A lesson learnt...

Expect the unexpected, they say (whomever they are). You do sometimes need eyes in the back of your head when out photographing wildlife, and even then it is all too easy to miss shots.

I roam a good stretch of the Dorset Stour, today, and whilst preoccupied with other, more mundane things, I miss a pair of mute swans in flight against a clear blue sky; numerous fly-pasts of a kingfisher; two grey herons and a little egret - the last two spooked upon my arrival at a bend in the river.

But it's the truly unexpected; the sighting of an otter, that makes my day. I first see it as it surfaces and dives in one smooth action, to my left. I am already set up with a super-telephoto on a monopod, and am stood still. In other words: I am ready. I recognise it immediately for what it is... and wait. Nothing. I cautiously approach the spot on the river bank closest to where I saw it in an effort to catch sight of it again, but it had gone. This wasted precious seconds. Thinking ahead, I then choose to add a tele-converter to the lens should it reappear, and walked back to my camera bag to fish it out. It is as I'm attaching the said converter to the camera body that the otter surfaces again, not twenty feet from me, and swims parallel to the bank for several seconds, watching me as it does... then dives again. This happens while I have no lens attached to the camera, so I get no shots. The otter surfaces for a third time before I lose it altogether, but this time it is just a dark shape under some overhanging branches. Instead of using the (adequate) lens I had on the camera already, I opted to gamble.. and lost. A lesson learnt.

                                                                                    **********************

I first started looking for otter at this location in March of this year, and although there were many anecdotal accounts of their presence, I had not so much as even glimpsed one. Although I wasn't able to photograph it, seeing one in the wild for the first time was quite an experience. I must try harder, next time.

However, all was not lost for the shoot. The arrival of a Chiffchaff later in the day (image), helped to compensate to a large extent, and it is seen here feeding on a Buddleja bush, that itself is growing directly out of the stonework of the old bridge at Iford, Dorset.



300mm f/2.8 AF-S VR Nikkor with TC-14EII converter. 1/2000 second at f/5.6.  -0.33 EV compensation. ISO 400. Monopod


© 2012

Red berries and sunlit reeds...

It is surprising, even in the depths of winter, just how much colour - and life - can be found in nature if you are prepared to look for it. Whilst most think that the advent of autumn sees plant life shut down for the duration, there are some species; Holly, for example, and the Rose Hip (right) that produce their most striking displays during the winter months. Because of this, the former evergreen has always been a popular decoration for the Yuletide season. Although it is possibly too early to be thinking about spring, there are numerous buds appearing on some trees. The cycle never stops entirely.

I am travelling with a fast super-telephoto lens, today, purely for its pictorial qualities rather than reach. Temperatures on this clear afternoon are hovering a couple of degrees above zero Celsius, and once again I am down by the river. Although suitably clad head to toe in everything thermal, I don't hang around for long: the light I want to use for the shoot is fast disappearing behind the tree line, and I have to work quickly.

I never quite felt I did justice to some of the subjects I photographed two days ago at the same spot, so there is always the opportunity to get the same thing - only different. I use the lens close to wide open, for the wonderfully shallow depth of field. It allows me to isolate the red berries agains the sunlit reeds of the far river bank, while the impressionistic blur of the nearby foliage gives a perceived depth to the picture.


300mm f/2.8 AF-S VR Nikkor. 1/1250 at f/4.  - 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 400. Monopod


© 2012

Hedgehogs on sticks and specular highlights...

My photography of late was getting a little bland, in my view, and it needed a bit of a shake-up to get things moving again. I had decided, before I left the house, to try a more creative approach, and packed three fast aperture lenses for the job. I had a location in mind - the Dorset Stour - but even when I arrived I still had no real  conception of what I would do. I needed to be inspired.

There was still a bit of localised flooding from all the recent rain, and my intended route on a mountain bike looked less-than-inviting when I arrived, so it seemed that the shoot would be less than successful. Quite why that should be (since I still had no idea as to what I wanted to achieve), was adopting a defeatist attitude. I needed to pick a subject and work it.

I started taking pictures of teasels (or hedgehogs on sticks, as friend and fellow photographer, Nic, calls them), shooting wide open for some creative blur, but it's not until I start to frame them as silhouettes, set against the specular highlights of the sun reflecting off of the river, that I start to see the possibilities of something good.

From this point on, things start to work for and against me in roughly equal measure. Autofocus refuses to work; the lens continually hunts for focus, and exposure is largely guesswork (in spite of the histogram). Switching to manual focus solves the first issue; experience and a large chunk of luck, the second. What I'm after is a pleasing pattern created by the what the Japanese refer to as bokeh; allowing the out of focus highlights to add significantly to the pictorial quality of the image. I make a good number of photographs, since there is no way to accurately predict when the fast-flowing water will produce the desired effect, and pick the one that jumps off the screen when opened in Photoshop. There is little in the way of colour in the final shot, so I convert it to mono using the Gorman-Holbert Method; adding the subtle blue tone during the process.

The best way I know how to kick-start my photography: Do something different.


300mm f/4D AF-S Nikkor. 1/3200 second at f/8.  -1.33 EV compensation. ISO 125. Monopod


© 2012

Artist block...

It's quite late before I make the decision to write a blog post about today's afternoon shoot by the sea. The reason is, I'm struggling to select an image from the 134 frames of cloud formations over Poole Bay, Dorset. There are the usual repetitious sequences; the outright duff shots; the one or two that didn't quite make it despite my good intentions, but nothing jumps out at me from the screen; nothing seems to be an obvious choice. There are, however, a number of decent enough photographs to spur me on to actually process the images for archiving. The thing is...I'm just not inspired.

Strange, really, since nature treated me to dramatic cloud and light all afternoon - and I didn't even get wet - since all the rain that did happen happened out to sea. Still, it could be worse: I have, on at least one occasion to my recollection, deleted an entire day's shooting - without backing anything up - for the reason mentioned above. Inspiration (or the lack of it).

I feel sure that some day I will look back on folder #881, and wonder why I didn't think there was anything of value contained therein, but for now I will simply add the image that had (possibly) the most drama, and leave it at that. Maybe I will have better ideas tomorrow. Maybe I need a rest.


12-24mm f/4 AF-S Nikkor. 1/640 second at f/8. - 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 200


© 2012

A second bite at the pyrotechnic cherry...

A chance conversation a week ago gave me the opportunity to make amends for a disastrous shoot I had last month, when I returned home from photographing a fireworks display with not one useable image. It happens, if you are not fully prepared (I wasn't), and I put it down to experience (and behind me), and set about the task of capturing the display scheduled for early evening on the end of Boscombe Pier, Dorset.

The event was part of the Boscombe Christmas Carnival, and I set up my tripod on the beach adjacent to the pier, while live music was played from the balcony of the Urban Reef Café on the promenade. I make the mental note of the tenacity of the performers - playing outside on a December night; something I would never have warmed to under such conditions - and wait for the off.

This time I know I am getting the results I am after, although it soon becomes apparent that I am a touch too close to the proceedings for the lens I am using. But it's not really about that; it's more about showing myself that I can work in the darkness and get results. To cap it all, the majority of frames are useable, and convey the scene nicely. Well done, me!

It's what I do after the smoke clears that gives me the best sense of achievement, though, as I turn my lens out to sea and start making long exposures. I hadn't planned on doing this; it was a spur-of-the-moment thing, but since I was already geared-up for such shooting I thought I would give it a try. I am, of course, having to guess exposure (the camera's meter won't work in such low light levels), and I count 'elephants' to help gauge how long I need to keep the shutter open for to allow sufficient light buildup from the nearby beachfront buildings. This is helped by the fact that I am able to assess the results immediately on the screen of my camera - something I was not able to do when I last tried the technique in my film days (quite why I have left it so long to try it digitally is beyond me). I make no attempt to correct for colour balance during the exposure, allowing the warm light to contribute to the overall effect. I like the way the subject stands out against the unexposed blackness of the water, and the fact that the breaking surf has turned a milky white because of the long exposure.


24-70mm f/2.8G AF-S Nikkor.

Top: 3 seconds at f/11. ISO 400
Below right: 30 'elephants' at f/8. ISO 400
Tripod and remote release.


© 2012

All in a row...

After yesterday's debacle involving a power failure at a crucial moment, today I am fully recharged (both mentally and battery-wise), and set off out for an afternoon's shoot in glorious winter conditions. If anything, the sky is too clear. Despite the low angle of the sun at this time of year, a bland expanse of blue isn't my idea of a photogenic firmament. Fortunately, sufficient hazy cloud - plus a few con trails - move in late in the day, and give me something to work with when the time comes.

Although the tide at Boscombe Beach is still an hour or so away from its lowest, there is enough of the the freshly exposed sand to make things interesting, and the two elements I seek come together at the right time. And that's what it's all about, isn't it? Timing. I love the way the ripples of the sand act as lead-in lines, and echo  the sky. I make photographs until the sun has set, but the most successful are the ones where the light has caught the rows created by tidal action.


12-24mm f/4 AF-S Nikkor. 1/90 second at f/11.  - 1.67 EV compensation. ISO 400


© 2012

All my own work...

I've not taken a single shot since last week, despite having some photogenic weather (read: strong winds and rain), but during that period I did spend some time checking over my camera gear - cleaning here; adjusting there - and in particular, attention to my backup camera body. It gets little use, these days, and it is prudent to give certain functions on it some exercise from time to time - such as firing the shutter - to keep things working smoothly and reliably.

Everything checked-out as it should, but I had noticed that the (two) batteries in the grip needed a charge before any serious use. Despite this, I pick the spare SLR up and leave the house this afternoon, along with a single optic. I am not too concerned about the staying power of the batteries, since the light is flat; the sky heavily overcast, and I don't expect to be taking many images. In fact, I take none until I arrive at Boscombe Pier, Dorset. Even then, there is little in the way of inspiration, although I do expose several frames of a dog walker of the flat sands at low tide. It is at this time that I become aware of the low battery warning symbol in the viewfinder. This proves to be worse than I imagined, since a check in the function menu shows that one of the cells is now exhausted, and the second has only 16% of its charge remaining.

No matter, I think to myself. The way things are I won't need it, and continue producing token photographs until shortly before the sun sets... and the light changes. A thin crack appears in the cloud bank shortly before this happens, and the scene is transformed. Not only that, but a man and his dog unwittingly oblige to add a human (and canine) element of interest in the foreground. I know this ephemeral gleam won't last long, and working quickly I start to make photographs. At which point the camera locks-up. I manage just three pictures before this happens, and no matter how much I attempt to cajole the thing to work (as the light gets better and better), it is simply not having it; both batteries are dead, and the camera is now just functioning as ballast.

All my own doing, of course, and I did get something (above), but it is a lesson to be learned; that if something is going to fail, it will choose the most inopportune moment to do so (slaps wrist).


50mm f/1.8 AF Nikkor. 1/250 second at f/5.6. - 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 400


© 2012

Weather-wise, I am between two fronts, as overnight strong winds and heavy rain made way for winter sunshine and an almost windless day, along the coast of Dorset, today. I had been staying with my friend Nic - who lives in Kent - for a few days, and timed my drive home to avoid the bad weather with a couple of hours to spare. However, despite the current calm there are more poor conditions expected over the coming weekend, so it may well be time to get amongst it all with my camera when it comes in.

But for the time being I am making the most of what I have available during late afternoon. I had been eying a lone cloud for the best part of an hour, waiting for it to move in front of the watery, sun... or move anywhere, but it seems determined to hang stationary due to the lack of wind. I had almost given up on it when quite unexpectedly it broke up (image), and instantly became more photogenic. That action, plus the spreading con trails from high-flying aircraft, rescued afternoon's shoot. Hopefully, tomorrow will be different.



24-70mm f/2.8G AF-S Nikkor. 1/2000 second at f/5.6. + 1 Stop EV compensation. ISO 200


© 2012

Rye smile...

                                 (text to follow)

24-70mm f/2.8G AF-S Nikkor.
Top: 1/200 second at f/5.6.  -1 Stop EV compensation. ISO 400
Below: 1/500 second at f/8.  - 0.67 EV Compensation. ISO 400


© 2012

Eastwell, and all's well...

Eastwell Park, Kent

                         (text to follow)









24-70mm f/2.8 AF-S Nikkor.

Top: 1/200second at f/5.6.  + 0.67 EV compensation. ISO 400
Below: 1/1250 second at f/5.6.  +0.33 EV compensation. ISO 400


© 2012

Global village...

"I think Villas-Boas will get the sack, and they will ask Harry Redknapp to come back..."
A snipped of conversation I overhear between two men as they walk past me on Boscombe Pier, late this afternoon. I'm sitting facing the sunset, and watching someone on the beach take a photograph of a small child that may well be viewed by a future generation 100 years from now - assuming, of course, the image is not lost to some system crash, or failure to be transferred to a more up-to-date retrieval system. Just a thought...
 
                                ***********************

I was inspired by, of all things, an advert on Facebook for today's photograph. I didn't actually click on the advert (perish the thought) but the merest glimpse of an editing software technique galvanised me into action. It had been a bright, crisp day, and I was planning to, at the very least, go for a walk with my camera, but now there was no time to waste!

I already have in mind where I will shoot (the seafront of Poole Bay, Dorset), and what the subject matter will be, so I pack a wide angle lens and set off; but not before a bit of swift research online to brush up on what I need to do. I won't go into any details, here, since they can be found in numerous tutorials on the internet (there is even a dedicated site), but initially I need to shoot a 360º panorama to get things moving, and Adobe Photoshop is going play a significant part in the process. The first two sequences I shoot turn out to be pretty boring, but I know I am getting close to what I want when I use Boscombe Spa Village as the focal point in making my Tiny Planet. I am quite pleased with my first attempt, although there is room for improvement... but the seed is sown.


12-24mm f/4G AF-S Nikkor. 1/250 second at f/8. ISO 200.


© 2012

Almost, but not quite...

A dull, damp, grey day in November, and the best of the action won't be happening until the sun has set. I've been watching the Met Office satellite weather photo for the best part of the day, trying to judge whether that clear patch positioned over France and the English Channel will make it to the Dorset coast by low tide. I am optimistic.

As the waters retreat I start to make photographs, but I am dealing with plumeting light levels - and the light itself is flat and uninspiring - but I persevere. There are one or two moments when the cloud breaks for a few moments directly overhead, giving me hope of some directional light, but the holes are soon filled again. I press on.

By the time I reach Boscombe beach the tide has dropped sufficiently to give the options of some reflection shots. I consider shooting bold silhouettes and converting to mono; adding garish colours in post processing, or simply shooting out of focus images... anything to add a bit of interest to the afternoon's shoot.

I needn't have worried. That clear patch I was talking about earlier had almost made it across from mainland Europe - almost, but not quite - to reveal the remnants of the afterglow. The sun had disappeared below the horizon 14 minutes earlier, and I am struggling with apertures, shutter speeds and ISO settings, but a monopod and a wide angle lens saves the day. I am also deliberately underexposing by 1⅓ stops to maintain the mood, but in the end I manage to get the effect I am after.


12-24mm f/4G AF-S Nikkor. 1/40 second at f/5.6.  - 1.33 EV compensation. ISO 800. Monopod


© 2012

Shut up and take photographs...

Inspired by my friend and fellow photographer, Nic - whose idea it was to make a blog post that consisted solely of photographs - I let the images speak for themselves (from today's shoot by the seaside, at low tide).

 

 

© 2012

The second Sunday in November...

It is a bright, crisp autumn day: it is also Remembrance Day, so I set off on my bike to Bournemouth Central Gardens War Memorial, to pay my respects to those that made the ultimate sacrifice in the name of liberty. As always, large crowds arrive for the parade and service, whatever the weather, and today it is performed in brilliant sunshine. 

Apart from the two minute silence at 11am - the time the 'guns fell silent' - it is difficult to keep shooting with a camera without causing an offence to others taking part, so I restrict any photography to before, or after the tribute is over. I have to wait a while to allow those that wish to get a closer look at the wreaths laid by various dignitaries, ex-servicemen and women, and various youth organisations, but once the numbers thin out I am able to get in close.

There are several proud veterans of past conflicts - and others that simply lived through it all - that linger to read the cards and messages left with the poppy rings and crosses, who are all too ready to tell their story to anyone prepared to listen. I talk to two such people; Ken (pictured left) and an elderly lady called Margaret, who's father was a witness to Louis Bleriot landing near Dover Castle, Kent, in 1909.

There are also a good many, both young and old alike, who are clearly there in memory of someone lost in a more modern campaign, as with the foremost wreath in the photograph (right). It is for Rifleman Jonny Allott, a local man, who was only 19 years old when he was killed in 2010 by an improvised explosive device in Afghanistan. The oldest commemoration I was able to find was the cross bearing the name of Harry Broadhurst (top photo - far left) - a member of the Cheshire Regiment - who died at Ypres in 1917.















© 2012

Leaving port...

What ever happened to the cold weather? I thought it had set in for the duration, but today it was rather mild and still. Not that I am complaining. Not only do I get great light to work with, but it is also comfortable to be out there simply taking photographs and not having to brace my self against the elements all the time. It is not so noticeable while I'm on the move, but stand still for half an hour and it begins to tell.

So, I plan to capture something of what us photographers know as the 'golden hour': that hour after sunrise or before sunset, when the light (should it be happening at all) can be stunning.

I find myself during late afternoon on the exposed flats of Poole Harbour, Dorset, with the tide out, taking snaps of a low sun, juxtaposed against the ripples in the sand, but I don't feel I have taken anything worthwhile. I'm still considering my options: Should I wait until sunset to see if the scene develops? Should I go somewhere else? Should I go home?

In the end my mind was made up for me when I hear a single blast on the horn of the Cotentin car and passenger ferry, as it prepares to leave port for France, and I ride to the harbour entrance to get a better look. I have numerous images of this particular ship - both coming and going - but a few more won't hurt, is the thinking. Besides, I might get something different.

In the event, the ferry sails uneventfully on out into the English Channel, but I do take several frames all the same. What is interesting by now, is the light itself, but ideally I need something for a bit of foreground interest... then, out of nowhere the fishing boat sails into view and I take the shot, which proves to be one of the best from the session (my friend Nic has the other).


24-70mm f/2.8 AF-S Nikkor. 1/500 second at f/8. + 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 200 Monopod


© 2012

Muddy boots...

Today I went out shooting the way I used to in the days of film (and getting muddy boots into the bargain), using a tripod to slow the process down. My chosen location was Kimmeridge Bay, Dorset - a place I have not visited since I went digital in 2006, so by my reckoning, seven years. Of course, very little has changed, and although the weather was good, it was too good, and I had to deal with clear blue skies (far from ideal for the landscape photographer). Not only that, but the Army Range Walk was also closed, so my options were fast becoming limited. I opt to get in close to see what I could find.

The rocks at Kimmeridge - part of the UNESCO Jurassic Coast - are known to be 150 million years old, so fossils are to be seen by the keen observer. Whilst fossil hunting itself is not allowed, there is nothing to stop me photographing them. I know of several large examples on the beach itself that are only visible with a much lower tide - but otherwise examples are small or fragmentary and easily overlooked. It is the small pebble and its shadow, perched on a rock that initially attracts my attention, but as I move in to get a better look I notice the ammonite impression next to it. A pure stroke of luck.

I have a half-hearted wander up to the oil well; yes, we have our own version of Dallas in Dorset - without all the squabbling and fighting that I imagine continues in the new television series - but finally decide to get back down to sea level for what promises to be a decent sun set.

I brought a super-telephoto lens along on the off chance I might get to use it for such a scene, and the cloud on the horizon looked like it would eventually work in my favour. I'm set up in what is now becoming a cold wind, hoping everything will remain stable enough to get sharp images, when the Army kicks-off with a spot of target practice at 4.15. I would have thought they would be enjoying a nice cup of tea at that time of day, but no: bang-bang-bang. Joining in with the spirit of the moment, I take 48 shots of my own as the sun dipped down and disappeared below the sea, and the shoot (in both cases) was over.


Top: 24-70mm f/2.8 AF-S Nikkor. 1/80 second at f/11. ISO 200.
Below. 300mm f/4 AF-S Nikkor. 1/1600 second at f/4.5. - 1.67 EV compensation. ISO 200. Tripod and remote release


© 2012

Wic...

I did all the ground work yesterday: checked the weather forecast and tide tables (favourable); made a mental note of what I would need to pack in my bag for the photography I had in mind (fairly straightforward), but somehow my planned trip to Kimmeridge Bay, Dorset, didn't even come to mind once I woke up today. Instead, I set off to Christchurch Harbour, and specifically, Wick Fields, with the idea to photograph the priory from across the Dorset Stour.

There was a great deal of flood water on some of the meadows, no doubt due to the recent high tides and strong overnight winds, but this made it all rather wonderful for the shoot: that, plus the never ending procession of great skies to work with. As there is so much going on before me - I even get a heron and egret to watch through binoculars, but too distant to do justice with my longest lens - I consider shooting a panoramic so I can capture more of the fleeting light and shade. In fact, I shoot two, but neither captured the feel of the scene before me, so I opt to use a single photograph (above).

                                                         ----------------------------------------

The water meadows at Wick (the name is derived from the Old English wic, meaning 'dairy farm'), are part of the Hengistbury Head Local Nature Reserve, and is designated a Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI). Since the area has not been improved in an agricultural aspect, it is regarded as ancient grassland. It is a location I have worked before, and will be returning over the coming months for some winter photography.


24-70mm f/2.8G AF-S Nikkor. 1/200 second at f/11. ISO 200. Polarising filter. Monopod


© 2012

Time...

Now that British Summer Time (daylight saving for the rest of the world - where it applies) has come to an end it is so much more convenient to get good light at a reasonable time of day. During the summer months I have to be out of bed in the middle of the night, or shooting well into the evening to get the best of the day, but at this time of year it is far more civilised.

It is a bright, crisp, autumn day, and I feel a bike ride is in order. I have somewhat neglected two wheels during the past few months in favour of walking, so I check the tide times for Poole harbour; note a late afternoon low tide, and wheel-out the mountain bike.

The tide is well on its way out when I arrive during mid afternoon, and a watery sun promises to deliver the goods, but I am not inspired for a location. I have a number of shots of red skies reflected in tide pools, but I am after something different this time. I eventually settle for the jetty of the East Dorset Sailing Club for a bit of variation; position myself accordingly, and wait for nature to do her stuff. Known as the Golden Hour by photographers, that last hour (or the first - it depends which way you look at it) of the day can often produce the most stunning light, but it is beginning to get cold where I am standing. Once the sun disappears from view the temperature drops noticeably, and since I had a number of shots in the can I pack up and head home, rather than wait to see if there is an afterglow. Time to dig out those thermals!


24-70mm f/2.8 AF-S Nikkor. 1/400 second at f/8. ISO 200. Monopod


© 2012

Milly moon...

It has been about a year since I first discussed techniques with my friend Nic about photographing the moon (Milly, as she calls it), and the pitfalls that inexperienced photographers fall into when attempting it for the first (and often subsequent) times. In the days of film; and especially with reversal (transparency) emulsions, the photographer had to make the decision to either keep cloud detail and sacrifice the lunar features, or expose for the bright disc in the sky and lose everything else. Of course, not all moon shots need cloud, but it does make for a more dramatic image if it is there. The digital age has made that choice redundant for the wise shooter.

I had not planned to shoot at all, today, but during late afternoon I had to nip out of the house for a short while on business (cat food, actually). It was on my way home that I first caught sight of the full moon through broken cloud, and was taken by the drama of it all. I knew it would produce good pictures if I was able to get home quickly enough, but feared it might well be all over by the time I was able to get home and set up. I quickened my step in anticipation. As it turned out, things looked even more promising once I had got back, so it was out with a tripod and big lens.

I started shooting with a teleconverter on the lens; the idea being to get the biggest image possible, but quickly realised that I was missing the effect of moonlight on the scudding clouds, and removed it. I was careful to make sure I kept the detail of the moon by adjusting the exposure until I no longer had the 'blinkies'* on the rear screen of my camera, and timed my exposures for when things looked interesting through the viewfinder.

Having produced RAW files, I was able to have total control over the final image, and brought up the far dimmer clouds using the editing software technique of 'dodging', since the information was there all along. It just needed finding.



300mm f/2.8 AF-S VR Nikkor. 1/60th second at f/4. ISO 200. Manual exposure. Mirror lock up and remote release. Tripod


*The 'blinkies' are seen as parts of an image highlight on the rear screen of a camera that blink after a photograph has been taken, indicating to the photographer that there is no information (pixels with detail) in those areas. Adjustments can then be made should it be deemed necessary.



© 2012

Game on...

British Summertime comes to an end in the early hours of tomorrow morning (2am), the clocks are put back an hour to herald the onset of winter, and the weather comes out in sympathy. It is noticeably colder, today, with temperatures dropping to 8ºC, but the sky is largely clear and it is still quite warm in the sunshine - especially when sheltered from the North westerly wind and by the sea.

Despite it being a crisp and bright day, there are few people taking advantage of it all along the seafront of Poole Bay; not even the surfers have put in an appearance. Not surprising, really, as the sea is a flat calm - but that doesn't usually stop them all. Today, it did.

I was hoping for a spectacular sunset, or something equally as interesting, to photograph at the end of the day, but since there was little in the way of clouds it was never going to happen. Instead, I while away the last of the light shooting the surf gently lapping against the beach from Boscombe Pier, as the tide began to ebb and autumn (in my book) begins proper.

Game on.


24-70mm f/2.8G AF-S Nikkor. 1/2000 second at f/8. - 0.33 EV compensation. ISO 320


© 2012