Category: Landscape Photography

The UK Chronicles Part III: Bamburgh

Posted on Posted in Family Life, Landscape Photography, Northumberland, The UK Chronicles, Travel photography, United KingdomTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 9 Comments

Memories of Bamburgh: A Personal Connection

I’ve been going to Bamborourgh since I was a little boy. Fifty years later, it still affects me in a way that not many places do. Growing up, there was a painting of the castle in my mother’s bathroom, and ever since I learned photography, I’ve wanted to capture my own photo of the place. Patience, my dear boy, patience…

The last time I was there, I was with my wife and daughter. We explored the castle—a gurt big affair that overlooks the coast and the Farne Islands. This time, I was with my son. It’s all about passing on the experiences we’ve had to future generations. To be honest, this whole trip was about creating memories for the children and spending quality time with them. Ever wary of spending too much, we decided to visit just the village and the beach.

Exploring the Beach: A Walk through the Dunes

To get to the beach, you have to go through the dunes, following the paths, because wandering around the dunes willy-nilly is not the done thing—conservation of the local flora and fauna and all that. The castle towers above the beach, giving a sense of protection. By the time we got there, the beach was fairly full of people, dog walkers, and their dogs, all just enjoying the summer. A British, Northumbrian summer, but summer nonetheless.

I don’t know if you know, but I have a gammy knee and arthritis. I’ve also been taking collagen every day, and although it seems to be doing me good, it’s a bit early to see real effects. Killian was very kind, looking after me and making sure I was keeping up. He’s a good man, and it’s nice spending time with him. After walking on the beach for a while and letting me take my pictures, we found a log to sit on before heading back into the village.

A Stroll Back to the Village: Nostalgia and New Discoveries

As we headed back to the car, we came up the side of the castle and walked along the cricket ground. Dogs and their walkers were still out in force, with the owners throwing balls for the aforementioned dogs. All of a sudden, I missed Molly, our dog, and thought how much she would have loved coming with us, but she’s an old girl, and it wouldn’t have been feasible.

I thought about going up to the church to pay my respects to the local heroine, Grace Darling, who was the Lighthouse Keeper’s daughter in the 19th century. During an epic storm in 1838, a ship was wrecked on the Farne Islands, and Grace and her father went out in a rowing boat to pick up the survivors, as it was considered too rough a sea for the Seahouses lifeboat. They saved 9 out of the 62 passengers and had to shelter in the lighthouse for a further 3 days until the storm calmed down.

A Pub Lunch at The Lord Crewe: A Culinary Interlude

I didn’t manage to get that far. Killian, much like myself, has a weakness for pub lunches. And look, a pub! The Lord Crewe! One of those posh pubs that tries to hit above its station… We went straight to the bar and tried to order two pints of Guinness, while letting them know that we wanted to eat too. “Oh, in that case, just go up to the restaurant, and they’ll deal with you…” I was ready to leave the place and go somewhere else, but Killian was hungry, so we didn’t. However, we did enjoy being rude about the two barmen in French.

Killian decided on fish and chips, or “cod fillet with a beer batter”, and I went for the prawn cocktail. As you can see in the picture, even as Frenchmen, we couldn’t fault the presentation of the dishes. The taste was pretty good too! Eating a meal like that just takes you back to a place of joy and nostalgia. It takes you back to a place of calm and reflection. It takes you back to a place where everything is just the way it should be. It almost helped us forget the two barmen. Almost…

A rather delicious and impeccably presented prawn cocktail..

Continuing the Adventure: More Pints and Ice Cream

We paid and left, still joking at the barmen’s expense. We continued up the road and found the other pub. Ah well, another pint of Guinness. We never got to the church, but that was fine, as I already had the photos I wanted. The beach, the castle, and the dog walkers. We headed back towards the car and had that ice cream that we had noticed while walking up to pub number two. What a sound decision. It was very good ice cream and helped us forget the two rude barmen from the other place… Almost…

Capturing Bamburgh: A Photographer’s Reflections

Anyway, back to the car, and back to Lesbury to go and see the girls. I had the photograph I wanted. I wanted the castle, on top of its hill overlooking the beach and the dunes. The other photos were just a bonus. Yes, I went to a place for just one photo, but it was a photo I had been eager to get for some time. The next time I might just have to go at sunset to get the good light…

Photography Insights: Challenges and Techniques

Let’s conclude by talking about the photography from the day. The main technical difficulty was my camera’s metering of the scenes. I had to really expose for my highlights to compensate for the bright sky and the reflection of this light on the sand. I was actually worried about not being able to retrieve the information in the shadows. Luckily, Lightroom was a champion with photo editing and showed itself to be a top-notch app. For me, Bamburgh is all about the castle. It’s about the castle and the sea. It’s about the castle, the sea, the sand, and the dunes. If you can capture all that, then you’re well on your way to getting some pretty good photos.

Also in this series: Preface  ·  Lesbury  ·  Alnmouth  ·  Bamburgh  ·  Alnwick  ·  Rothbury  ·  Hepple  ·  Chesters  ·  Return  ·  B&W Footnote  ·  Summer I  ·  Summer II  ·  Summer III  ·  Summer IV

The UK Chronicles, Part II: Alnmouth

Posted on Posted in Alnmouth, Landscape Photography, Northumberland, The UK Chronicles, Travel photography, United KingdomTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 11 Comments

A Rare Visit to Alnmouth: Making the Most of It

Little did I know this would be my only visit to the beach and village of Alnmouth this year, so I decided to make the most of it. I had my X100F around my neck, as usual. I was up at the crack of dawn, chasing that perfect light once again.

The morning routine was pretty much the same as my first day in Lesbury: early rising, early breakfast, and an early cup of tea. The weather was gorgeous, and the light was amazing. What could go wrong?

Arriving in Alnmouth: The Beauty of Early Morning Light

I hopped in the car and headed to Alnmouth, just a short drive down the road. As I came around the roundabout in Hipsburn, Alnmouth and the River Aln came into view, bathed in golden light. The reflections on the water were breathtaking. It was early enough to find a parking space without any trouble. If you’d like to see more photos of Alnmouth, I can add a link for you.

Exploring Alnmouth: A Village with a Rich History

As the name suggests, Alnmouth is a village at the mouth of the River Aln. It was once a bustling port, playing a significant role in 17th-century Northumbrian trade. I’ll let you read up on that on Wikipedia, and I’ll be here when you’re done.

The village was still asleep as I made my way past the golf club and down to the beach. The only people around were a few dog walkers and me, enjoying the morning’s fresh air. The orange hues in the sky were perfectly reflected on the sand.

Discovering Color in Photography: A Shift in Perspective

For those interested in color theory, the use of complementary colors was striking—blue skies contrasted beautifully with the oranges in both the sky and the sand. I’m on a quest to explore my colorful side. While I still love black-and-white photography, this trip made me eager to embrace color.

My knee wasn’t even hurting; I felt fantastic. Maybe there’s something to be said about the sun’s healing powers. I made my way back to the car, carrying a lump of coal I’d found on the beach. It was too good a find to keep to myself. Surely, Killian would be up by now. Lesbury was only five minutes away. Oh, what the heck? I’ll go wake him up!

Father-Son Bonding: Revisiting Alnmouth Together

Killian was fine getting up and out with me. I only had to bribe him with a sandwich and some chocolate. We went back to Alnmouth together, and I took more pictures of the village. It was a very pleasant father-son bonding moment. He wanted to go to the post office or general store. They didn’t take cash, and for once, I was able to pay with my card for him.

Switching Editing Tools: From Snapseed to Mobile Lightroom

I recently talked about Snapseed and had been using it to edit my photos, but this time, I wasn’t happy with the results. The photos had so much potential, and I didn’t want to waste them. Some friends had recommended Lightroom Mobile, so I decided to give it a try. I already knew my way around Lightroom on the PC, and I felt right at home with the mobile version. It was very intuitive—almost as much as Snapseed. What a pleasant surprise!

So, I went back with Killian and took more pictures of the village. It turned into a wonderful father-son bonding moment. He wanted to visit the post office or the general store, but they didn’t accept cash. Luckily, I could pay with my card for him.

A Missed Opportunity: Scotts of Alnmouth

I was hoping to visit Scotts of Alnmouth, but they were closed. As we walked back to the car, I saw the owners heading to work and was invited to come back when they were open. Unfortunately, I never managed to return to taste their wonderful coffee and cakes. That was the only low point of the holiday. But as that Austrian strongman and actor famously said, “I’ll be back!” It’s good to be home.

Also in this series: Preface  ·  Lesbury  ·  Alnmouth  ·  Bamburgh  ·  Alnwick  ·  Rothbury  ·  Hepple  ·  Chesters  ·  Return  ·  B&W Footnote  ·  Summer I  ·  Summer II  ·  Summer III  ·  Summer IV

The Opening of the Film Archives – Stonehenge August 2016

Posted on Posted in Architecture, Black and White Photography, Family Life, Film Photography, History, Landscape Photography, The Film Archives, Travel photography, United KingdomTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 7 Comments

Stonehenge is something different for most people.  For some it is a historical site in Wiltshire, and despite not being part of the 7 wonders of the ancient world, still remains pretty special.  For some more “alternative” folks, it’s an ancient spiritual centre, and just happens to be on converging energy lines.  For some it’s a day out with the children.

We had come back from a cruise that had taken us around the Canary islands, Lisbon, and Galicia in Spain.  Thank you Mummy, and thank you Daddy!  I think they felt guilty about us always coming up to see them in Northumberland, and wanted us to get a different holiday experience.  Well, different it was!  But that is a totally different story, and the photos can be found in the Olympus Trip 35 article.

So our ship docked at Southampton and we still were in the holiday mood.  I remember as a small boy visiting Stonehenge, and thought it was “the” opportunity to introduce my family to the site.  

It seemed slightly smaller than I remember it.  As do most things if I’m going to be honest with you, but the majesty of the stones remained.  As did the wonder at the fact that these stones had been dragged overland from Wales, and put into place, with the joints still being “rock solid” and down to the nearest millimetre.  I work in a factory that does industrial woodworking and I know what we can do with modern tools and technology and yet here, this massive construction was put together using basic tools.

The children were just taking in the whole experience, and rather bemused at the sight of Japanese tourists being shoved around the site and taking the obligatory selfie.  They also seem quite bemused by the amount of school groups being led around.  

I preferred, as often as I do, to just take my time and take it all in and get some photos of the place.  With the 40 mm zuiko lens I was getting some lovely environmental shots that you can see below.  

My wife, however, was in tears.  Crying her heart out.  She later confided in me telling me how she just felt overcome with emotion.  Maybe those lines of energy for those alternative folks might have something in them…

The UK Chronicles Part I – Lesbury

Posted on Posted in Family Life, Landscape Photography, Northumberland, The UK Chronicles, Travel photography, United Kingdom27 Comments

Introduction: A Journey to the UK

Good evening, Dear Reader.  Welcome to the UK.  I couldn’t not go to the UK without writing about it and taking the odd photo.  I wrote about the anticipation leading up to this trip in the Off to the UK article and talked about the cameras I might take with me in the Olympus Pen EE S review article.

The Road to Lesbury: A Cross-Country Adventure

The drive up from the Vendée up to Calais went surprisingly well.  As we passed through Rouen, we started seeing UK registered cars driving in the same direction.  As we drove up through the north of France, we saw more and more UK cars.  So getting used to UK driving, the closer we got.

We arrived at Calais and respected the bi-national family with our two UK passports and our two French passports, except the guys got their passports stamped and the girls were stampless.  Thank you, Brexit.

First Stop: Dover and the Journey to Lesbury

We spent the night in Dover and started the trip to Lesbury after a breakfast of champions.  I do like a full English breakfast.  We were already looking forward to stopping off for our sandwiches at Peterborough service station.  On a long trip like this, we all have our landmarks.  

The breakfast of champions, and only ever so slightly filling…

The Camera Dilemma: Choosing the Right Gear

The choice of camera was important, as I talked about in the previous articles.  I ended up just taking the X100F, praying that I would be able to get the shots I needed to record everything.

As any Internet user, I read articles and watch YouTube, and let this guide me.  I had read one article about a travel photographer, with the author talking about how he was the Dad travelling with his family and getting up before everyone else to go out to take photos.  I could always have a snooze in the afternoon.  YouTube tried to  convince me to keep things minimal, talking about how the 35mm lens was the best for travel photography on the road.  With the X100F, I have exactly what I was after.

Arriving in Lesbury: Settling In

We arrived at my parents’ house to say hello, go to the loo, and show them that we were still alive and kicking and that despite the odd moment of stress and intensity on the road, we hadn’t killed each other.  We followed my Dad in the car to the rental in the Old Vicarage in the next village of Lesbury.

The house was amazing and felt very luxurious.  My parents had prepared a starter pack with the essentials so we could survive until we did our shopping.  Yorkshire tea was in that pack, so I knew I was home.  We had our first night’s meal with my parents at their house, so I didn’t have to worry about anything.  What a great way to start our holiday.

Early Mornings and First Impressions

I’ll be honest with you.  I didn’t sleep very well and was always awake early.  When I say early, I mean early.  We’re talking about 5am wakeups.  But this was also part of the plan.  Get out early and get the good light.  

My first breakfast in the house was Yorkshire tea, muesli, and fruit.  Start eating healthily and starting the way you mean to go on.  As I looked out of the conservatory, I could see rabbits grazing on the lawn and the robot mowing the lawn.   It was going to be a good day, and I was going to wander around the village taking the first photos of the trip. 

Also in this series: Preface  ·  Lesbury  ·  Alnmouth  ·  Bamburgh  ·  Alnwick  ·  Rothbury  ·  Hepple  ·  Chesters  ·  Return  ·  B&W Footnote  ·  Summer I  ·  Summer II  ·  Summer III  ·  Summer IV

The Opening of the Film Archives—the Hangar à Bananes August 2016

Posted on Posted in Black and White Photography, Café Culture, Film Photography, Landscape Photography, Nantes Photography, The Film ArchivesTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 2 Comments

In my last venture into the film archives, I talked about how there was a time that my daughter hadn’t yet seen me the way I see myself and how she actually still liked me, before turning into a teenager.  This is the second part of that special day.

We had explored the Jardin des Plantes and discovered what they had to offer.  This of course builds up an appetite in a young lady, and convinces her that she really needs to drink something Daddy.  And why couldn’t we go to the Altercafé (now the D3) at the Hangar à Bananes.

So what else was I to do but drive us to the Hangar à Bananes.  You will have seen the Hangar in this article, and you will now be completely up to date and know nearly everything there is to know.

Don’t forget that this is a girl who gets an idea into her head and then just goes through with it.  That idea is so rooted that it is nigh on impossible to change that idea.  I knew what was coming.  I would order a chocolate brownie, and Kate would have an Orangina.  I could have a beer.  How gracious of her.

She had been my model for most of the day and even a top model needs a rest, and just has nothing left to give a photographer.  You just know when enough is enough…

The Opening of the Film Archives – Saint Cado, Belz, Morbihan

Posted on Posted in Black and White Photography, Camera reviews, Film Photography, Landscape Photography, The Film Archives, Travel photographyTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 10 Comments

Welcome back to the film archives, and welcome back to Brittany, that gorgeous corner of France where my in-laws live. I think I might have let it be known that my French family love camping. Yes, they’re so in tents… I’ll just let that joke sink in for a couple of seconds. In 2016 I had begun “collecting” cameras. The photos from this Breton outing in Saint Cado were taken with the Kodak Retinette 1B, a little gem of a camera from the 1960s, and HP5 Plus film.

We’ll start with Saint Cado. It’s one of those picture-perfect postcard places. It’s not easy to take a bad photo of the place. It’s photogenic. It’s quaint. It has all the clichés of a small Brittany island in the Ria d’Etel, which is an inland sea connected to the Atlantic at the Barre d’Etel… I’m thinking lobster pots, oyster beds, black and white houses with slate roofs, a local Saint, a chapel to this local saint, who was actually from Wales of all places, and a miraculous fountain that fills up with every incoming tide. Yes, it’s one of those places… Did I mention that the bridge that links the island to the mainland is a Devil’s bridge? It is said that the devil demanded the soul of the first creature to cross it. The story relates that Saint-Cado, who was a shrewd fellow, put a cat on it! It is just gorgeous!

Let’s talk about the Kodak Retinette 1B. As I said in the introduction, it is a camera from the 1960s that uses zone focusing, and the 1B as opposed to the 1A has a selenium light meter that works a treat. Zone focusing is where you focus by zones. Mind-blowing, right? If I look at my lens, I will see a distance measurement that I will use as a guesstimate. I will move my aperture dial and let’s say I’m at F8, well everything from one F8 to the other F8 will be in focus. A lot of cameras from this period used this system, and it works. If you want to open right up to F2.8, then there are little rangefinders that you can put on the hot shoe mount and there you will be able to get an exact reading for the distance from your subject. Up to you…

Why use a camera that is over 60 years old?  First of all, why not?  It works.  It’s simple to use.  It doesn’t need a battery.  You load your film and Bob’s your Uncle!  Off you go to shoot your 36 exposures.  It also looks pretty damned sexy hanging around your neck too…  It actually looks so sexy that my son nicked mine, and I had to go and get another one.  At the time of purchase I must have paid no more than £15, and even now it will cost you less than £50.  

So there you have it – a charming little island, a vintage camera, and a roll of trusty HP5 Plus. This trip to Saint Cado was a reminder that sometimes, the best photos come from the simplest tools and the most unexpected places. And who knows, maybe those old film cameras aren’t just gathering dust in the attic – they might just be waiting to capture your next adventure. (But if you happen to see my son with a Kodak Retinette slung around his neck, please tell him to bring it back!)

The Opening of the Film Archives – Penthièvres July 2016

Posted on Posted in Black and White Photography, Film Photography, France, Landscape Photography, The Film Archives, Travel photographyTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 10 Comments

I don’t know about you, but I’m really getting into this Film Archive business. It’s great sharing these archives with you all, and it’s certainly bringing back lots of memories to me. Maybe less for you because I haven’t published them here yet. But I know you’ll like them as much as I do.

This particular set of photos was taken on Penthièvres beach, located on the Quiberon Peninsula in the Morbihan. It has a special place in my heart. Not just because I like the sea, but the smell of the sea, and the feel of the sea air on my face. It’s a place I often escape to for a bit of tranquillity especially with the chaotic nature of family visits.

In some respects it’s strange going to the beach to “relax” as it’s something I usually hate.  The idea of the outing to beach with the family and putting towels down, with rocks on each corner of the towel, and having to watch over children going to swim and bathe, making sure they don’t drown because you’ll get shouted at.  The shouting of the children, and worse other people’s children.   Getting sand in between your toes and then getting back to the car and having the impression you’ve brought back the whole beach…

But here it was different.  Boots stayed on.  No screaming children.  Just the wind, the heat of the sun, just being an observer and not having to chat with anyone.  Being able to capture the beach on film.  Pure, solitary bliss.

So, now that you know where we are, let’s look at the camera and film du jour. The film stock that day was the usual Ilford HP5 that I always used at the time, a classic choice for its versatility and ability to capture the subtle nuances of light and shadow. The camera was the Ukrainian made rangefinder, FED 5 manufactured during the Soviet era. Loading the film with this camera is done by unscrewing the base plate, similar to the way one does with a Leica. The focusing with the “ghost” image is spot on and it’s a joy to use. I still love the smell of the leather case too. As in much of my film photography it’s as much about the experience of shooting as the final images.

In the end, Penthièvres became more than just a backdrop for my photographs. It became a sanctuary, a place where I could reconnect with my love for photography and find solace in the beauty of the natural world. These images are a testament to that experience, a reminder of the power of film to capture not just the physical landscape, but the emotions and memories that are woven into every frame.

The Opening of the Film Archives – Carnac, 26/06/2016

Posted on Posted in Black and White Photography, Film Photography, France, History, Landscape Photography, The Film Archives, Travel photographyTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 17 Comments

The photos in this article, from the famous film archive, were taken eight years ago almost to the day, during a weekend visiting my mother-in-law near Carnac, and near where my father-in-law lives. They’re divorced, and as usual, I stayed with her, not him. The photos feature my brother-in-law, who bears a striking resemblance to a beefy Dominic Farrugia, and my niece – not my favourite, but likeable enough (and those who claim not to have favourites are just liars!).

I shot these with my Canon AE1, a camera that saw a lot of action back then. Loaded with Ilford HP5 Plus and developed in Rodinal, they turned out a bit grainier than I expected, even for HP5 at box speed. I blame my overly enthusiastic agitation during development – I’ve always been a bit of a stirrer! Even back then, I had this habit of sneaking off to “do some photography,” a habit that hasn’t changed much, it seems.

Funny thing is, this wasn’t my first time in Carnac. As a kid, plagued by ear infections, flying was out of the question, so we had many a family holiday in France. One such trip was to Carnac, in the Morbihan region. Who would have thought that over 30 years later, I’d be back here so often?

Now, 30 years ago, you could wander freely around those mysterious Carnac stones. My mother, bless her imaginative soul, convinced me they were people caught dancing on the Sabbath and turned to stone as punishment. Ever since, I’ve had a healthy aversion to Sunday line dancing! Sadly, you can’t get close to the stones anymore – they’re cordoned off, perhaps a warning to those Breton folk dancers not to get too carried away.

Back then, HP5 was my go-to film. I wanted to know it inside out. Visiting the stones was a welcome escape from the lively, shall we say, family gatherings. Don’t get me wrong, I love my in-laws, but their intensity can be a bit much for this introvert. The stones, silently standing there, offered a tranquil contrast.

Years later, I watched a film, “The Fablemans,” about Steven Spielberg. The advice at the end, to keep horizons high or low in your images for more interest, struck a chord. Unbeknownst to me, I was already doing this! When I first started out, I meticulously documented every shot in a notebook – aperture, speed, film, camera, the lot. I kept this up for over a year before finally giving it up. These days, all that info is tucked away in your image file’s metadata, but not with film. There’s a certain freedom in that, wouldn’t you agree?

Reflecting on these old photos from Carnac, I am reminded of the enduring allure of photography and the quiet majesty of ancient stones. Each visit to Carnac, captured through the lens of my Canon AE1 and HP5 film, evokes memories of childhood holidays and solitary moments amidst family gatherings. The evolution from meticulous note-taking to embracing the simplicity of film photography has taught me to approach each shot with intention and mindfulness.

In the digital age, where metadata stores the technical details of our images, there remains a certain freedom in the analog process. It encourages a deeper connection with the art form, requiring us to engage fully in the moment of capture. The stones of Carnac stand as timeless witnesses to history, echoing the evolution of photography itself – ever-present, ever-evolving.

As I continue to explore new landscapes and subjects through my lens, I carry with me the lessons learned amidst the stones of Carnac: to capture not just images, but stories; not just moments, but emotions frozen in time. Photography, in its simplest form, remains a profound journey of discovery and expression, rooted in a rich tradition that continues to inspire.

24-70mm Lens: Unveiling the Beauty of Vendée Coastal Landscapes

Posted on Posted in Black and White Photography, France, Landscape Photography, Reportage, Travel photographyTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 4 Comments

Work. That familiar feeling of being a hamster on a never-ending wheel. Emails, passive agressive colleagues, and meetings blurring into one another like the monotonous hum of voices in the office. Sound familiar? Yeah, that was me a few weeks ago. So, what’s a weary soul to do? Employ some sartorial elegance with navy blue chinos, a white button down shirt, my new sungalsses, and my favourite Panama hat, and embark on a spontaneous coastal escape to Vendée!

Now, full disclosure, Vendée isn’t exactly the Caribbean. But for a quick mental recharge, it certainly does the trick. Plus, it was the perfect opportunity to put my Canon 6D Mark II through its paces, specifically the oft-maligned 24-70mm f/4L lens. This trusty workhorse gets a bad rap sometimes, but let me tell you, by the end of this trip, I was a convert.

The Vendée coast is a tapestry of stunning landscapes, each begging to be captured. My first stop was Viellevigne (not strictly the Vendée and just on the other side of the Loire Atlantique border), a charming little town I usually just whiz through on my daily commute. But this time, with a camera in hand and a head full of vacation vibes, I saw it with fresh eyes. I framed the quaint church nestled between two ancient trees, a scene I’d driven past a thousand times without a second glance. The hedgerows, usually just a blur of green, revealed a hidden world of wildflowers and buzzing insects when I switched to the lens’s macro function. Suddenly, the familiar became fascinating.

Next, I cruised down to the grand canal near Fromentine. Now I don’t know if grand means big or grand in this instance. I mean it’s not huge, and the grand canal in Venice is somewhat ore deserving of the title. The sun, a generous giver of both light and good mood, cast a warm glow on the weathered ruins of old houses lining the water. Across the road bridge stood a line of fishing huts, its battered paint a testament to years of battling the elements. The 24-70mm here proved its versatility, letting me capture both the vastness of the canal and the intricate details of the local flora.

As the day wore on, I found myself at Port de Bec, a haven for oyster farmers. Here, the scene was abuzz with activity. Tractors lumbered out of the water, hauling heavy loads of oyster boats ashore. The rickety moorings, weathered and worn, added even more charm. The lens’s sharp autofocus kept pace with the bustling scene, ensuring I didn’t miss a single detail.

Finally, the crown jewel of the trip: the Passage de Gois. This legendary causeway, submerged twice a day by the tide, is a photographer’s playground (just make sure you keep an eye on the water, unlike yours truly who nearly got his sandals swept away!). The tide was rolling in fast, creating a dramatic contrast between the exposed road and the encroaching water. The 24-70mm handled the dynamic light and vastness of the scene beautifully.

But this trip wasn’t just about capturing stunning photos (although, let’s be honest, those were pretty damned cool!). It was a much-needed reminder of the power of stepping off the hamster wheel, even if it’s just for a short while. The fresh air, the sun on my face, the beauty of the Vendée coast – it all conspired to wash away the workaday stress. I came back feeling refreshed, inspired, and with a newfound appreciation for the magic that can be found right on your doorstep, if you just know where to look.

And the 24-70mm? Yeah, it more than held its own. It proved to be a versatile and capable travel companion, capturing everything from sweeping landscapes to macro details. So, next time someone throws shade at this trusty lens, I’ll just point them to my Vendée photo album and let the pictures do the talking.

Until our next adventure my Dear Reader!

A Pilgrimage to Mont Saint Michel: A Journey of Faith and Endurance

Posted on Posted in Architecture, Catholic, France, History, Landscape Photography, Travel photographyTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 2 Comments

The hot summer sun beat down as I embarked on a journey that had been brewing in my mind. Mont St. Michel was not only a quest to escape the sweltering Vendée heat but also a spiritual endeavour to connect with the divine in a magnificent setting.

A Return to Childhood Memories

The journey began at my home in the picturesque Vendée region, where I set out on a 220-kilometer trip to Mont Saint Michel. It was a return to a place I had visited as a wide-eyed boy, eager to explore its mysteries. However, this time, my mission was twofold: to capture the awe-inspiring beauty of this monument through my camera lens and, most importantly, to offer my prayers to the Almighty.

The Road Less Travelled

The road to Mont St. Michel took me through Nantes and Rennes, where I made stops at local bakeries to purchase food for the journey. As I stocked up on provisions, I couldn’t help but reminisce about my first visit to this iconic place some forty years ago. Speaking with my parents, who recalled our family visit, added a nostalgic layer to this pilgrimage.

Physical Challenges and the Power of Will

One of the significant challenges I faced during this pilgrimage was my battle with arthritis, a persistent companion that had become an unwelcome part of my life. Walking with the aid of a cane, I knew that this journey would not be without its pains. However, I had learned a valuable lesson during my time in the Army: the mind can command the body to persevere beyond its perceived limits. Armed with this knowledge, I pressed on, determined to conquer the physical difficulties that lay ahead.

Prayers in Motion

My journey was more than a physical voyage; it was a spiritual quest. Along the way, I offered up my sufferings to God, a testament to my unwavering faith. The act of praying while traversing the miles was a reminder of the power of faith, even in the face of adversity.

A Divine Encounter at Mont St. Michel

Finally, I reached the awe-inspiring Mont St. Michel. Its grandeur and the spiritual aura surrounding it took my breath away. I knew I was in the presence of something sacred. It was here that my pilgrimage took on its most profound meaning.

A Moment of Grace

Before the Blessed Sacrament, I knelt in prayer. As I poured out my heart to the Lord, I couldn’t help but notice the passers-by who seemed oblivious to the divine presence. In that moment, I offered a prayer that God might reveal Himself to them in some way. And then, as if in answer to my prayer, two individuals genuflected before the Blessed Sacrament. It was a poignant reminder that God’s presence is not always apparent, but it is real and powerful. The simple act of acknowledgment by those two individuals filled me with hope and gratitude.

A Pilgrimage Worth Every Step

As the day wore on and I made my way back home, I couldn’t help but feel tired. The physical exertions of navigating the ups and downs of Mont Saint Michel had taken their toll. However, it was a good tired, a sense of accomplishment and fulfilment that can only be gained through a meaningful journey.

Looking Ahead

Reflecting on my pilgrimage, I realize that while the physical challenges were significant, they were far outweighed by the spiritual rewards. My journey was a testament to the power of faith and the determination of the human spirit. If I were to undertake this pilgrimage again, I would not go alone. Having someone to share the driving and the walks would undoubtedly make the journey more manageable. In the end, my pilgrimage to Mont Saint Michel left a lasting mark on me. It was a journey of faith, endurance, and prayer, a testament to the power of the human spirit and the divine presence that guides our paths.

Bretagne – a story of sea and stones

Posted on Posted in France, History, Landscape Photography, Travel photographyTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 4 Comments

It has been a quiet week in Saint Hilaire… But it was a pleasant weekend in Brittany.  Some may accuse the Bretons of being way too preoccupied with being Bretons, similar to the Cornish in Cornwall, or the Welsh in Wales, when they can manage to forget about getting cuddly with sheep.  In that previous paragraph, I just irritated 6.9 million people.  That’s not bad for a single paragraph.

Say what you will about the Breton people, they do do a great line in standing stones, or standing lines of standing stones, especially near Carnac.  This gets me topq where my in-laws live, which is not far from Carnac.  It was the first afternoon of our stay, and I didn’t want to irritate my mother-in-law by just existing, breathing, and so on.  I seized the chance to go out with my camera and shoot some photos.  It’s one of the reasons I look forward to these visits.  It’s truly about getting away from everything and simply soaking in the scenery.

These stones have been standing for around 7000 years, so they must be getting exhausted.  Some have just given up on life and collapsed, or have they had too many parties and consumed too much alcohol?  Anyway, when I was travelling around the grounds of these lines of standing stones, or stones standing in lines, I observed a lady with dowsing rods sitting on one of the stones.  There’s nowt as funny as folk, as my father once stated…  Then the first lady’s companion came up and tried to hug the rocks.  Now, I’ve seen some unusual things in my life, as has the majority of Hull’s population, since it’s never dull in ‘Ull.

But this not only took the biscuit, but it almost took the tea as well!  They said that the Druids had placed the stones there to make the soil more fertile, and that each stone had its unique set of qualities.  I tried not to laugh as I thought about how fertile their imagination was.  After all, they were completely serious.  I know nothing about old stones, whether standing or not, but I patiently listened to them.

I explained how we had once been to Stonehenge and how there was something about the place that was less than ordinary, and how we had seen people kissing the ground and having moments.  They told me that of course this was because of the energy.  You must ask the stone for permission to use its qualities first then sit on it.  And were I to do this I would feel something.  The only thing I felt was a sore bottom!

Wait a minute! He mentioned the Sea, not simply stones. We want to see the marine pics!!! If you’re good and well behaved I might include them in an upcoming post. I can assure you that they are ready. I’ll be highlighting Ettel’s Boat Cemetery. Be patient already!

Clisson

Posted on Posted in Architecture, Café Culture, France, History, Landscape Photography, Street Photography, Travel photographyTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 3 Comments

Have you ever come across the articles named “The 10 Prettiest Villages in France,” “The 10 Prettiest Villages in Yorkshire,” “The 10 Prettiest Villages in Northumberland,” or “Some Other Dream Spot in This Beautiful World?”  No? The one closest to us, is about 15 kilometres away and not in the south of France, which I believe to be completely overrated. Like most contenders for this type of little town, there is a bustling market every Friday morning (which is actually pretty wonderful, if not a touch on the pricier side), a park that hugs the river and lets you unwind while taking in the gentle sound of the water.  A castle stands watch over the entire town.  Meandering streets wonder up and down hills as do the locals.  It is in wine producing country surrounded by vineyards who would be more than happy to flog you some wine…

Yes, it is one of “those” places, Dear Reader, but it is still beautiful. Clisson is also aware of this. Of course, I’m simply jealous because I don’t live there but wish I did.

In this series of photographs, I also chose to maintain the film-like appearance of my digital photography. It appears that summer is rapidly approaching. The days are already warmer and sunnier, but are not yet unbearably hot. And such weather is simply God’s way of encouraging you to go have a refreshing pint!