Bite-Size Blog Post #86 - Grimspound
A Safe Bet?
In yesterday’s blog I wrote about my slight disappointment with the heather around Birch Tor. It wasn’t so much that there wasn’t much of it, but that there wasn’t any at all! Well, at least not where I wanted it anyway.
While I was standing on Birch Tor, making the most of the view I did have, I looked across towards Hookney Tor and Grimspound. It reminded me of the wonderful photographs I captured there last year as part of my heather project, so I made a mental note to return.
Returning to Grimspound was like visiting an old friend. I knew the location, I knew the composition and, in a way, I felt safe there.
But with that familiarity comes a problem.
As I stood in exactly the same spot I had stood in for the previous two years, preparing to capture the same composition once again, I started to question why I was taking the photograph. Were the conditions better than on my previous visits? Was the heather looking better?
The answer to both questions was no.
So, is taking the same photograph problematic for a photographer?
Yes and no.
Yes, because as photographers we should push ourselves creatively. We should explore our local landscapes, but also push our creative boundaries, even when we are somewhere we know well. It is very easy to fall back on a familiar composition simply because we know it works.
And no, because sometimes a composition just works. There is still a lot of joy to be had from standing in the same place you stood last year and taking the same photograph, perhaps in slightly different conditions.
As I mentioned in yesterday’s blog post, a trip out with the camera can sometimes be challenging and even disappointing from a photographic point of view. But what is never disappointing is the experience of being outdoors.
Breathing in the fresh air, listening to the birds and simply soaking up the view. Those moments are restorative, and sometimes the photography has to come second.
I’ll be back to Grimspound.
Maybe I’ll take the same composition again. But one thing is for sure, I’ll love doing it.
Grimspound, Dartmoor National Park - Nikon Z8 with Nikkor Z 14-30mm f/4 S at 18mm, f/13, 0.6 sec at ISO 64.
Bite-Size Blog Post #85 - Heather Hunting on Birch Tor
I was disappointed by lack of heather on Birch Tor but I still have high hopes for this location later in the year.
A Parched Landscape
When I first photographed Birch Tor earlier this year, I was sure it was going to make a great location during heather season. It’s in an area that is well known for heather, with locations such as Hookney Tor and Grimspound being firm favourites of mine.
Returning for the first time during this year’s heather season, I was disappointed to find there was very little heather around the tor. It’s not that there isn’t any in the surrounding landscape, but there simply isn’t enough close to the tor to make for an interesting composition.
I put this down to the lack of rain and an unusually long spell of hot summer weather, which has left the ground looking parched and distinctly unphotogenic. Returning one evening, during what should be the peak of heather season, I again found the landscape looking bare and dry.
It’s not just the lack of heather. The absence of the lushness I would normally expect at this time of year takes something away from the experience of photographing this wonderful tor.
But I don’t want to end on a gloomy note. Despite the challenging appearance of the landscape, spending a summer evening on Dartmoor is a pleasure and never a waste of time. There is always something to see, even when the conditions aren’t quite what I had hoped for.
In fact, this visit has only reinforced my feeling that Birch Tor has more to give. It might not be heather this year, but I’m already looking forward to seeing how the landscape transforms when autumn arrives.
Birch Tor, Dartmoor National Park - Nikon Z8 with Nikkor Z 14-30mm f/4 S at 22mm, f/13, 1/8 sec.
Bite-Size Blog Post #84 - Return to Honeybag
I return to Honeybag Tor for another sunrise with the heather, and a tiny gap in the clouds rewards me with spectacular light.
The Smallest of Gaps
If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you’ll know that I often talk about the thrill of seeing a gap in an otherwise cloudy sky, especially around the horizon just as the sun is rising.
There is always a sense of anticipation. Not knowing for 100% certain that the sun will actually pass through that gap is all part of the fun. Sometimes it does, but more often it doesn’t. You think you’ve found the perfect opening, only for it to move, disappear or turn out to be nothing more than a layer of distant cloud. It’s all part of the fun of landscape photography.
Returning to Honeybag Tor to capture more photographs of the heather, I was presented with the smallest of gaps. All around me was heavy cloud and it was raining lightly, but I was pretty confident I would see the sun.
I’d checked PhotoPills to verify the exact position where the sun would rise using its AR mode. The gap appeared to be clear sky, and there was already a strong orange glow beginning to develop.
My personal photography style is to use side lighting, but I had a strong feeling that the sky was going to be the star of the show this morning. So I pointed my camera straight at the gap and waited.
Normally, the glow from the rising sun only illuminates the underside of the clouds as it approaches the horizon. But thanks to the rain and the position of the cloud, the glow continued to build as the sun broke the horizon.
Honeybag Tor, Dartmoor National Park - Nikon Z8 with Nikkor Z 14-30mm f/4 S at 18mm, f/22, 0.6 sec at ISO 800
It was a glorious sight, and yet another reminder of why I get up early in the morning to photograph sunrise. You see things that few other people get to witness. It really is a special time of day.
I’ve already photographed Honeybag Tor a few times during this heather season, but I see no reason to stop going back. As long as there is heather on the ground and soft light from the rising sun, I’ll be there with my camera and a massive smile on my face.
Bite-Size Blog Post #83 - Emsworthy
Emsworthy Tor has been part of my photography journey for many years, even inspiring the logo that represents my work.
Does It Look Familiar?
The landscape photography blog you’re reading now, The Exposed Blog, will celebrate its 10th birthday next month. With nearly 500 blog posts published, it has been a regular part of my photography journey and one of the main ways I share my work.
This milestone has got me thinking about the last decade and the locations that have come to mean something to me. One of those places is Emsworthy Tor, and not simply because it is such a photogenic location.
Back in 2018, I decided to have a logo commissioned to represent my landscape photography. I didn’t want the usual lens aperture graphic or something that simply represented a camera. I wanted something that represented me and my photography.
The designer, who knew my work, picked up on my love of photographing Emsworthy Tor and based the logo around it. I couldn’t have been happier with the result.
When I found myself in the Haytor area this week, I decided it was time to give this old favourite a visit. Although I’ve walked past Emsworthy Tor many times over the years, I hadn’t photographed it for quite some time.
Unfortunately, the tree that is such a significant part of this location has been damaged and no longer has the distinctive shape that made it so appealing to photograph. It’s a real shame that it doesn’t look quite as good as it once did.
But in the right conditions, Emsworthy Tor is still well worth photographing. Especially on a lovely summer evening, with cloud in the sky, warm light from the setting sun, and the greens, yellows and purples of the Dartmoor landscape all coming together.
It might be a while before I return again, but Emsworthy Tor is a location that will always remain close to my heart.
Emsworthy Tor, Dartmoor National Park - Nikon Z8 with Nikkor Z 14-30mm f/4 S at 14mm, f/13, 1/80 sec at ISO 640, Kase Filters Revolution CPL.
Bite-Size Blog Post #82 - Honeybag Tor at Sunrise
I never quite know what the Dartmoor weather is going to give me, but after a morning of waiting, the light finally broke through and transformed Honeybag Tor.
What a Difference 12 hrs Makes
Yesterday I wrote about photographing Honeybag Tor on a sunny, clear blue sky day. The photographs were bright and colourful, but perhaps lacked a little impact. They lacked the drama that I so often seek in my Dartmoor photographs.
The following morning couldn’t have been more different.
The forecast had predicted some cloud cover, but arriving at Honeybag Tor again, I was slightly dismayed to find that the sky was completely covered. I know, just yesterday I was complaining about blue skies and now I’m complaining about too much cloud. What can I say? I’m difficult to please!
That said, there was a small slither of a gap near the horizon, so there was a chance I might get a little light on the landscape if the sun passed through it. And indeed it did, but unfortunately the gap wasn’t clear sky. It was simply a layer of hazy cloud further away. I could see the sun, but it wasn’t casting any light on the landscape, which remained firmly in flat light.
I spent some time staring at the sky, hoping the conditions would change, but I was reasonably sure they weren’t going to. So I started walking back to the car.
I hadn’t got far when I noticed another, much clearer gap appearing in the cloud. There was a possibility that the sun might find a way through it, but I wasn’t sure. So I waited.
And waited.
Sure enough, my patience was rewarded and I found myself walking very quickly back up to my viewpoint to capture some photographs.
The scene had been completely transformed.
Yes, there was still plenty of cloud, but thanks to the glow from the sun, it had become another character in my scene rather than something that was simply getting in the way. The light was illuminating the ground perfectly, catching the clump of heather that I had deliberately positioned in my frame.
It was magical.
No sooner had the light arrived, it was gone again. But what a morning of ups and downs!
And it’s those ups and downs that make landscape photography so exciting. You can spend an hour watching a scene unfold, wondering whether anything is going to happen, only for everything to suddenly come together for a frame or two.
Even after all these years, the experience of seeing the landscape come alive in front of me will never become boring.
It’s those moments I cherish.
Bite-Size Blog Post #81 - Honeybag Tor at Sunset
I spent an evening at Honeybag Tor exploring the heather beneath yet another clear blue sky. While the conditions weren’t ideal, the session gave me the chance to explore new compositions and prepare for when the clouds finally return.
When Will I See Cloud Again?
There is a recurring theme with my landscape photography this summer, and that is clear blue skies. As most landscape photographers will tell you, there are few worse types of sky than a completely clear blue one! But as I said in a recent blog post, “when life gives you lemons, make lemonade”, so I’m learning to embrace the blue skies.
And embrace them I did when I visited Honeybag Tor the other evening in search of heather. I had been becoming increasingly concerned that the long, dry summer might have affected the heather this year, but it appears that Honeybag Tor still has its fair share of photogenic clumps.
The long dry weather has brought some unexpected benefits, though. The yellow, sun kissed colour of the grass can be quite striking, while the bracken is taking on shades of green and gold. Mixed with the purple of the heather and the yellow of the gorse, these colours can create some wonderfully bold and colourful compositions.
A little rain would certainly help those colours pop, though!
Honeybag Tor, Dartmoor National Park - Nikon Z8 with Nikkor Z 14-30mm f/4 S at 14mm, f/13, 1/10 sec at ISO 64, Kase Revolution CPL.
But I didn’t have rain, or clouds, so my time out with the camera would have to be more exploratory. Not every trip out with the camera has to result in an amazing photograph. Sometimes, it’s simply about exploring an area, reacquainting myself with familiar compositions and looking for new possibilities.
In fact, I often find that these exploratory sessions can be some of the most valuable trips I make with the camera. They give me the opportunity to work out where I want to be, what compositions might work and, perhaps most importantly, what I want to do when the conditions eventually come together.
These photographs might be a little clichéd, but that doesn’t really matter. I now know that when the clouds finally return, the light is right and the conditions are more favourable, I’ll know exactly where I want to be and what I want to photograph.
Now, if only someone could arrange for those clouds to make an appearance!
Honeybag Tor, Dartmoor National Park - Nikon Z8 with Nikkor Z 14-30mm f/4 S at 23mm, f/13, 1/6 sec at ISO 64, Kase Revolution CPL.
Bite-Size Blog Post #80 - Black Tor
I head back to Black Tor to explore its shapes, textures and contrasts through the simplicity of black and white photography.
An Exercise in Shape and Contrast
The long dry period that has accompanied this summer is showing no signs of abating. Clear skies and a parched landscape are becoming something I’m getting used to. Summer is a period that sends some landscape photographers into hibernation as they wait for autumn to arrive, but for me, it’s an exciting time, full of opportunities.
One of those opportunities is to practise the craft of black and white photography. This style of landscape photography can work particularly well with the clearer skies and dry landscape, allowing me to concentrate on shapes, textures and contrast rather than colour.
Black Tor is a location I haven’t photographed since visiting a few years ago while filming my Discovering Dartmoor video series. It’s been on my list of places to return to ever since, but you know how it is. Life just gets in the way sometimes!
I was sitting in my studio looking at my locations map, trying to think of somewhere fresh to visit, and despite Black Tor being on the opposite side of Dartmoor from where I live, I decided to make the long journey to this somewhat diminutive tor.
There aren’t necessarily any obvious compositions at Black Tor, particularly with the prominent Princetown mast sitting in the background. But after moving the tripod around, up and down, left and right, I soon found myself looking at a composition that started to work.
Using my Nikon Z8’s Deep Tone Monochrome picture profile, I could visualise on the camera what the finished image might look like. The texture of the tor is striking and colour of the grass really stand out, helped by just how dry the landscape has become.
The photographs are somewhat experimental, but I really enjoyed capturing them. And isn’t that the primary point of photography? To enjoy the experience, experiment a little and perhaps come away with something different from what you originally had in mind?
Let me know what you think in the comments below.
All images captured with Nikon Z8 and Nikkor Z 14-30mm f/4 S, ISO with Kase Revolution CPL.
Bite-Size Blog Post #79 - Dawlish Warren
I had imagined a very different morning at Dawlish Warren, but with a little creativity I found a way to turn the fog and flat light into a photograph I really like.
When Life Gives You Lemons, Make Lemonade
I’m sure most of you are familiar with the saying, “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” It’s a phrase that encourages you to turn something negative into something positive. It’s a phrase that could be applied to almost every trip out with the camera, because it’s very rare that you’ll get perfect conditions. Of course, that ignores the question of whether there is such a thing as perfect conditions in the first place, but perhaps that’s a conversation for another day.
The reason I bring up this popular saying is that it very neatly applies to my most recent trip to Dawlish Warren beach. It’s a beach I love and have photographed more times than I can remember. It’s a special place, and it keeps pulling me back.
On the morning of my most recent visit, I had a glorious sunrise in my mind’s eye. I was imagining reflected light on the water, the undersides of the clouds catching the first light, and perhaps a little glow on the groynes. I’ve seen these conditions before, and it can be very special when everything comes together.
However, what I had imagined was very different from reality.
Arriving at Dawlish Warren, I found the beach cloaked in fog. Or perhaps sea mist. I’m not entirely sure where the difference in definitions lies! Everything looked rather flat and grey. This wasn’t what I had come for, but I needed to find something in my creative toolbox that would allow me to make the most of the conditions.
I’d been given lemons, and I was definitely going to make lemonade!
Dawlish Warren Beach, Devon - Nikon Z8 with Nikkor Z 24-120mm f/4 S at 24mm, f/11, 60 secs at ISO 64, Kase Revolution CPL and 6 stop ND.
The key to getting a compelling photograph was to simplify the scene as much as I could. There was no colour to speak of, very little movement in the water, and the sky was blending into the sea at the horizon. For me, the creative solution was to remove what little colour there was and work in black and white, combined with a long exposure.
With the groyne being the only really definable object in the scene, I thought it could make for a striking composition. The simplicity of the scene actually became its strength. Rather than trying to capture everything in front of me, I could concentrate on that single structure and the atmosphere surrounding it.
So, was my lemonade tasty?
Well, I think it was. But I’d be interested to know what you think, so please leave me a comment below.
Dawlish Warren Beach, Devon - Nikon Z8 with Nikkor Z 24-120mm f/4 S at 24mm, f/11, 8 secs at ISO 64, Kase Revolution CPL and 3 stop ND.
Bite-Size Blog Post #78 - Birch Tor
A dry summer has left me wondering how this year’s heather season will unfold as I head to Birch Tor in search of Dartmoor’s purple landscape.
In Search of Heather
Late July, through August and into September are some of my favourite times for photography on Dartmoor. It’s heather season, and as summer progresses, the landscape gradually starts to turn purple. I find it gives me a whole new level of motivation to get out early in the morning.
But this summer is different.
Why? Well, unusually for the South West of the UK, it hasn’t rained. For weeks. In fact, I can’t remember the last time we had any proper rain. Of course, we can have long periods of good weather here and I’m more than happy to enjoy all the benefits that brings. But those periods are almost always interrupted by a few days of rubbish weather and a bit of rain.
This year has been very different.
It’s so dry on Dartmoor at the moment that the government has even issued emergency warnings, including restrictions on things such as portable BBQs. The ground is parched, the grass has turned yellow and the landscape is starting to look very different from the Dartmoor I’m used to seeing at this time of year.
So, will the dry weather affect the heather?
It isn’t a simple question to answer. Dry weather doesn’t necessarily mean there will be no heather, and there are plenty of other factors that influence how it develops and when it flowers.
I was thinking about all of this when I visited Birch Tor recently. I had been hoping to find the first real signs of the purple landscape I associate with this time of year, but I was disappointed to find very little heather in flower.
There could be several reasons for this. Perhaps I was simply too early and the heather on this particular part of the moor hadn’t reached its peak. Perhaps the exceptionally dry conditions have affected its growth. Or perhaps Birch Tor simply doesn’t produce the same spectacular display as its nearby neighbour, Grimspound.
Whatever the reason, I’m not going to write Birch Tor off just yet.
This is only the beginning of the heather season for me, and while I wasn’t able to capture the photographs I had hoped for on this visit, I’ll be returning. One of the things I love about photographing Dartmoor is how dramatically a familiar location can change over the course of just a few weeks.
And, even without the heather, the photographs I captured on this visit have given me plenty of motivation to return again very soon.
So stay tuned. There’s still plenty of heather season to come.
Birch Tor, Dartmoor National Park, Devon - Nikon Z8 with Nikkor Z 14-30mm f/4 S at 16mm, f/13, 1/10 sec at ISO 80.
Birch Tor, Dartmoor National Park, Devon - Nikon Z8 with Nikkor Z 14-30mm f/4 S at 16mm, f/13, 1/30 sec at ISO 400.
Bite-Size Blog Post #77 - Exploring Manaton
Finding the first hints of heather on Dartmoor reminded me that some evenings are more about the experience than the images I capture.
Early Signs of Heather
The area around Manaton is best known for one of Dartmoor’s most iconic tors, Bowerman’s Nose. As a landscape photographer, it’s hard not to be drawn to this glorious granite monument. It dominates the surrounding landscape and photographs beautifully throughout the year. Even though I’ve photographed Bowerman’s Nose numerous times, and I’m sure I’ll continue to do so, it’s important to remember that it isn’t the only thing that catches my eye in this part of Dartmoor.
So, on one beautiful, sunny summer evening, I decided to walk past Bowerman’s Nose and explore the plateau above it. It wasn’t the first time I’d wandered across this area, but it was the first time I’d set out with the sole intention of exploring it with my camera rather than heading for something familiar.
It can sometimes be difficult to visualise how a landscape will photograph when the light is harsh and the sky is completely cloudless, but there were enough hints of potential to keep me interested. One composition in particular really caught my attention. It’s still very much a work in progress, though, so you’ll have to stay tuned to the blog to see where that one leads.
What did surprise me was the heather. I don’t normally expect to see Dartmoor’s heather appearing until a little later in the month, but there were already patches beginning to bloom. It was only the earliest signs of colour, yet it was enough to get me excited. It immediately took me back to the wonderful evenings I spent photographing the heather across Dartmoor last year.
Manaton Heather, Dartmoor National Park, Devon - Nikon Z8 with Nikkor Z 14-30mm f/4 S at 24mm, f/13, 1/125 sec at ISO 800.
Sometimes it’s important to remember that landscape photography isn’t just about coming home with spectacular images. It’s about enjoying the experience of being out there. That’s exactly what this evening became: just me, my camera, and a sense of adventure. I may not have captured any portfolio-worthy photographs, but discovering new possibilities, learning more about this part of Dartmoor, and simply enjoying the walk proved to be far more rewarding.
Bite-Size Blog Post #76 - The Pap of Glencoe
I've spent years looking up at the Pap of Glencoe and wondering what the view from its summit would be like. On my latest trip to the Highlands, I finally made the climb and was rewarded with spectacular views and wonderful photographic opportunities.
A Bucket List Hill
For as long as I’ve been visiting Glencoe, I’ve wanted to ascend the Pap of Glencoe, or to use its Gaelic name, Sgòrr na Cìche. At 742m it’s not a Munro, but what it lacks in height it more than makes up for in grandeur. It has a distinctive shape that can’t be missed when driving past Glencoe village, rising steeply from the shores of Loch Leven. I always imagined that the views from the summit would be spectacular.
On my most recent visit to the homeland, I decided that as long as the weather wasn’t horrendous, I would make time to climb this bucket list hill. So when an evening of relatively good weather presented itself, I jumped in the car and made the short drive to Glencoe. The route I chose provided some excellent views of the hill, increasing my excitement for what lay ahead.
I was soon out of the car and beginning my ascent of the Pap. It’s a steep walk, but one that rewards you with better and better views with every step. The final 150m of ascent are a little trickier as the path narrows, becoming less defined and increasingly rocky, but I was soon at the top admiring some of the finest views that Glencoe has to offer.
And the views did not disappoint. I could see for miles in every direction and even the summit of Ben Nevis stood clear on the horizon. With so much cloud and areas of light and shadow moving across the landscape, I immediately switched my Nikon Z8 to Deep Tone Monochrome, my favourite black and white camera profile, and began picking out compositions with my Nikkor 24-120mm f/4 lens.
My time on the summit wasn’t all about taking photographs though. I also took time to sit and admire the view, breathe in the fresh Highland air and simply relax. And, of course, enjoy a few snacks.
As I descended in the early evening light, the landscape became no less spectacular. I stopped several times to capture the view looking down Loch Linnhe, making the most of the constantly changing light.
As I arrived back at the car, I reflected on my adventure to the Pap of Glencoe. Although I had finally ticked this bucket list item off, I knew it would not be the last time I would ascend this magnificent Glencoe hill.
Loch Linnhe from the Pap, Glencoe, Scotland - Nikon Z8 with Nikkor Z 24-120mm f/4 S at 28mm, f/11, 1/250 sec at ISO 320.
Bite-Size Blog Post #75 - Fiend's Fell
A short walk in the Pennines revealed a stark but beautiful landscape where light, shadow, and a solitary cairn became the perfect black and white subject.
Featureless and Challenging
In my last blog post, I talked about my day out exploring and photographing the north east of the Lake District with friend and collaborator Chris Sale. Though Chris knows the Lake District very well, he has also spent the last few years getting to know the Pennines. So, the day after we photographed the Lake District, he took me out on a short walk to a nearby hill in the Pennines.
The drive up to Hartside Pass was brilliant, full of twisty bends and sweeping views. I could immediately see why it had become so popular with drivers and motorcyclists alike. It was a lovely sunny day, so the road was busy, but we were soon parked up and walking out across the open moorland towards the cairn on Fiend’s Fell.
Chris had told me many times how featureless parts of the Pennines can feel, and he wasn’t wrong. In many ways, it reminded me of Dartmoor, just without the dramatic tors. The views were stunning though: rolling hills stretching as far as the eye could see. But beyond that, there was very little to catch the eye. I could suddenly understand why Chris gets excited about stone walls and ruined buildings. Finding an interesting foreground out here certainly isn’t easy. For me, the most obvious, and probably only, choice was the cairn itself.
Almost immediately, I began thinking in black and white. Removing the colour would help emphasise the texture and structure of the cairn, while also drawing attention to the moving patterns of light and shadow moving across the landscape and sky. I never thought I’d get excited about photographing a cairn!
While the Lake District is undoubtedly the more varied and dramatic landscape, there’s no doubt that the Pennines are an area deserving of much closer attention.
Bite-Size Blog Post #74 - North East Lake District
A memorable day exploring the north west Lake District with good company, beautiful light, and plenty of photographic inspiration.
A Day of Exploration
A few weeks ago, my friend and long-time photography collaborator, Chris Sale, visited me in Devon and we spent a brilliant weekend photographing Dartmoor. During that weekend, we agreed that I should stop off to see him the next time I was on my way up to Scotland so we could spend the day exploring and photographing the north-west edge of the Lake District. And that’s exactly what I did.
Chris knows the Lake District very well, and I was really excited to see where he would take me on our little adventure. I wasn’t looking forward to the 03:45 alarm call though! I’m not one to shy away from an early start, after all, the best light is morning light! (In my opinion anyway.) But this was my first super-early start in quite some time. However, when the alarm sounded, I was out of bed with a spring in my step and excited for a day out with my friend and our cameras.
The first area we visited was the west side of Derwentwater. It’s a stunning location with lots to photograph, from lone trees to classic Lake District jetties, but the scene that caught my eye was a lakeside composition where the light from the rising sun beautifully illuminated the woodland. Sometimes it’s the less obvious shots that work the best.
We then moved on to Tewet Tarn, and again, for me, it was the less obvious composition that I connected with. The long dry-stone wall created a leading line towards Lonscale Fell and Blease Fell, which were topped with stunning cloud cover. Even now, looking at the photograph, I just want to follow that wall and walk up those hills!
For the final location of the day, we headed to Yew Crag and, and while the views down Ullswater were amazing, it was Aira Force that really caught my eye. Though there wasn’t much water flowing, but the beautiful and vibrant spring greens of the trees were striking, framing the waterfall perfectly. It took a few frames to get the shot as other visitors stood on the bridge, but when you’re in such a beautiful location, it’s nice to have an excuse to hang around a little longer.
And that brought us to the end of the day. A day full of adventure, chat, laughs, and photography. Happy days.
Bite-Size Blog Post #73 - The Rumps
Aevening trip to Cornwall and The Rumps was the perfect reminder that, despite my deep connection with Dartmoor National Park, there is still inspiration to be found beyond the tors.
I Need More Cornwall
Over the last few years, I have spent much of my photographic life exploring and capturing images of Dartmoor National Park. It’s my local landscape, and when I decided I needed to get to know it better, I focused virtually all of my photographic energy on capturing images of it. Aside from the odd photography trip outside the national park, I have done little else but photograph tors.
This wasn’t a bad thing for me to do. Having a more intimate knowledge of the environment you want to photograph yields all sorts of benefits, but sometimes you need to poke your head up and see what else is out there.
A few weeks ago, a friend of mine, who I hadn’t seen for over a year, messaged me and asked if I wanted to come to Cornwall to meet him for some chips and head out with the camera. He had me at chips!
As we ate our chips on our favourite bench, we pondered where to go. We soon settled on The Rumps, a location he knows well and one that I’m always keen to revisit. It was too early for thrift to be in bloom, but the coastline was still sure to look beautiful.
And beautiful it looked. The clear skies and gentle movement in the water did nothing to detract from the colours of the landscape, softly illuminated by the setting sun. We only photographed the scene for a short while, as the sun prematurely disappeared behind a band of hazy cloud on the horizon, but my time spent there was enough to remind me that I must spend more time on the Cornish coast this year.
Bite-Size Blog Post #72 - Bowerman's Nose
A trip to Bowerman’s Nose to eat doughnuts with a friend. But what about the photography?
So Close
It wasn’t that long ago that I last photographed Bowerman’s Nose, but as I wrote in that previous blog post, it’s a special location and one that I know I’ll continue to return to. In fact, now that we’re into May, the sun begins to rise from a direction that illuminates a completely different side of Bowerman’s Nose, so I expect there will be another blog post, or perhaps even a video before too long.
This time I was back at Bowerman’s Nose with a different friend. We’d spent the evening exploring around the Haytor area, visiting locations such as the red barn at Emsworthy and Emsworthy Tor itself. After some careful contemplation over a doughnut, we decided that Bowerman’s Nose would be the ideal place to wait for sunrise.
The conditions were looking very promising. Most exciting of all was the sky; heavy, brooding, and full of texture. If there was just enough of a gap near the horizon for the sunlight to slip beneath the cloud, we might be treated to something truly special.
As we waited for the sun to edge closer to the horizon, eating more doughnuts, we watched the sky anxiously. Minute by minute, the gap where the sun might break through became smaller and smaller until it disappeared altogether. We’d come so close to witnessing something remarkable, but in the end it simply wasn’t to be.
Still, we weren’t disappointed. Time spent with friends is never wasted, especially when doughnuts are involved, and a visit to Bowerman’s Nose is always a pleasure.
Bowerman’s Nose, Dartmoor National Park - Nikon Z8 with Nikkor Z 14-30mm f/4 S at 20mm, f/13, 1/5 sec at ISO 64