Occasionally challenged

Occasionally, I like to set myself a photographic challenge; whether it be taking pictures only of the same type of subject, or perhaps shooting at the same time in a twenty-four hour period for a week. This time I've decided to shoot exclusively with a different lens each day.

I'm starting the ball rolling with a 10.5 mm fisheye lens.

© 2026

No competition

There's a notable absence of photographers on the beach before dawn this morning, in spite of promising weather conditions. My guess is that the majority are now nursing the after effects of the previous night's celebrations. Whatever the reason, they missed out as the pre-sunrise light was gorgeous.

The sun did put in an appearance not long after this shot was taken, but the light was no match for what preceded it. 

© 2026

Moving waves

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

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

© 2025

Avoiding the cliché

It's rare for one of my local piers to be open before 8 a.m. at any time of the year, but today its gates are wide open to the public well before sunrise. I most likely have departing fishermen to thank for that as the pier is regularly used for this purpose overnight.

The scene has been photographed ad nauseam by photographers, both local and visiting, but the early hour plus the warm glow of the lights on the wooden decking make for a composition of colour more than the subject itself.

© 2025

Eureka!

The Eureka Skyway bridge that spans the M20 at Junction 9 is something of a pet subject for me. Opened in 2011, the 140 metre long footbridge and cycleway at Ashford links two retail parks on either side on the motorway. Because of its striking design (at least for a motorway bridge), I tend to visualise it in black and white terms.

© 2025

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.

© 2025

Less is more

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

 © 2025

Waves on the beach?

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

© 2025 

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.

© 2025

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.

© 2025

The last leaf

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

© 2025

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. 

© 2025 

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.

© 2025

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.

© 2025

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.

© 2025

Coincidence, or just the truth?

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

© 2025

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.

© 2025

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.

© 2025 

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

© 2025

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.

© 2025