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Usually I like to take my time to compose a scene. You see I've listened carefully to the advice of my favourite landscape photographer on YouTube (Nigel Danson - he's a man who understands how to do this stuff) and absorb a location before I open the camera bag. I even do this in places I know well - places such as the space between Cape Cornwall and Botallack Mine here at the Edge of Eternity where the Atlantic Ocean stretches west for 2200 odd miles before arriving in Newfoundland. It takes a while to leave the journey to a location behind and settle in the surroundings. Often I will sit and watch for an hour or more, hoping to sight that pod of dolphins that so rarely appears, straining my eyes over the horizon for the distant Scilly Isles, and simply gazing at the sea below me. It's a place that brings the senses alive, whatever the time and whatever the weather. Eventually I'll fix on an idea and set the camera on the tripod, take a test shot and then wait for the light.
And so it was on this Saturday afternoon at the end of June. The lockdown restrictions in the UK had eased a little, and we were able to get out and about to the places we love so much. The summer holiday to Andalusia had been postponed because neither of us really fancied the idea of wearing a mask everywhere in 40 degree heat, but with places like this in our own back yard it didn't seem to matter. In fact despite what's going on around all of us this year, it's been a particularly enjoyable summer. It's only really dawned on me this year how lucky I am to be able to leave my home and stand here, at the edge of the British Isles in under an hour.
We sat at the edge of the granite outcrop high above the sea - they're known as castles here, which used to confuse me but I believe it's in reference to the hard igneous rock that makes the backbone of our county. We were facing north, directly away from the scene in the picture. You might wonder why on earth we'd be looking in any direction other than this, but the view towards the sunlit old engine houses of Botallack Mine, perched perilously over the sea is something in itself. The deed was done; I'd settled upon a composition and now it was a matter of timing and light. I sat and waited. It's a place where you can lose your sense of time and drift away on a tide of daydreams, but my reverie was interrupted by the voice of Ali, who was looking in the opposite direction. "Behind you!" she called across the stiff breeze, pointing enthusiastically towards the Cape Cornwall side of our vista. From her obvious excitement I was expecting to look round and see a pantomime villain advancing towards me.
And I turned to see this. A leaden sky with yellow sunlight filtering eastwards from over the sea. Of course light like this never lasts more than a minute or two and an almighty flurry of activity ensued very quickly as I hastened to a new position, the opening of the camera bag flapping about furiously in the wind. These are tricky places for the unwary and you have to take care unless you want a terminal bath before being dashed upon the rocks, and framing the shot wasn't as unhurried as I'd have liked it to have been. But in less than three minutes the ominous black and grey had been replaced by fluffy white on blue and it was as if this moment had never happened. The weather in this country, especially along its wild western edges is so delightfully capricious. It makes planning a family barbecue an ever risky affair, but for us photographers it's an absolute dream.
It's Saturday - the weather is forecast is looking decidedly fickle. I think I know what I'm going to do today.
Panorama stitched out of 10 single-shots. Shortly after a hailstorm hit us and during light rainfall. Big patches of blue sky were behind us, but everything in front was, what just passed us.
You can easily see the heavy rain still falling in the distance.
Kernofornia. That's what they call it down here. If that's leaving you confused, you may need to know that Kernow is the name of my home county in its own ancient Celtic language. Not my invention, but I've rather taken to it, and in recent weeks we've been enjoying the sort of conditions that Cornwall may have a reputation for, with blue skies and dare I say it, hot sunny afternoons, although in truth are not really justified as people who live here will testify. I've often maintained that we have two seasons here - cold drizzle and warm drizzle. In fact the locals call it "mizzle," a contraction of mist and.........well you get it.
Of course until very recently the calm sunny days have been enjoyed from the safety of the garden, where on working days I've spent my morning coffee breaks, my lunch hours and the early evenings sprawled in a chair with a cup of tea and a good book. But now, with care we can head out into the big wide world once more. I wouldn't say we're like sugar hungry kids who've been released into a sweet shop with limitless cash, but we have headed beyond the end of the garden, or "The Wall" in Game of Thrones parlance on a handful of occasions since our nation's leaders told us we were allowed to again.
Last Wednesday found us on the beach at Gwithian for the second time in three days, with our supper in tupperware containers, and a sneaky draught of ale in my Chilly's bottle. After enjoying a delicious helping of pasta, accompanied by what I was later astonished to hear were vegetarian sausages, I looked at the camera bag and wondered what to do with it. And so I headed towards the lighthouse that I've photographed so many times before. I stood, stared, pointed the camera at it and scratched my head in confusion. Nothing was connecting the foreground to the back of the shot and all of the lines were leading the eye right out to sea and away from the subject. If I were alone I'd have advanced closer to it in search of a composition, but my partner was on one of her middle distance beach hikes somewhere to the west and she was driving. So I turned around and looked back over the beach where I'd sat on the dunes filling myself with pasta. And vegetarian sausages. And I saw lines in the wet sand which gave me an idea. I just needed a surfer or two with a nice white board to walk in the right direction.
I'm trying not to get too carried away with these ICM style images, but they've been well received by friends and family, especially the small circle of them who've appeared in the images I've taken and are currently ordering prints of them for their kitchen walls. I have no idea who these two chaps are, but they were in the right place at the right time. I really should leave my camera at home and get in the sea as well. Roll on summer!
The horizon exhales its last breath of color,
a shoreline caught between memory and forgetting.
Tourists and locals pause together at the edge of light,
witnesses to the day’s surrender.
What remains is not the day itself,
but the echo of its passing.
Meet the photographer : youtu.be/-iMIpSY85K4?si=49HeBYGjZCfI1pcX
Landscape photography often rewards patience more than planning. This image was created during a period of rapidly changing weather when dense cloud cover obscured much of the surrounding landscape. For a brief moment, the clouds parted, allowing shafts of sunlight to reach the mountainside and lake below.
The composition uses the winding path as a visual guide, inviting the viewer into the scene while emphasizing the scale of the landscape beyond. The contrast between the darkened foreground, the illuminated slopes, and the dramatic cloud formations creates a sense of tension and balance that reflects the constantly changing nature of mountain environments.
This work explores the relationship between weather, light, and place—capturing a fleeting moment that existed for only a few seconds before disappearing back into shadow.
#LandscapePhotography #NaturePhotography #MountainPhotography #MoodyLandscape #StormClouds #DramaticLight #Sunbeams #GodRays #ChasingLight #AtmosphericPhotography #LandscapeLovers #EarthFocus #DiscoverEarth #WildernessCulture #OutdoorPhotography #ExploreMore #AdventurePhotography #MountainViews #TrailPhotography #NaturePerfection #EpicLandscape #LightAndShadow #WildWeather #Cloudscape #NatureLovers #RoamThePlanet #StayAndWander #VisualOfLife #EarthPix #FineArtPhotography
If I were forced by some imaginary omnipotence to pick just one location in which to spend the rest of my days pointing my camera towards the sea, I don't think I'd look beyond Porth Nanven. It's never been lost on me that growing up in Cornwall has spoiled me with a glut of local hotspots, several of which I happily return to time and time again. Some photographers choose not to return to places after a visit or two, while others are content to retread their steps over and over, learning a location under all of its aspects. There's room for all of us of course. Yesterday unexpectedly, there was room for Katie, a friend I haven't seen for a while who is a wild swimmer and takes some spectacular underwater photographs. She's as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside and greeted me with the worst display of social distancing since it was invented by bounding towards me and wrapping me an enormous hug. I've missed hugs. It was a delight to see her. She's one of those people who make the world feel like a good place to be in. She'd been swimming of course, and was making ready to leave. time was moving on and she's an early riser who confesses to being no use whatsoever after 9pm. Sunset was due after 9:30.
In one of the more distant counties of our nation, this corner of delights is particularly remote even for those of us who live here, and the approach to it from the lonely windswept outpost of St Just is a descent into what feels like a primordial other world. It starts with a twisting drive on a narrow road flanked by high Cornish hedgerows adorned with foxgloves and campion, before a sharp descent takes you past the last few houses, one garden boasting enormous Canarian echiums covered in tiny spikes bearing thousands of purple blooms. A little further down on the final bend, a massive gunnera, leaves at least a metre wide spreads towards the road. The final drag down to the small car park is festooned with ferns and bracken. Finally you arrive on a beach consisting almost entirely of huge egg shaped chunks of granite, worn smooth by year upon year of Atlantic attrition. Hence the nickname, "Dinosaur Egg Beach." And then you look out to the ocean to witness the view, in this case with an ominous bank of threatening cloud that had the audacity to interrupt my sandwich and found me racing to set up the camera more quickly than I usually would. I'm pleased to report that I stayed dry, and it seemed from the wet roads that the cloud had instead dumped its contents 30 miles to the east over Redruth as I arrived at home later on after one of the most enjoyable evenings with the camera for quite some time.
A double rainbow arches over lush green and golden rice fields in Laos, creating a surreal scene of tranquility. This moment showcases the harmony between nature, light, and land. The soft mist in the air adds a beautiful glow to the landscape. I felt very fortunate to be able to withness and photograph it.
Xakanaxa Lagoon | Moremi
I was looking especially for him on this boat-trip and put all my trust in the guide, who was fantastic and found one, that unfortunately flew away.
This one is special, as I found it and this little beauty was so nice to hop around from spot to spot, so we could follow him for quite a while through the channel.
LOFOTEN | NORWAY
Found this glowing, green algea on several locations around the island.
This was Unstad-Beach, right before sunset, with the last bit of light illuminating the scene.
I love the pretty cool, dark mood on this one and the hint of orange the sunrays brought to the sky as a good contrast to the dominating blue tone in the picture.
Bwindi Impenetrable Forest | Uganda
We visited the Gorillas of Bwindi and amidst the family there was this only 4 months old girl. Protected, loved and cared for by the whole family. What a wholesome moment we could share with them there.
Watching the miles roll by without any rush. Rediscovering the pleasure of train travel aboard the Coast Starlight.
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Architecture the light #25
Hong Kong, 2021
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Hong Kong’s landmark—dense buildings.
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works by photomanm
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