Breaking The Rules
“Ok we’ll go to Morrisons. I always overeat at Smokey’s and then I’m struggling for the rest of the day.” The first and most important decision of the day had been made, and none of us would be doing Mr Creosote impressions for the entire afternoon. And so we set course for the local supermarket cafe, to begin proceedings with what is rapidly becoming a tradition whenever the three of us convene. They’re a bit sparing with the condiments and tea bags in comparison to their colleagues in Newquay and Tavistock, but the bargain breakfast hit the spot and we were ready to go. After grazing on three full English protein bombs, Lee produced the latest addition to his silvery collection of vintage camera goodies for us to admire in the form of a one hundred and thirty-five millimetre lens that resembled a nineteenth century gentleman’s pocket telescope. It was very beautiful, and secured at a bargain price too. He has a knack for picking up these things for peanuts and eventually shifting them on for a few extra shillings. I wouldn't have a clue where to start, but that didn’t stop us gently teasing him about his inveterate eBay habit as he told us about a series of recent acquisitions, all of which had been fully declared to his wife, so he told us. Including purchase prices apparently.
The next decision was exactly where to go. Dave was driving, and he’s about as decisive as a cabinet minister in a constitutional crisis, so a decision needed to be made by somebody else before we got to the first junction. In the end we directed him onto the A30 towards Gwithian, before he reclaimed control and took the quiet route along the narrow back lanes to the coast. We strolled along the boardwalk and down onto the beach. The tide had not long turned and was due to be full around sunset, and the absence of the swell I was hoping for meant that plan A was abandoned for another day. None of us seemed particularly keen to get the cameras out just yet, and we agreed that in just two hours from now the light should start to get interesting. So we went to the opposite end of the Towans and parked at one of those scary private car parks near the Hayle Estuary. You know the ones - they have Big Brother cameras at the entrance and carry all sorts of threats about how much they’re going to fine you if you don’t download the app, register your payment method and vehicle details, and book your parking slot within about four seconds of arriving. I hate those car parks - b*stard car parks is what I call them. Especially when they’re full of craters that a convoy of Sherman tanks would disappear into, never mind a Volkswagen Polo carrying three middle aged togs. And do the owners bother to plough the profits into some sanitary facilities for those three gentlemen in their fifties who would all soon be in need after two cups of thin watery tea? You know the answer to that.
The b*stard car park is one of Lee’s favourite spots for training the long lens on lone figures as they follow the curves of the estuary on their strolls over the sand towards Gwithian. Dave and I wandered down onto the beach to examine the ruts and folds on the sand that the last outgoing tide had left behind, but it was a messy scene we found and the cameras remained in the bags. I soon headed back up onto the dunes beside the b*stard car park, where I found Lee trying to isolate figures from the group of six or seven youths who were attempting to keep a kite in the air. I took a few snaps on the long lens - maybe one of them will make it into this feed eventually, but I was confident that the best part of the day was still to come once our time was up here and we moved back a couple of miles to the east.
Finally we ended up here at the Towans, where you can park for free during the winter months, thanks to a local council who do occasionally get things right. I knew this was going to be the shot of the day for me at the moment I took it. Taken just a few minutes after arriving, it broke the rules that people so often put up as barriers to creative abandonment. Mostly, the one about shooting into the sun and the inevitable glare. But I really don’t care. This is what it looks like on a day like this. To the human eye, highlights are blown to smithereens, and glare is a fact of life. Sometimes I just love to embrace it. Especially when there are waving grasses in the foreground and birds flying towards that big bright ball in the sky. If you’ve stood on a coastal cliff top in winter when the wind is gusting and the sun is dipping in and out of clouds, you’ll know how it feels. This picture is how it makes me feel - even if there are an odd number of birds and they happen to be more or less on the third. Well ok then, maybe some of the so called rules do always seem to work quite well.
Breaking The Rules
“Ok we’ll go to Morrisons. I always overeat at Smokey’s and then I’m struggling for the rest of the day.” The first and most important decision of the day had been made, and none of us would be doing Mr Creosote impressions for the entire afternoon. And so we set course for the local supermarket cafe, to begin proceedings with what is rapidly becoming a tradition whenever the three of us convene. They’re a bit sparing with the condiments and tea bags in comparison to their colleagues in Newquay and Tavistock, but the bargain breakfast hit the spot and we were ready to go. After grazing on three full English protein bombs, Lee produced the latest addition to his silvery collection of vintage camera goodies for us to admire in the form of a one hundred and thirty-five millimetre lens that resembled a nineteenth century gentleman’s pocket telescope. It was very beautiful, and secured at a bargain price too. He has a knack for picking up these things for peanuts and eventually shifting them on for a few extra shillings. I wouldn't have a clue where to start, but that didn’t stop us gently teasing him about his inveterate eBay habit as he told us about a series of recent acquisitions, all of which had been fully declared to his wife, so he told us. Including purchase prices apparently.
The next decision was exactly where to go. Dave was driving, and he’s about as decisive as a cabinet minister in a constitutional crisis, so a decision needed to be made by somebody else before we got to the first junction. In the end we directed him onto the A30 towards Gwithian, before he reclaimed control and took the quiet route along the narrow back lanes to the coast. We strolled along the boardwalk and down onto the beach. The tide had not long turned and was due to be full around sunset, and the absence of the swell I was hoping for meant that plan A was abandoned for another day. None of us seemed particularly keen to get the cameras out just yet, and we agreed that in just two hours from now the light should start to get interesting. So we went to the opposite end of the Towans and parked at one of those scary private car parks near the Hayle Estuary. You know the ones - they have Big Brother cameras at the entrance and carry all sorts of threats about how much they’re going to fine you if you don’t download the app, register your payment method and vehicle details, and book your parking slot within about four seconds of arriving. I hate those car parks - b*stard car parks is what I call them. Especially when they’re full of craters that a convoy of Sherman tanks would disappear into, never mind a Volkswagen Polo carrying three middle aged togs. And do the owners bother to plough the profits into some sanitary facilities for those three gentlemen in their fifties who would all soon be in need after two cups of thin watery tea? You know the answer to that.
The b*stard car park is one of Lee’s favourite spots for training the long lens on lone figures as they follow the curves of the estuary on their strolls over the sand towards Gwithian. Dave and I wandered down onto the beach to examine the ruts and folds on the sand that the last outgoing tide had left behind, but it was a messy scene we found and the cameras remained in the bags. I soon headed back up onto the dunes beside the b*stard car park, where I found Lee trying to isolate figures from the group of six or seven youths who were attempting to keep a kite in the air. I took a few snaps on the long lens - maybe one of them will make it into this feed eventually, but I was confident that the best part of the day was still to come once our time was up here and we moved back a couple of miles to the east.
Finally we ended up here at the Towans, where you can park for free during the winter months, thanks to a local council who do occasionally get things right. I knew this was going to be the shot of the day for me at the moment I took it. Taken just a few minutes after arriving, it broke the rules that people so often put up as barriers to creative abandonment. Mostly, the one about shooting into the sun and the inevitable glare. But I really don’t care. This is what it looks like on a day like this. To the human eye, highlights are blown to smithereens, and glare is a fact of life. Sometimes I just love to embrace it. Especially when there are waving grasses in the foreground and birds flying towards that big bright ball in the sky. If you’ve stood on a coastal cliff top in winter when the wind is gusting and the sun is dipping in and out of clouds, you’ll know how it feels. This picture is how it makes me feel - even if there are an odd number of birds and they happen to be more or less on the third. Well ok then, maybe some of the so called rules do always seem to work quite well.