Shark Fin
The temperature was dropping like a stone as I arrived at the headland. My first time here in over a year, and the previous two visits had been consigned to the dustbin due to endless rain driving straight into the front of the camera. Generally speaking, rain doesn't put me off going out, but when it's a constant battle to keep the lens free of unsightly blotches, that's usually an adventure too far. So really, it was the first time I’d been able to use the camera at Trevose since, well, since I bought this one actually - more than five years ago. The lighthouse and the lifeboat station on the other side of the headland had been its very first outing. Today, I was on the way home via an afternoon of babysitting my two year old grandson in nearby Wadebridge, and I was pooped. He’d pooped too for that matter, but that’s a story you don’t want to read about. We’ll move on shall we? We’ve formed a mutual admiration society, little Alfie and I. He seems particularly fond of his grandad for reasons that aren't entirely clear. I mean I played with him from minute one, fed him (he’s rather keen on what’s in the tuck box) and took him to the park, where he gazed at the older girls in a manner that’s going to get him into a spot of trouble when he’s older if he doesn’t learn a bit of decorum very quickly. One little girl aged about six had particularly caught his eye. Each time he went down the slide he waited for her to join him at the top as she raced around in a dizzying circuit. When she was gone, I was instructed to take her place.
Much as I love the little guy, I was glad when his daddy finished work and released me back into the community. And I had a plan. A reward for the afternoon of earning brownie points from my son and daughter-in-law. It was a beautiful evening and I’d take a detour along the coast to Trevose. That lighthouse was long overdue a visit. Over the last week and more, Cornwall had been basking under clear blue skies. Spring was definitely in the air at last, and brought with it more than a hint of the summer that lies ahead. The trouble was, Trevose needs a bit of sea action and preferably a cloud or two at least to gather some colour at the end of the day. It doesn’t take a lot of froth and foment to create a bit of drama in the water here, but this was as flat as it gets. A no show, photographically speaking. It was so calm that a number of anglers had gathered on the rocks down below the lighthouse, close to the water’s edge. I made for my usual spot, but very quickly realised that I needed to try something different if I was going to get a shot of any kind. Time to explore.
Some years ago, during one of our first visits here, my brother Dave took a fine shot of one of the sea stacks that lay beyond the northern tip of the headland. From down in the low saddle opposite the lighthouse where I usually go, it’s hidden from view, but I had walked up onto the far side of the headland once before and noticed it, a gnarly old shark fin poking from the sea. I’d never photographed it, but perhaps it was time to take a closer look, and see if I could get lower down than Dave had, perhaps to break the horizon with it. What if there was a way down onto the rocks that surely lay at the edge of the headland here? As I crested the rise, the stack appeared in front of me, with another cluster further out to sea, a bright sunbeam lighting up the water in between them. And yes, there was a safe route down to the rocks. A comfortable grassy knoll where I could sit and eat my orange and work out what I was going to try and do here.
From where I was sitting, the two groups of rocks were some distance apart. What if I could move further down towards the right and bring them closer to one another? The sunbeam would move to the right of the stacks as well, but that was fine with me. And could I get low enough to break the horizon with the shark’s fin? The answer was yes. I found the spot I was looking for quite easily, but continued exploring. I found something else too, but I’m going to return to that in another story if that’s ok.
As the sun sank lower towards the horizon, the beam across the sea intensified and spread towards the edge of the landfall at my feet. Not a cloud worthy of the name in sight, but that was fine. A calm flat sea offered perfect conditions for a long exposure, and even at thirty seconds a surprising amount of texture was retained on its surface. It didn’t last for long, and soon that golden beam disappeared as the sun changed colours, the top half orange and the bottom half red as it touched the edge of the ocean. Within moments it was gone, and what was left of the warmth in the air departed with it. I could so easily have come away with a disappointing shot of the lighthouse on this flat sea clear sky evening, and it would probably never have seen the light of day. Isn’t it strange how you can come to a location every now and then and always plump for the obvious? I’m glad that for once I had a little wander and discovered something new. I’ll try the classic shot again another time - it’s not going anywhere after all, is it?
Dave's shot: flic.kr/p/WWJkZv
Shark Fin
The temperature was dropping like a stone as I arrived at the headland. My first time here in over a year, and the previous two visits had been consigned to the dustbin due to endless rain driving straight into the front of the camera. Generally speaking, rain doesn't put me off going out, but when it's a constant battle to keep the lens free of unsightly blotches, that's usually an adventure too far. So really, it was the first time I’d been able to use the camera at Trevose since, well, since I bought this one actually - more than five years ago. The lighthouse and the lifeboat station on the other side of the headland had been its very first outing. Today, I was on the way home via an afternoon of babysitting my two year old grandson in nearby Wadebridge, and I was pooped. He’d pooped too for that matter, but that’s a story you don’t want to read about. We’ll move on shall we? We’ve formed a mutual admiration society, little Alfie and I. He seems particularly fond of his grandad for reasons that aren't entirely clear. I mean I played with him from minute one, fed him (he’s rather keen on what’s in the tuck box) and took him to the park, where he gazed at the older girls in a manner that’s going to get him into a spot of trouble when he’s older if he doesn’t learn a bit of decorum very quickly. One little girl aged about six had particularly caught his eye. Each time he went down the slide he waited for her to join him at the top as she raced around in a dizzying circuit. When she was gone, I was instructed to take her place.
Much as I love the little guy, I was glad when his daddy finished work and released me back into the community. And I had a plan. A reward for the afternoon of earning brownie points from my son and daughter-in-law. It was a beautiful evening and I’d take a detour along the coast to Trevose. That lighthouse was long overdue a visit. Over the last week and more, Cornwall had been basking under clear blue skies. Spring was definitely in the air at last, and brought with it more than a hint of the summer that lies ahead. The trouble was, Trevose needs a bit of sea action and preferably a cloud or two at least to gather some colour at the end of the day. It doesn’t take a lot of froth and foment to create a bit of drama in the water here, but this was as flat as it gets. A no show, photographically speaking. It was so calm that a number of anglers had gathered on the rocks down below the lighthouse, close to the water’s edge. I made for my usual spot, but very quickly realised that I needed to try something different if I was going to get a shot of any kind. Time to explore.
Some years ago, during one of our first visits here, my brother Dave took a fine shot of one of the sea stacks that lay beyond the northern tip of the headland. From down in the low saddle opposite the lighthouse where I usually go, it’s hidden from view, but I had walked up onto the far side of the headland once before and noticed it, a gnarly old shark fin poking from the sea. I’d never photographed it, but perhaps it was time to take a closer look, and see if I could get lower down than Dave had, perhaps to break the horizon with it. What if there was a way down onto the rocks that surely lay at the edge of the headland here? As I crested the rise, the stack appeared in front of me, with another cluster further out to sea, a bright sunbeam lighting up the water in between them. And yes, there was a safe route down to the rocks. A comfortable grassy knoll where I could sit and eat my orange and work out what I was going to try and do here.
From where I was sitting, the two groups of rocks were some distance apart. What if I could move further down towards the right and bring them closer to one another? The sunbeam would move to the right of the stacks as well, but that was fine with me. And could I get low enough to break the horizon with the shark’s fin? The answer was yes. I found the spot I was looking for quite easily, but continued exploring. I found something else too, but I’m going to return to that in another story if that’s ok.
As the sun sank lower towards the horizon, the beam across the sea intensified and spread towards the edge of the landfall at my feet. Not a cloud worthy of the name in sight, but that was fine. A calm flat sea offered perfect conditions for a long exposure, and even at thirty seconds a surprising amount of texture was retained on its surface. It didn’t last for long, and soon that golden beam disappeared as the sun changed colours, the top half orange and the bottom half red as it touched the edge of the ocean. Within moments it was gone, and what was left of the warmth in the air departed with it. I could so easily have come away with a disappointing shot of the lighthouse on this flat sea clear sky evening, and it would probably never have seen the light of day. Isn’t it strange how you can come to a location every now and then and always plump for the obvious? I’m glad that for once I had a little wander and discovered something new. I’ll try the classic shot again another time - it’s not going anywhere after all, is it?
Dave's shot: flic.kr/p/WWJkZv