Tag: travel photography tips

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.

The UK Chronicles, Part II: Alnmouth

Posted on Posted in Alnmouth, Landscape Photography, Northumberland, The UK Chronicles, Travel photography, United KingdomTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 10 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.

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 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.

Exploring Nantes: A Photographer’s Perspective

Posted on Posted in Architecture, Black and White Photography, France, Nantes Photography, Street PhotographyTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 7 Comments

In the hushed confines of my study, where the scent of bookst mingles with the comforting aroma of steeping tea, I find myself transported to distant realms of discovery. With my faithful canine companion at my feet and a mischievous feline observer perched high atop a pile of unironed laundry (I must get that sorted out), I embark on a journey not only through the winding lanes of Nantes but through the corridors of time itself.

Nantes, with its labyrinthine streets steeped in centuries of history, beckons with the allure of bygone eras and whispers tales of yore to those who listen with open hearts and discerning eyes. As a photographer of a somewhat vintage disposition, I am drawn not only to the grandeur of its architectural marvels but to the quiet corners and hidden alcoves where the soul of the city reveals itself in subtle nuances and fleeting moments.

My approach to photography, much like my approach to life, is one steeped in reverence for the past and a keen appreciation for the present. Armed with my camera and a discerning eye for detail, I set out to capture the essence of Nantes not merely as a series of picturesque scenes but as a living, breathing tapestry of human experience.

In my wanderings through the cobbled streets of the old town, I am enraptured by the timeless beauty of the Château des Ducs de Bretagne, its imposing walls bearing witness to centuries of tumultuous history. Yet it is in the quiet courtyards and shadowed alcoves of this ancient fortress that the true spirit of Nantes reveals itself, echoing with the whispers of generations long past.

  • Chateau de Ducs de Bretagne, or Nantes Castle
    Chateau de Ducs de Bretagne, or Nantes Castle

As I meander through the bustling markets and labyrinthine alleyways, I am captivated by the vibrant tapestry of colors and textures that adorn the cityscape, each tableau a testament to the creativity and resilience of its inhabitants. From the fragrant stalls of the Marché de Talensac to the bohemian charm of the Île de Nantes, every corner of the city offers a glimpse into the rich tapestry of Nantais life.

But it is perhaps in the quiet moments of reflection, amidst the tranquil banks of the Loire River or beneath the leafy boughs of the Jardin des Plantes, that the true magic of Nantes reveals itself. Here, far from the hustle and bustle of the city streets, I find solace in the simple beauty of nature and the timeless rhythm of the river, a reminder that amidst the chaos of modern life, there are still moments of peace and serenity to be found.

In my pursuit of the perfect photograph, I am guided not only by technical skill and artistic vision but by a profound sense of reverence for the world around me. Each click of the shutter is not merely an attempt to capture a fleeting moment in time but a homage to the beauty and wonder of the world we inhabit.

As the sun sets over the horizon and the last rays of light dance upon the waters of the Loire, I find myself filled with a sense of gratitude for the privilege of bearing witness to the timeless beauty of Nantes. In its winding streets and hidden corners, I have discovered not only the essence of a city but the essence of life itself—a tapestry of moments, both fleeting and eternal, woven together in the fabric of time.

As the golden hues of sunset paint the Loire River, my camera lens captures one last fleeting moment of this captivating city. Nantes has unveiled its charm, whispering stories through its cobblestones and revealing its soul in hidden corners. While my journey ends here, yours can begin. Pick up your camera, wander the winding streets, and discover the magic of Nantes waiting to be captured, frame by frame. You might just find yourself transported, too.