A Moment of Spring
I must have changed my mind at least four times on the subject of where I was heading for once the van had finally decided to start. For a while I wasn’t going anywhere at all, because while she turned over, the ignition wouldn’t do its thing and even though a new bonnet release cable had been installed in recent times, it wasn’t working properly. One final desperate yank and I managed to get to the battery and get her started at last. Usually, even though she drinks at roughly twice the rate of my car, I try to take the van for a run at least once during the week, but this was her first outing in a fortnight and she wasn’t happy with me. I resolved to do a longer run soon and put a bit more charge in that battery. See you on Dartmoor!
Now that I was underway, where was I going? I’d been thinking about Land’s End or Botallack - I’ve not been that way since before Christmas, and there was also Gurnard’s Head, a location that might just work at this time of year although I’ve never photographed it before. In my mind I dithered between the two. But then I decided to go to the usual spot. Just three weeks left of free parking here before the local council starts the usual exorbitant summer charging regime in time for Easter. Between November and March, we come here almost every week, but after that it’s back to the National Trust car park on the opposite side, near the lighthouse. Not that it's an enormous hardship of course. But there are some shots I keep meaning to take from over here by the Towans in summer that never quite seem to happen.
It was a tolerably warm day with more than a hint of spring in the air, but the forecast made it clear that temperatures would drop like a stone tomorrow and stay firmly in single figures for the rest of the week as a bank of high pressure arrived from the east. Clear but cold, as it still is almost a week later while I’m writing this. And for once, it seemed I’d timed the visit well. High tide just before three would mean that some of the small clusters of rocks on the long stretch of sand would begin to be revealed during the golden hour. Usually the beach here is covered in footprints, be they human, canine or avian, and getting a clean shot is a non-starter unless you want to spend the evening as a slave to your clone tool in post. But with a sky that promised much, this was an opportunity to photograph a pristine beach, washed to perfection by an outgoing tide. Isolate a rock or two, take a long exposure and capture this early moment of spring in all its glory. And the lovely thing about these rocks on the sand is that they’re often surrounded by small pools, a magnet for toddlers in summer, and for us togs during the rest of the year. And dogs at every passing opportunity, whatever the season.
So bearing that in mind I’d have to work fast. It’s a dog walker’s paradise here and there was no doubting that it was only a matter of time before the virgin sand was trashed by a passing hound or three. A couple walked towards me from the east and I hoped they’d have the decency to stay behind the camera without me having to ask. They did - a passing quip from the cheerful young man about there being nothing to see here. I joined in with the joke. “Yep, nothing doing here.” They moved on and left me to it. Fifteen minutes later, two ladies approached from the same direction in the company of a bouncing spaniel and I knew that time was about to be called on this particular shot. Sure enough the dog wandered happily across the foreground, leaving a line of prints in the sand. You just have to learn to accept this sort of thing I’m afraid. The owner took one look at me with my camera mounted on the tripod and said, “You look as if you know what you’re doing. I’ll have that one myself!” She whipped out her phone and took the shot. “We’re so lucky aren’t we?” she went on. I agreed, wondering whether to feel flattered or violated that she’d so openly plagiarised my shot. She’s probably got ten thousand Instagram hits by now. Sometimes I have to remind myself how fortunate we are to have this place on our doorsteps and come and go as we please.
Although the dog had done the damage, and it would surely not be long before more came to charge about all over the scene leaving trails of canine joy behind them, I was happy enough. I’d got my shots and it was simply a case of advancing to the next rock that had been revealed by the retreating tide. There was still plenty of time, and the light seemed to be getting better and better. In fact it would turn into one of the more colourful sunsets I’ve photographed from this side of the beach as gold darkened to orange before the pinks of the blue hour settled in and glowed over the western headland. As long as the van started when it was time to go home, everything was going to be just fine.
A Moment of Spring
I must have changed my mind at least four times on the subject of where I was heading for once the van had finally decided to start. For a while I wasn’t going anywhere at all, because while she turned over, the ignition wouldn’t do its thing and even though a new bonnet release cable had been installed in recent times, it wasn’t working properly. One final desperate yank and I managed to get to the battery and get her started at last. Usually, even though she drinks at roughly twice the rate of my car, I try to take the van for a run at least once during the week, but this was her first outing in a fortnight and she wasn’t happy with me. I resolved to do a longer run soon and put a bit more charge in that battery. See you on Dartmoor!
Now that I was underway, where was I going? I’d been thinking about Land’s End or Botallack - I’ve not been that way since before Christmas, and there was also Gurnard’s Head, a location that might just work at this time of year although I’ve never photographed it before. In my mind I dithered between the two. But then I decided to go to the usual spot. Just three weeks left of free parking here before the local council starts the usual exorbitant summer charging regime in time for Easter. Between November and March, we come here almost every week, but after that it’s back to the National Trust car park on the opposite side, near the lighthouse. Not that it's an enormous hardship of course. But there are some shots I keep meaning to take from over here by the Towans in summer that never quite seem to happen.
It was a tolerably warm day with more than a hint of spring in the air, but the forecast made it clear that temperatures would drop like a stone tomorrow and stay firmly in single figures for the rest of the week as a bank of high pressure arrived from the east. Clear but cold, as it still is almost a week later while I’m writing this. And for once, it seemed I’d timed the visit well. High tide just before three would mean that some of the small clusters of rocks on the long stretch of sand would begin to be revealed during the golden hour. Usually the beach here is covered in footprints, be they human, canine or avian, and getting a clean shot is a non-starter unless you want to spend the evening as a slave to your clone tool in post. But with a sky that promised much, this was an opportunity to photograph a pristine beach, washed to perfection by an outgoing tide. Isolate a rock or two, take a long exposure and capture this early moment of spring in all its glory. And the lovely thing about these rocks on the sand is that they’re often surrounded by small pools, a magnet for toddlers in summer, and for us togs during the rest of the year. And dogs at every passing opportunity, whatever the season.
So bearing that in mind I’d have to work fast. It’s a dog walker’s paradise here and there was no doubting that it was only a matter of time before the virgin sand was trashed by a passing hound or three. A couple walked towards me from the east and I hoped they’d have the decency to stay behind the camera without me having to ask. They did - a passing quip from the cheerful young man about there being nothing to see here. I joined in with the joke. “Yep, nothing doing here.” They moved on and left me to it. Fifteen minutes later, two ladies approached from the same direction in the company of a bouncing spaniel and I knew that time was about to be called on this particular shot. Sure enough the dog wandered happily across the foreground, leaving a line of prints in the sand. You just have to learn to accept this sort of thing I’m afraid. The owner took one look at me with my camera mounted on the tripod and said, “You look as if you know what you’re doing. I’ll have that one myself!” She whipped out her phone and took the shot. “We’re so lucky aren’t we?” she went on. I agreed, wondering whether to feel flattered or violated that she’d so openly plagiarised my shot. She’s probably got ten thousand Instagram hits by now. Sometimes I have to remind myself how fortunate we are to have this place on our doorsteps and come and go as we please.
Although the dog had done the damage, and it would surely not be long before more came to charge about all over the scene leaving trails of canine joy behind them, I was happy enough. I’d got my shots and it was simply a case of advancing to the next rock that had been revealed by the retreating tide. There was still plenty of time, and the light seemed to be getting better and better. In fact it would turn into one of the more colourful sunsets I’ve photographed from this side of the beach as gold darkened to orange before the pinks of the blue hour settled in and glowed over the western headland. As long as the van started when it was time to go home, everything was going to be just fine.