The Girl in the Wellies
Wheal Coates was busier than I’d have liked it to be. It is the start of half term I suppose, and on the previous day I’d already witnessed the evidence of a massed cavalcade of fun seekers heading along the A30 towards our far flung corner of the country as I’d tried to make my own short journey east towards a wet and windy Ladock Wood. The approach to Wheal Coates entails a stretch of single lane tarmac where it’s normal to have to pull in for the odd passing car and exchange of the quintessentially British “thank you” waves as you make your way along it. Even in summer I generally only have to stop a couple of times. Yesterday no less than ten cars decided to travel in the opposite direction as I tried to make progress along it. I even had to reverse twice. One of the beneficiaries of my generosity didn’t even bother to wave. Quietly unimpressed I continued.
When I arrived in the small car park it seemed even more full than at any time I saw it in July or August. A father chided his son for unidentifiable reasons as they approached the car right next to where I had parked. I decided to stay put until their squabble was done and they were on the way to wherever they were going as the latest of the bands of rains that had been passing throughout the day came straight over us. At least the light looked promising. Finally deciding it was safe to leave the car without involuntarily joining anyone else’s domestic troubles I headed down the main path, taking a right hand turn to a place where I fancied I’d find some space to myself.
Unfortunately, the spot I settled on for my composition guaranteed that the isolation I always look for wasn’t going to happen. Wheal Coates always attracts both locals and visitors along its web of clifftop paths, and I’d set my tripod up next to the South West Coast Path itself. I’d arrived with the intention of looking for some strong foreground interest to work with my wide angle lens, but was immediately drawn to the spray drifting over huge rocks in the sea a few miles along the coast, which found me reaching for the telephoto instead. Within moments the light changed for the better and the girl in the wellies, accompanied by an older companion with a dog yards behind her strolled into the scene. As the opportunity to catch a moment thudded somewhere between my ears it struck me that I only wanted a single figure in the foreground, and with the camera off the tripod I had to go for a quick, handheld composition before the rest of the party joined her. I soon forgot the shot as the light intensified with a dark bluish cloud complementing the sunlit orange tones in the foreground heather – that almost sounds as if I know what I’m on about.
The stream of humans continued, a young chap engaging me on the subject of art and photography before racing off to find his easel so he could paint St Agnes Beacon. Later I was joined by another local photographer, who asked if he could set up next to me. I learned to my surprise that he was a dairy farmer with a herd of 400 cows and lived next to Ladock Wood, the scene of my previous photo taken a day earlier. I was amazed that he found time for any hobbies at all. I think he was too. Sadly for him he’d missed the best of the light, the sun sinking behind a bank of ominous slate grey cumulus and with no apparent intention of reappearing for the rest of the evening.
And so I returned home to review my images, deciding that this one with the sea spray spreading over the cliffs was the one to share with you. The trouble was that it wasn’t level – I often struggle with horizons – and when I tried to straighten it the girl in the wellies ended up right at the edge of the frame. So I had to move her. Not bodily you understand – we hadn’t been properly introduced and there’s a pandemic on as you’re probably aware. I’d never tried this before and in truth my Photoshop skills are more or less non-existent. But somehow I blundered my way through yet another hack and lifted her up and moved her five yards along the path. I’d rather not have done this, but very occasionally you just have to. It doesn’t seem to be that much of an untruth when some people routinely use sky replacement tools in their final images – although I should add there’s nothing wrong with that if it’s what works for you. It's all about choice - it's just that I won't be doing it because to me, photos are about moments, memories and feelings.
Content that she was now more comfortably positioned I looked closer into the image and saw people everywhere. Usually I prefer to cull unwanted participants in my images, but as I was about to hit the content aware fill command on the first group I hesitated. They were part of the story after all, I reasoned. And so they’ve stayed just where I found them - enjoying a Sunday stroll on a wind blown Cornish clifftop.
The Girl in the Wellies
Wheal Coates was busier than I’d have liked it to be. It is the start of half term I suppose, and on the previous day I’d already witnessed the evidence of a massed cavalcade of fun seekers heading along the A30 towards our far flung corner of the country as I’d tried to make my own short journey east towards a wet and windy Ladock Wood. The approach to Wheal Coates entails a stretch of single lane tarmac where it’s normal to have to pull in for the odd passing car and exchange of the quintessentially British “thank you” waves as you make your way along it. Even in summer I generally only have to stop a couple of times. Yesterday no less than ten cars decided to travel in the opposite direction as I tried to make progress along it. I even had to reverse twice. One of the beneficiaries of my generosity didn’t even bother to wave. Quietly unimpressed I continued.
When I arrived in the small car park it seemed even more full than at any time I saw it in July or August. A father chided his son for unidentifiable reasons as they approached the car right next to where I had parked. I decided to stay put until their squabble was done and they were on the way to wherever they were going as the latest of the bands of rains that had been passing throughout the day came straight over us. At least the light looked promising. Finally deciding it was safe to leave the car without involuntarily joining anyone else’s domestic troubles I headed down the main path, taking a right hand turn to a place where I fancied I’d find some space to myself.
Unfortunately, the spot I settled on for my composition guaranteed that the isolation I always look for wasn’t going to happen. Wheal Coates always attracts both locals and visitors along its web of clifftop paths, and I’d set my tripod up next to the South West Coast Path itself. I’d arrived with the intention of looking for some strong foreground interest to work with my wide angle lens, but was immediately drawn to the spray drifting over huge rocks in the sea a few miles along the coast, which found me reaching for the telephoto instead. Within moments the light changed for the better and the girl in the wellies, accompanied by an older companion with a dog yards behind her strolled into the scene. As the opportunity to catch a moment thudded somewhere between my ears it struck me that I only wanted a single figure in the foreground, and with the camera off the tripod I had to go for a quick, handheld composition before the rest of the party joined her. I soon forgot the shot as the light intensified with a dark bluish cloud complementing the sunlit orange tones in the foreground heather – that almost sounds as if I know what I’m on about.
The stream of humans continued, a young chap engaging me on the subject of art and photography before racing off to find his easel so he could paint St Agnes Beacon. Later I was joined by another local photographer, who asked if he could set up next to me. I learned to my surprise that he was a dairy farmer with a herd of 400 cows and lived next to Ladock Wood, the scene of my previous photo taken a day earlier. I was amazed that he found time for any hobbies at all. I think he was too. Sadly for him he’d missed the best of the light, the sun sinking behind a bank of ominous slate grey cumulus and with no apparent intention of reappearing for the rest of the evening.
And so I returned home to review my images, deciding that this one with the sea spray spreading over the cliffs was the one to share with you. The trouble was that it wasn’t level – I often struggle with horizons – and when I tried to straighten it the girl in the wellies ended up right at the edge of the frame. So I had to move her. Not bodily you understand – we hadn’t been properly introduced and there’s a pandemic on as you’re probably aware. I’d never tried this before and in truth my Photoshop skills are more or less non-existent. But somehow I blundered my way through yet another hack and lifted her up and moved her five yards along the path. I’d rather not have done this, but very occasionally you just have to. It doesn’t seem to be that much of an untruth when some people routinely use sky replacement tools in their final images – although I should add there’s nothing wrong with that if it’s what works for you. It's all about choice - it's just that I won't be doing it because to me, photos are about moments, memories and feelings.
Content that she was now more comfortably positioned I looked closer into the image and saw people everywhere. Usually I prefer to cull unwanted participants in my images, but as I was about to hit the content aware fill command on the first group I hesitated. They were part of the story after all, I reasoned. And so they’ve stayed just where I found them - enjoying a Sunday stroll on a wind blown Cornish clifftop.