demolished in 1994 to make way for a new property on the site. It's nice to see the current owners are keeping the spirit alive.

© 2022

No relation

I hadn't planned to do a hill walk today (no, really), but it was the spontaneous boarding of a passing bus and the lure of an interesting sky that led me to the top of Ballard Down by early afternoon.

I had already made the decision to shoot in black and white before I arrived, choosing to photograph my subjects in their own right, rather than how they relate with their surroundings in the landscape. That way I could make the most of those skies.

© 2022

Hard to resist

No more climbing in the hills until autumn? Did I recently say that? Well, yes, I did, but when the skies are like this it would be churlish to ignore such activities.

Mid-day light at this time of year can be brutal - especially when it's clear - but the constantly moving clouds produce shadows that give shape to the landscape.

© 2022

Later that same day...

Not content with photographing the solstice dawn, I take a morning trip to the Purbeck hills, primarily because the sky looks so interesting and I might get something good.

This lone tree on Nine Barrow Down is echoed by the cloud formation above it. I use a polarising filter to increase the contrast, knowing full well I will convert the image to black and white when I get home.

© 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

White Cliffs Country

Looking west towards Port of Dover

South Foreland Lighthouse.

This morning should have featured a hot air balloon flight, but for the umpteenth time since the start of the Covid pandemic it has been cancelled; this time due to poor weather. 

Intent on not wasting what are still decent conditions, Nic and I visit the South Foreland Lighthouse - situated near St Margaret's Bay - and walk the cliff path to Fan Bay Deep Shelter.*

The route provides panoramic views of the English Channel - and on a clear day to France - as well as the famous White Cliffs.

*Tunnels constructed 23 metres below the chalk cliffs to provide shelter and accommodation for the artillery battery during World War II.

© 2022

 
 

The last day of Spring.

The last day of Spring, and quite possibly the last day walking in the surrounding hills... at least until autumn. 

© 2022

Knocking-off time

Although the holiday season is yet to get into full swing, the local beaches are notably deserted. Showery weather is the most likely cause, and after a second afternoon downpour the on-site lifeguard decides he's had enough for one day.

© 2022

St James church

 

Late spring, and nature is back in full swing on the Isle of Purbeck

© 2022

Red

                                                                                                Bus stop wall.

© 2022

The urban micro landscape

                                                                                                  City leaf.

© 2020