Nearly, but not this time

I was out well before dawn yesterday, and in spite of walking some 6 miles along the coastline in the hope of good photographic light, the winter solstice slipped by under a blanket of thick cloud. 

Not so today. In fact I might have missed everything having dared take notice of what the Met Office had to offer the night before. But that tried and trusted method of look-out-of-the-window weather forecast as dawn approached paid dividends. It so often does. 

There's a fairly stiff easterly breeze blowing when I reach the beach, and the sea and sky are showing a good deal of promise. The pre-dawn images I shot were the best of the session, as with this one taken five minutes before sunrise.

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Morning walk

Today's weather forecast told of heavily overcast skies, but an expeditious break in the thick cloud during a morning walk produced enough light to make things interesting. A falling tide over a beach reshaped by a recent storm produced ever-changing patterns, and I took photographs until the light had gone.

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Shapes of things

                                                      A weather front moves slowly east along the Dorset coast.

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Storm Barra (blowy; not many fish around)

Storm Barra - the latest of who knows how many that will hit the country this coming winter - has by and large skimmed the south coast of the UK. Such atmospheric turbulence will often produce dramatic images if the cloud breaks, and having kept a close eye on the Met Office satellite images all morning I decide a visit to a local beach during mid afternoon might prove fruitful.

Annoyingly, I'm unavoidably delayed by half an hour in getting to where I intend to shoot, but that turned out to be an advantage in the end as I'm only getting the tail-end of the storm. Even so, there's a strong sea running up the beach when I arrive, but the wind has dropped noticeably. Crucially, it's not raining, and that means I'm able to keep the front element of the lens dry.

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Winter light

It's the first day of winter on the meteorological calendar, and I'm out well before dawn in the hope of photographing the sunrise. The intention was to shoot from a high viewpoint, featuring a local pier as foreground interest with the approaching dawn lighting the background. 

That idea was soon dashed as it began to rain as I set up; always an issue as water droplets hitting the front element of the lens can ruin an image. To add to the dilemma, the moment of sunrise happened behind thick cloud, which added no colour at all to the sky.

It wasn't until half an hour later, and once I had moved down to sea level, that the clouds parted and the sky became spectacular.

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All mine

Storm someone-or-other blows in and out over the weekend, and the energy left behind in the atmosphere after such events very often makes for dramatic skies. The weather forecast for late afternoon looks good, but I'm somewhat surprised upon my arrival that in spite of the great light the local beaches are devoid of photographers.

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Going longer

 

One sure-fire way to get any photographer to take more pictures is to buy a new piece of equipment; in this case a new lens. When out shooting land or seascapes I only carry two: an ultra-wide and a standard zoom, but have frequently felt I needed a bit more focal length than the latter offered. As a result I've retired my 24-70mm f/2.8 Nikkor and replaced it with a 24-105mm f/4 Sigma Art lens.

An afternoon stroll along the local seafront with the new acquisition proves fruitful, as with this image of a passing shower lit by the setting sun.

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Serendipity

It's a 3¾ mile walk along the top of Nine Barrow Down, from Ulwell to Corfe Castle, and yesterday's ramble was so-so photographically; not just because the sky was virtually cloudless, but I also managed to mislay the camera's memory card once I'd got home.

Temperatures have dropped considerably in the past few days and early morning frosts are back. Standard practice when entering a warm environment with cold camera equipment is to allow the bag to reach ambient temperature before opening. This prevents condensation forming on cold surfaces and potentially causing (costly) issues at a later date. To work around this, I remove the memory card before entering the house. That way I can upload files quickly and set about the editing process.

However, it seems that in my rush to get started I put the card down somewhere and then promptly forgot where it was. It can only be in one of two rooms, but just where it has disappeared to remains (at the time of writing) a mystery.

So today I decide to do a re-shoot, and retrace my steps at the same time of day, along the same route... and I'm glad I did. There's a good deal of cloud about this time around, and when the sun breaks through the broken light totally transforms an already breathtaking landscape. The cows are simply a bonus.

Image: From atop Nine Barrow Down, looking towards Corfe Castle.

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The obelisk

The weather is still unseasonably mild, and pinning my hopes on the forecast being correct (it was), I pack a camera and two lenses and head for the hills on the Isle of Purbeck, Dorset. 

It's a fairly steep climb from Deans Hill bus stop to the obelisk on top of Ballard Down, but that's my starting point for a four mile coastal walk, from thereon downhill all the way to Old Harry Rocks and finally Studland beach.

There is a bit of cloud to give the sky some interest once I'm up there, and I stop to take a number of photographs before it threatens to disappear altogether leaving nothing but blue. The original colour images didn't work as I'd intended, but converting the files to mono made all the difference.

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15 minute day

Arriving at the waters edge before dawn I knew I wasn't going to get much in the way of good light. The weather forecast warned of thick cloud from dawn to dusk, but the thin strip of clear sky near the horizon showed a bit of promise.

Once the sun appeared it was then just a case of timing shots to get pleasing wave forms on the beach to complete the compositions. 15 minutes later the sun had climbed above the cloud bank and the session was over.

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Pressing moments

The day started with the idea of a bus ride along the coast followed by a walk home. The weather forecast was for overcast skies all day, so I packed two lenses in the bag that I thought might be of some use: a 50mm f/1.8 and a 10.5mm fisheye - the latter just in case I needed to inject a bit of energy into whatever piqued my interest.

As I neared my intended destination I decided to sit the ride out for as far as the bus went, and ended up in Swanage - a small seaside town on the Dorset coast. At this time of year the place is very quiet, and I spend an hour or some roaming the streets photographing anything I like the look of. It's during this relaxed state of affairs that I notice the break in the cloud cover, moving slowly from north to south.

No mention of this in the forecast. None. I'm at a loss lens wise; I'm either too long (50mm), or too wide (the fisheye) to record the scene, and I'm faced with two options. I can either shoot a panoramic, which will involve an unfeasibly large number of shots to attempt to stitch together in post, or I can press the fisheye into use as a normal wide-angle lens. I choose the latter.

I had to keep the camera level to prevent the horizon curving alarmingly, and crop out a lot of the foreground, but it worked.

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They're there if I look

It's dark, and there's persistent drizzle as I leave the house at 6:20am and head for the beach. I'm almost 100% certain that there will be no early light to photograph, but the recent early morning sessions have got me motivated to be out and I'm going to shoot, come what may.

There's no hint of colour in the sky as sunrise comes and goes, so I resort to one or two tried-and-trusted spots to see if I can come up with a different perspective; there's always something if I look hard enough.

The light being what it is I make the decision to convert any images I get to monochrome, and it's dear old weather-beaten Groyne #18 that saves the day.

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Ripples in the sand

For most of the day I've been keeping a watchful eye on the weather system developing in the Western Approaches. What I'm seeing - via the Met Office satellite images - looks favourable, and experience leads me to believe I'm in with a good chance of something spectacular at sunset.

In the event there was little to write home about (let alone photograph), but what I did get made the ripples in the sand at low tide look more compelling.

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Plan B

 

The original plan was for a walk in the woods on a perfect autumn afternoon, but the sky looked so good en route that Nic and I agreed that it would be a shame to waste it. A swift detour took us to the top of Wye Downs, but it's a big gamble when conditions are already perfect on the way to a chosen location. This time we were lucky.

There's no wind, even at that height, and I was able to shoot numerous frames before the clouds eventually drifted away to the left and the effect on the landscape was lost.

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Starting to swing

Now that the sun is beginning to rise out to sea I'm starting to get into the swing of things - photographically speaking - for the season. Foliage on trees has yet to turn on its autumn display, so I'm concentrating my efforts on the local beaches, in the hope of good light.

Today's weather forecast doesn't appear to offer anything too exciting, but I decide to go anyway. Hedging my bets, I decide to lug a tripod with me, giving me the option of shooting with long exposures should the need arise.

It did. For the first half hour or so I thought I'd drawn a blank, but a hint of pink on the horizon around 6 minutes before sunrise made the trip worthwhile. The 3 second exposure did the rest.

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Shower dodging

Nobody mentioned rain this morning on any weather forecast I saw. Nobody. As a result I'm getting an unexpected soaking on my way to the beach. The rain stops long enough after my arrival to encourage me to start to taking photographs, but it's not long before I'm forced to retreat as an intense shower rolls in from the West.

I'm the only person on the seafront (and no wonder), but once the cloud breaks I'm presented with dramatic skies, lit by the sun that is still below the horizon.

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Shut up 'n post photographs

There have been many occasions when I've struggled to write text to accompany the images I use on this blog, and sometimes it puts a stop to making posts altogether if I can't come up with something interesting.

It wouldn't be for the first time that Nic has told me not to bother with writing and simply post a picture. So, taking Nic's advice, and to paraphrase Frank Zappa: I'll shut up and post photographs (at least for the time being).

Image: Boscombe beach - 07:35 today.

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Right place, right time

                                                               The chance passing of a local pier at low tide.

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Getting started

                                                The first early start of the season: Boscombe Beach, Dorset

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The Bournemouth Air Festival, Days 1-4

Having not being run last year due to the Covid-19 pandemic, this year's Air Festival on the south coast of England was something to look forward to. I have taken few photographs during the summer, and it was time for my telephoto lens to get some use.

As always, such events are at the mercy of the weather, but I didn't think for one moment that the shot above would turn out to be the only useable image I liked the look of for the entire weekend. Taken on day one, it was a casual approach - both in time spent and the chosen spot to work from - thinking that since the weather forecast for the remaining three days was favourable I would get better images then.

How wrong can you be? Although a high pressure system sat on top of the UK for the duration, producing fine, settled conditions, the resulting atmospheric haze and humidity reduced visibility to under 2 miles. Any photography was meaningless as displays disappeared into the murk, and in some cases visibility made worse by their own smoke trails.

Photo- The Red Arrows

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