08:07 - 16:04

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

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

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Less is more

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

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Waves on the beach?

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

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Leaving a deposit

Storm conditions not only stir up the sky, they also stir up the ground, creating all manner of photogenic subjects. This shape on my local beach was formed by running water from recent heavy rains, depositing minerals and sediments to form the pattern.

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Pre-dawn light

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

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The last leaf

                         One leaf is still undecided, whilst next year's buds are showing some determination.

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Winter Wonderland it isn't

It's thirty-seven days to Christmas, and at this time of year my local town gardens are traditionally festooned with seasonal trappings designed to draw in visitors (and their wallets), and generally get people 'in the Yuletide mood'. Today, I decide to pay a visit for some twilight photography to capture the colour and excitement.

My arrival is greeted with neither. Okay, it's late Monday afternoon and the place is deserted; most people are still at work, but this year's light show is rather dismal by comparison with recent years. Clearly, council budget restraints are biting hard. Composition wise, the helter-skelter and Observation Wheel is the best I can come up with. 

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Out on the weekend

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

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Open for debate

 

I hadn't expected to photograph anything on this morning's walk. I even debated whether or not to take my camera bag, such was the weather forecast for early part of the day. At the last moment I opted to do so, and I'm glad I did.

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Not thinking

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

It also looks like rain.

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

But then again they're not thinking in monochrome.

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Coincidence, or just the truth?

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

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Seeing double

Good landscape photography is mostly all about waiting for something to happen. If at all. When it does, then there usually follows a frantic few moments as I try to make good images before the light changes and the mood is lost.

But there are times when it's quite possible to walk into a picture that's just waiting to be photographed, as with the gorgeous light and double rainbow that formed as I arrived on a local pier.

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On the prowl

During the winter months I'm often prowling the local seafront well before first light, in the hope that something out of the ordinary will materialise to produce a good photograph. Today looked promising as overnight rain gave way to the cold light of dawn, but there was no dazzling display of colours this time.

Cloud and wave patterns saved the day.

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No more BST (at least for now)

Night photography is something that I rarely do, which is a shame because the results can be rewarding. Now that the evenings are drawing in - BST* ended last weekend, taking advantage of darkness arriving at a civilised time is something I may well pursue over the winter months.

*British Summer Time

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The end of the beginning

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

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

Today I'm lucky.

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Blue

                                                                                   Blue wall, blue sign.

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A fleeting glimpse

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

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

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Beach reclamation

The summer holiday season has all but finished and the beaches are being reclaimed by the locals. Seafront cafés and entertainment installations are either being dismantled, or abandoned until next spring.

My season has only just begun.

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Work in progress

Comissioned street art is becoming commonplace, with murals sprouting up everywhere I look. This one, on the wall of a beach facility, is a work in progress.

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On the lookout

I'm rarely alone on a beach when there's the expectation of something worthwhile to photograph. And why would I be? We all want to get take good pictures (and preferrably something others don't get), but the two or three fellow photographers that are set up before I arrive are in a cosy clump; all with long lenses pointing in the same direction; all getting roughly the same shot; all waiting for the sunrise.

Instinctively, I move further along the seashore in search of something they will miss, and I start shooting  before the sun has risen.

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