The Chocolate River
Augustus Gloop would have loved this. Remember him falling into the chocolate river and being escorted off the premises in ignominy by a team of Oompa Loompas? Well at least he would have loved it here if he were a real person rather than a fictional visitor to Willy Wonka’s magical emporium somewhere on the other side of Roald Dahl’s imagination. In fact so would a lot of people. I’d have been in there myself, filling my wellies with the stuff and taking it home for elevenses. There’d be no chance of getting a shot at all - at least not one that wasn’t filled with gourmands groaning over their excessive compulsions, lying on their backs with their feet waving in the air, distended bellies shifting uncomfortably. Probably a good job it’s not chocolate then - just a mixture of freezing water and sand, flowing across the beach at low tide in bumps and ridges that catch the eye and the imagination in bucketfuls. And instead of filling my boots with chocolate, I was crouching here in them, surrounded by the racing water, with plenty more of it falling from the heavens. But I like a challenge, and besides which, I was in good company today. And I’d fortified myself with a flaky steak pasty from my local Cornish Oven. They didn’t have chocolate flavour that day.
Instead of young Master Gloop, Charlie Bucket and co, I was here with Lloyd on his first togging adventure at Holywell Bay. And to add some further wisdom to the proceedings, we were joined by a certain Mr Pedlar. You know him don’t you? A man who embodies the purity of the Cornish spirit - although to my knowledge he hadn’t brought any Spingo along with him (you’ll have to look that up if you’re none the wiser - just hold onto your hats and your breeches if you give it a try). It was one of those days where you just have to embrace what the elements are throwing at you, grin cheerfully and put your shoulder to the wind. And wear waterproofs of course - lots of them. By now I was clad from head to foot in things to keep me dry, planting my tripod in the ever shifting riverbed on the sand. Even the flow of the water changes with every moment on afternoons like this here. Sometimes it’s flat and benign, spreading artfully across this wonderful canvas in gentle ripples, and then suddenly a series of ridges rise up like a serpent breaking the surface, moving along its course in one direction or the other and beguiling the senses.
I’d decided to have another try with the crop body and the recently acquired budget lens - a combination that had mysteriously broken down on its first ever outing when I was last here and an error code appeared on the screen and refused to go away. Since then it had somehow cured itself, and the screen gave me no further cause for complaint - I was keen to persist, as unlike the display on my full frame camera, this one flips out and does the hula, allowing me to see what it is I’m taking a picture of without kneeling down in five inches of icy water and craning my neck over to one side. Throw on your choice of filter, tap the screen where you want to focus, wait two seconds and then let nature take care of the rest. Oh yes, and the editing suite. And while that wide angle lens doesn’t quite deliver the sharpness of the one I mount on the other camera, it’s good enough. Good enough to allow me to see a pinnacle on the rocks that I’d never spotted before. I don’t visit this location quite as often as I might, but I’m here often enough, and always finding something new. Add to this the fact that the river seems to plot a different course across the sand at low tide with every visit, and it’s never dull.
Once I’d sifted through the images and lost the ones where the rain spots rendered them unusable, I was still left with enough material to deliver a record of the chocolate river. And with a suitable gap created by white clouds that separated Carter’s Rocks from the rest of the scene, it was just a case of picking the one with the most interesting textures in the foreground. One that featured the serpent.
I fancy some chocolate now. Nothing too ostentatious, just a few thousand gallons of it pouring past me so I can dip in a flagon now and again and do a bit of Glooping of my own. Without overdoing it of course. Wouldn’t want to come to a sticky end like Augustus did. Pun probably intended…………
The Chocolate River
Augustus Gloop would have loved this. Remember him falling into the chocolate river and being escorted off the premises in ignominy by a team of Oompa Loompas? Well at least he would have loved it here if he were a real person rather than a fictional visitor to Willy Wonka’s magical emporium somewhere on the other side of Roald Dahl’s imagination. In fact so would a lot of people. I’d have been in there myself, filling my wellies with the stuff and taking it home for elevenses. There’d be no chance of getting a shot at all - at least not one that wasn’t filled with gourmands groaning over their excessive compulsions, lying on their backs with their feet waving in the air, distended bellies shifting uncomfortably. Probably a good job it’s not chocolate then - just a mixture of freezing water and sand, flowing across the beach at low tide in bumps and ridges that catch the eye and the imagination in bucketfuls. And instead of filling my boots with chocolate, I was crouching here in them, surrounded by the racing water, with plenty more of it falling from the heavens. But I like a challenge, and besides which, I was in good company today. And I’d fortified myself with a flaky steak pasty from my local Cornish Oven. They didn’t have chocolate flavour that day.
Instead of young Master Gloop, Charlie Bucket and co, I was here with Lloyd on his first togging adventure at Holywell Bay. And to add some further wisdom to the proceedings, we were joined by a certain Mr Pedlar. You know him don’t you? A man who embodies the purity of the Cornish spirit - although to my knowledge he hadn’t brought any Spingo along with him (you’ll have to look that up if you’re none the wiser - just hold onto your hats and your breeches if you give it a try). It was one of those days where you just have to embrace what the elements are throwing at you, grin cheerfully and put your shoulder to the wind. And wear waterproofs of course - lots of them. By now I was clad from head to foot in things to keep me dry, planting my tripod in the ever shifting riverbed on the sand. Even the flow of the water changes with every moment on afternoons like this here. Sometimes it’s flat and benign, spreading artfully across this wonderful canvas in gentle ripples, and then suddenly a series of ridges rise up like a serpent breaking the surface, moving along its course in one direction or the other and beguiling the senses.
I’d decided to have another try with the crop body and the recently acquired budget lens - a combination that had mysteriously broken down on its first ever outing when I was last here and an error code appeared on the screen and refused to go away. Since then it had somehow cured itself, and the screen gave me no further cause for complaint - I was keen to persist, as unlike the display on my full frame camera, this one flips out and does the hula, allowing me to see what it is I’m taking a picture of without kneeling down in five inches of icy water and craning my neck over to one side. Throw on your choice of filter, tap the screen where you want to focus, wait two seconds and then let nature take care of the rest. Oh yes, and the editing suite. And while that wide angle lens doesn’t quite deliver the sharpness of the one I mount on the other camera, it’s good enough. Good enough to allow me to see a pinnacle on the rocks that I’d never spotted before. I don’t visit this location quite as often as I might, but I’m here often enough, and always finding something new. Add to this the fact that the river seems to plot a different course across the sand at low tide with every visit, and it’s never dull.
Once I’d sifted through the images and lost the ones where the rain spots rendered them unusable, I was still left with enough material to deliver a record of the chocolate river. And with a suitable gap created by white clouds that separated Carter’s Rocks from the rest of the scene, it was just a case of picking the one with the most interesting textures in the foreground. One that featured the serpent.
I fancy some chocolate now. Nothing too ostentatious, just a few thousand gallons of it pouring past me so I can dip in a flagon now and again and do a bit of Glooping of my own. Without overdoing it of course. Wouldn’t want to come to a sticky end like Augustus did. Pun probably intended…………