Surfing Kernowfornia
Kernofornia. That's what they call it down here. If that's leaving you confused, you may need to know that Kernow is the name of my home county in its own ancient Celtic language. Not my invention, but I've rather taken to it, and in recent weeks we've been enjoying the sort of conditions that Cornwall may have a reputation for, with blue skies and dare I say it, hot sunny afternoons, although in truth are not really justified as people who live here will testify. I've often maintained that we have two seasons here - cold drizzle and warm drizzle. In fact the locals call it "mizzle," a contraction of mist and.........well you get it.
Of course until very recently the calm sunny days have been enjoyed from the safety of the garden, where on working days I've spent my morning coffee breaks, my lunch hours and the early evenings sprawled in a chair with a cup of tea and a good book. But now, with care we can head out into the big wide world once more. I wouldn't say we're like sugar hungry kids who've been released into a sweet shop with limitless cash, but we have headed beyond the end of the garden, or "The Wall" in Game of Thrones parlance on a handful of occasions since our nation's leaders told us we were allowed to again.
Last Wednesday found us on the beach at Gwithian for the second time in three days, with our supper in tupperware containers, and a sneaky draught of ale in my Chilly's bottle. After enjoying a delicious helping of pasta, accompanied by what I was later astonished to hear were vegetarian sausages, I looked at the camera bag and wondered what to do with it. And so I headed towards the lighthouse that I've photographed so many times before. I stood, stared, pointed the camera at it and scratched my head in confusion. Nothing was connecting the foreground to the back of the shot and all of the lines were leading the eye right out to sea and away from the subject. If I were alone I'd have advanced closer to it in search of a composition, but my partner was on one of her middle distance beach hikes somewhere to the west and she was driving. So I turned around and looked back over the beach where I'd sat on the dunes filling myself with pasta. And vegetarian sausages. And I saw lines in the wet sand which gave me an idea. I just needed a surfer or two with a nice white board to walk in the right direction.
I'm trying not to get too carried away with these ICM style images, but they've been well received by friends and family, especially the small circle of them who've appeared in the images I've taken and are currently ordering prints of them for their kitchen walls. I have no idea who these two chaps are, but they were in the right place at the right time. I really should leave my camera at home and get in the sea as well. Roll on summer!
Surfing Kernowfornia
Kernofornia. That's what they call it down here. If that's leaving you confused, you may need to know that Kernow is the name of my home county in its own ancient Celtic language. Not my invention, but I've rather taken to it, and in recent weeks we've been enjoying the sort of conditions that Cornwall may have a reputation for, with blue skies and dare I say it, hot sunny afternoons, although in truth are not really justified as people who live here will testify. I've often maintained that we have two seasons here - cold drizzle and warm drizzle. In fact the locals call it "mizzle," a contraction of mist and.........well you get it.
Of course until very recently the calm sunny days have been enjoyed from the safety of the garden, where on working days I've spent my morning coffee breaks, my lunch hours and the early evenings sprawled in a chair with a cup of tea and a good book. But now, with care we can head out into the big wide world once more. I wouldn't say we're like sugar hungry kids who've been released into a sweet shop with limitless cash, but we have headed beyond the end of the garden, or "The Wall" in Game of Thrones parlance on a handful of occasions since our nation's leaders told us we were allowed to again.
Last Wednesday found us on the beach at Gwithian for the second time in three days, with our supper in tupperware containers, and a sneaky draught of ale in my Chilly's bottle. After enjoying a delicious helping of pasta, accompanied by what I was later astonished to hear were vegetarian sausages, I looked at the camera bag and wondered what to do with it. And so I headed towards the lighthouse that I've photographed so many times before. I stood, stared, pointed the camera at it and scratched my head in confusion. Nothing was connecting the foreground to the back of the shot and all of the lines were leading the eye right out to sea and away from the subject. If I were alone I'd have advanced closer to it in search of a composition, but my partner was on one of her middle distance beach hikes somewhere to the west and she was driving. So I turned around and looked back over the beach where I'd sat on the dunes filling myself with pasta. And vegetarian sausages. And I saw lines in the wet sand which gave me an idea. I just needed a surfer or two with a nice white board to walk in the right direction.
I'm trying not to get too carried away with these ICM style images, but they've been well received by friends and family, especially the small circle of them who've appeared in the images I've taken and are currently ordering prints of them for their kitchen walls. I have no idea who these two chaps are, but they were in the right place at the right time. I really should leave my camera at home and get in the sea as well. Roll on summer!