It's Behind You!
Usually I like to take my time to compose a scene. You see I've listened carefully to the advice of my favourite landscape photographer on YouTube (Nigel Danson - he's a man who understands how to do this stuff) and absorb a location before I open the camera bag. I even do this in places I know well - places such as the space between Cape Cornwall and Botallack Mine here at the Edge of Eternity where the Atlantic Ocean stretches west for 2200 odd miles before arriving in Newfoundland. It takes a while to leave the journey to a location behind and settle in the surroundings. Often I will sit and watch for an hour or more, hoping to sight that pod of dolphins that so rarely appears, straining my eyes over the horizon for the distant Scilly Isles, and simply gazing at the sea below me. It's a place that brings the senses alive, whatever the time and whatever the weather. Eventually I'll fix on an idea and set the camera on the tripod, take a test shot and then wait for the light.
And so it was on this Saturday afternoon at the end of June. The lockdown restrictions in the UK had eased a little, and we were able to get out and about to the places we love so much. The summer holiday to Andalusia had been postponed because neither of us really fancied the idea of wearing a mask everywhere in 40 degree heat, but with places like this in our own back yard it didn't seem to matter. In fact despite what's going on around all of us this year, it's been a particularly enjoyable summer. It's only really dawned on me this year how lucky I am to be able to leave my home and stand here, at the edge of the British Isles in under an hour.
We sat at the edge of the granite outcrop high above the sea - they're known as castles here, which used to confuse me but I believe it's in reference to the hard igneous rock that makes the backbone of our county. We were facing north, directly away from the scene in the picture. You might wonder why on earth we'd be looking in any direction other than this, but the view towards the sunlit old engine houses of Botallack Mine, perched perilously over the sea is something in itself. The deed was done; I'd settled upon a composition and now it was a matter of timing and light. I sat and waited. It's a place where you can lose your sense of time and drift away on a tide of daydreams, but my reverie was interrupted by the voice of Ali, who was looking in the opposite direction. "Behind you!" she called across the stiff breeze, pointing enthusiastically towards the Cape Cornwall side of our vista. From her obvious excitement I was expecting to look round and see a pantomime villain advancing towards me.
And I turned to see this. A leaden sky with yellow sunlight filtering eastwards from over the sea. Of course light like this never lasts more than a minute or two and an almighty flurry of activity ensued very quickly as I hastened to a new position, the opening of the camera bag flapping about furiously in the wind. These are tricky places for the unwary and you have to take care unless you want a terminal bath before being dashed upon the rocks, and framing the shot wasn't as unhurried as I'd have liked it to have been. But in less than three minutes the ominous black and grey had been replaced by fluffy white on blue and it was as if this moment had never happened. The weather in this country, especially along its wild western edges is so delightfully capricious. It makes planning a family barbecue an ever risky affair, but for us photographers it's an absolute dream.
It's Saturday - the weather is forecast is looking decidedly fickle. I think I know what I'm going to do today.
It's Behind You!
Usually I like to take my time to compose a scene. You see I've listened carefully to the advice of my favourite landscape photographer on YouTube (Nigel Danson - he's a man who understands how to do this stuff) and absorb a location before I open the camera bag. I even do this in places I know well - places such as the space between Cape Cornwall and Botallack Mine here at the Edge of Eternity where the Atlantic Ocean stretches west for 2200 odd miles before arriving in Newfoundland. It takes a while to leave the journey to a location behind and settle in the surroundings. Often I will sit and watch for an hour or more, hoping to sight that pod of dolphins that so rarely appears, straining my eyes over the horizon for the distant Scilly Isles, and simply gazing at the sea below me. It's a place that brings the senses alive, whatever the time and whatever the weather. Eventually I'll fix on an idea and set the camera on the tripod, take a test shot and then wait for the light.
And so it was on this Saturday afternoon at the end of June. The lockdown restrictions in the UK had eased a little, and we were able to get out and about to the places we love so much. The summer holiday to Andalusia had been postponed because neither of us really fancied the idea of wearing a mask everywhere in 40 degree heat, but with places like this in our own back yard it didn't seem to matter. In fact despite what's going on around all of us this year, it's been a particularly enjoyable summer. It's only really dawned on me this year how lucky I am to be able to leave my home and stand here, at the edge of the British Isles in under an hour.
We sat at the edge of the granite outcrop high above the sea - they're known as castles here, which used to confuse me but I believe it's in reference to the hard igneous rock that makes the backbone of our county. We were facing north, directly away from the scene in the picture. You might wonder why on earth we'd be looking in any direction other than this, but the view towards the sunlit old engine houses of Botallack Mine, perched perilously over the sea is something in itself. The deed was done; I'd settled upon a composition and now it was a matter of timing and light. I sat and waited. It's a place where you can lose your sense of time and drift away on a tide of daydreams, but my reverie was interrupted by the voice of Ali, who was looking in the opposite direction. "Behind you!" she called across the stiff breeze, pointing enthusiastically towards the Cape Cornwall side of our vista. From her obvious excitement I was expecting to look round and see a pantomime villain advancing towards me.
And I turned to see this. A leaden sky with yellow sunlight filtering eastwards from over the sea. Of course light like this never lasts more than a minute or two and an almighty flurry of activity ensued very quickly as I hastened to a new position, the opening of the camera bag flapping about furiously in the wind. These are tricky places for the unwary and you have to take care unless you want a terminal bath before being dashed upon the rocks, and framing the shot wasn't as unhurried as I'd have liked it to have been. But in less than three minutes the ominous black and grey had been replaced by fluffy white on blue and it was as if this moment had never happened. The weather in this country, especially along its wild western edges is so delightfully capricious. It makes planning a family barbecue an ever risky affair, but for us photographers it's an absolute dream.
It's Saturday - the weather is forecast is looking decidedly fickle. I think I know what I'm going to do today.