Good Morning Sweden!
I wish I had a better relationship with early mornings, I really do. But some of us are just more suited to dealing with the dawning hours than others, while people like me potter about in the shadows beyond midnight quite contentedly. Somehow I survived the years and years of education and then work, having to conform to other peoples’ norms and dreading every single morning alarm, and it was only in the last few years of my career that I’d risen high enough in the corporate food chain to be able to bat most people away until I’d had my first coffee without fear of reprisals from above. However, my host, who knows well my aversion to life before 10am in general, was undaunted by the challenge of dragging me from my bed before dawn and announced we were heading out early, just a few hours after I’d arrived in Sweden. There was a lake, with a little promontory that might do well for sunrise, I was told. I looked at the map and then at my Photopills planner, sighing in relief as I pointed out that it wasn’t going to go as planned. The sun wasn’t going to pop up over the horizon in the right place. I could slumber until mid morning after all - it had been a long day with a delayed flight and the surrender of an hour as I moved from the UK into continental time.
But Steve’s wife Petra clearly wanted to get rid of us for a couple of hours and produced the master stroke that breached my defences and left them in tatters. Oh yes, the sun would be rising close to the Uddevalla Bridge from the top of Havstensklippan. And the forecast was looking good too. How lucky was this? I could get up at 4:15 in the morning after all. Hurrah! Thank you Petra. What did I do wrong already? I went to bed at ten, unpacked what I needed to for the early start and then failed to nod off until long after midnight, just as things always go when you know you’ve got to be on the go before the new day arrives. I managed a little more than three hours of sleep before I heard footsteps in the open plan dining room, next to which I’d been billeted.
There are those of you who like to shout from the rooftops about the early hours. I just wish you wouldn’t do it with such enthusiasm. I get it - yes it is the best time of day, when everything is still and silent and there’s nobody else around to get in your way. And I know it’s the time for morning mist and blood red skies, but this is not how my programming works at all. I’d happily swap my body clock for one that starts at 4am if I could. Still, I know I can do it from time to time when the occasion calls for it. Today was going to have to be one of those days. At five in the morning, armed with thermos flasks full of piping hot caffeine, we set off for Havstensklippan, a forested mini mountain that rises above the sound to the west of Uddevalla, parking the car at the holiday resort below and trekking up through the woods, dodging dark sinewy roots with a friction coefficient that made black ice seem grippy. Steve had probably already told me about the huge boulder we were now shuffling down on our dampened backsides, but I obviously hadn’t been listening properly beforehand or I’d have changed into something more suitable than my jeans.
Onwards and upwards we went until there was no more climbing to do. The forest gave way to a rocky table where we stood a hundred metres above the water, keeping our distance from the sheer drop into an unexpected morning bath. A hint of light crept along the eastern horizon beyond the bridge, just enough for us to peer into the camera screens and plan those sunrise compositions. A few test shots to see how things looked and then we’d be ready for the moment when everything started. I poured some coffee from my flask and waited.
And then it all kicked off. Rainbows on one side, morning glow on the other and a squall heading straight towards us from the south. Preparation turned to panic as we chased all over the headland, pointing our cameras here, there and everywhere. Joyous carnage as my first Swedish morning arrived to say hello. This serene looking moment belies the sense of urgency as the light bounced around like an overexcited jack in the box. Exhausted, exhilarated, we hid beneath a huge umbrella as the urgent shower raced over us. There are more moments to share from this fantastic hour on top of the wooded hill, so I won’t waste the words I’ll need to tell them later. But there was no denying that this had been a good idea. Even if I still really don’t get on with early mornings.
Good Morning Sweden!
I wish I had a better relationship with early mornings, I really do. But some of us are just more suited to dealing with the dawning hours than others, while people like me potter about in the shadows beyond midnight quite contentedly. Somehow I survived the years and years of education and then work, having to conform to other peoples’ norms and dreading every single morning alarm, and it was only in the last few years of my career that I’d risen high enough in the corporate food chain to be able to bat most people away until I’d had my first coffee without fear of reprisals from above. However, my host, who knows well my aversion to life before 10am in general, was undaunted by the challenge of dragging me from my bed before dawn and announced we were heading out early, just a few hours after I’d arrived in Sweden. There was a lake, with a little promontory that might do well for sunrise, I was told. I looked at the map and then at my Photopills planner, sighing in relief as I pointed out that it wasn’t going to go as planned. The sun wasn’t going to pop up over the horizon in the right place. I could slumber until mid morning after all - it had been a long day with a delayed flight and the surrender of an hour as I moved from the UK into continental time.
But Steve’s wife Petra clearly wanted to get rid of us for a couple of hours and produced the master stroke that breached my defences and left them in tatters. Oh yes, the sun would be rising close to the Uddevalla Bridge from the top of Havstensklippan. And the forecast was looking good too. How lucky was this? I could get up at 4:15 in the morning after all. Hurrah! Thank you Petra. What did I do wrong already? I went to bed at ten, unpacked what I needed to for the early start and then failed to nod off until long after midnight, just as things always go when you know you’ve got to be on the go before the new day arrives. I managed a little more than three hours of sleep before I heard footsteps in the open plan dining room, next to which I’d been billeted.
There are those of you who like to shout from the rooftops about the early hours. I just wish you wouldn’t do it with such enthusiasm. I get it - yes it is the best time of day, when everything is still and silent and there’s nobody else around to get in your way. And I know it’s the time for morning mist and blood red skies, but this is not how my programming works at all. I’d happily swap my body clock for one that starts at 4am if I could. Still, I know I can do it from time to time when the occasion calls for it. Today was going to have to be one of those days. At five in the morning, armed with thermos flasks full of piping hot caffeine, we set off for Havstensklippan, a forested mini mountain that rises above the sound to the west of Uddevalla, parking the car at the holiday resort below and trekking up through the woods, dodging dark sinewy roots with a friction coefficient that made black ice seem grippy. Steve had probably already told me about the huge boulder we were now shuffling down on our dampened backsides, but I obviously hadn’t been listening properly beforehand or I’d have changed into something more suitable than my jeans.
Onwards and upwards we went until there was no more climbing to do. The forest gave way to a rocky table where we stood a hundred metres above the water, keeping our distance from the sheer drop into an unexpected morning bath. A hint of light crept along the eastern horizon beyond the bridge, just enough for us to peer into the camera screens and plan those sunrise compositions. A few test shots to see how things looked and then we’d be ready for the moment when everything started. I poured some coffee from my flask and waited.
And then it all kicked off. Rainbows on one side, morning glow on the other and a squall heading straight towards us from the south. Preparation turned to panic as we chased all over the headland, pointing our cameras here, there and everywhere. Joyous carnage as my first Swedish morning arrived to say hello. This serene looking moment belies the sense of urgency as the light bounced around like an overexcited jack in the box. Exhausted, exhilarated, we hid beneath a huge umbrella as the urgent shower raced over us. There are more moments to share from this fantastic hour on top of the wooded hill, so I won’t waste the words I’ll need to tell them later. But there was no denying that this had been a good idea. Even if I still really don’t get on with early mornings.