UK travel guide – IJM Photography

Thank you for following this series of UK Chronicles, and I would just like to say that this is the last one. It had been a long day, but a good day, despite the disappointment in Otterburn. You overcome and adapt. Killian was still sad not to have some Roman armour though.

So, despite not rocking the Roman look, we still had to get back to Lesbury because that evening we would be eating with my parents in a pub in Boulmer, which was just down the road from Lesbury and on the coast. Boulmer is one of those little fishing villages that still has a small fleet of fishing boats that would have caught the fish and chips that we would be eating that night.

To get back home, I could take the more direct route, or I could go via the scenic route. Luckily for you, Dear Reader, we had enough time to take the scenic route. My driving was leisurely, or even slow, as we meandered through the bendy country roads. Again, just taking in the rural views and loving every minute of it. We wanted to go back to Rothbury to get another of those yummy sandwiches in the breadcakes that you only seem to be able to get in the UK.

We found the same parking spot as we did that very morning and crossed the road to go back to that morning’s bakery. It had just shut! Please don’t worry for us though; our lives still had some meaning. We visited the ironmongers that hadn’t yet opened that morning. It was one of those places that had everything that one could need, from bird feeders to butter dishes. Killian decided that I needed a new walking stick. He had seen me leaning with my old one, which, in his mind, was too small for me. I think he really had his eye on a shepherd’s crook, but we settled on a nice wooden walking stick that is just a tiny bit taller than my French ones, and it’s propped up against my desk as I write—a little reminder of home.

Killian suggested we walk to a particular shop and then return, now with my new walking stick in hand. Leisurely was definitely the word of the day and summed up our attitude to it so well. We strolled down to the RSPCA charity shop. I thought I might just be able to get Killian a jacket to help smarten him up a bit, but failed. Ah well. We walked past the toy shop, which you could tell was for rural folk. The amount of toy tractors and all the farming machinery was awe-inspiring. Somebody somewhere had obviously been frustrated as a child…

We passed the Queen’s Head pub, and surprise surprise, we went in. I ordered the drinks and the crisps, made sure Killian had a place to sit, and went to the loo. The bar was full of locals, I presume farmers, judging by the size and musculature of the men. It would appear that their Friday evening sesh was just beginning. There was a couple of walkers with their dog, and a water bowl had been provided, and the dog was enjoying some of the treats from the complimentary dog treat jar. While some find the Northumbrian accent incomprehensible, to me, it’s music to my ears. I get every word of it. Killian, although fully bilingual in English, was struggling, praying that nobody would come up to him and try talking to him. Poor lad. And that was despite a pint of creamy, silky John Smith’s Bitter!

We left Rothbury behind us, feeling as if all were good in this world. Leisurely and peaceful, which felt amazing. We would head back towards Alnwick and have another look at the scenery in a new light compared with that morning. I have taken this route a few times and in the valley have always noticed a castle, and this time I thought, you know what? I’m going to have a look at that place. We saw the sign to the village of Edlingham and its 14th-century castle and turned left. You park just in front of the church, and you can go and see the ruins. We went into the church and saw somebody taking photographs with an old film camera. This guy had a vintage Nikon, and it looked beautiful. As photographers will do, we started talking shop. We talked about the films we used and how my X100F, although not a film camera, was the nearest thing I had found to a film camera in its feel and use. The photographer mentioned that the castle ruins were propped up with large iron beams, which seemed to detract from their historical charm. So, we decided to skip the visit. We parted ways and left the church after having managed to capture a couple of photos. Killian came running back in to ask the guy if he had a Nissan. He did. Well, in that case, it was his car that had just smashed into the church gate. Killian lifted the damaged gate to put it against the wall, and the driver was convinced that he had put his handbrake on. The gentleman called the number on the church notice board to try and tell the vicar about what had happened, but there was no answer. We never did find out if the driver managed to reach the vicar, but it was an unexpected end to our day of exploration.

Do you have a place, be it real or imaginary, that just haunts your mind? You think of it, and you are transported there instantly. The smells of the grass, the sounds of the river, and the odd car driving past you wondering what the heck you are doing? Hepple is my special place. It is a place where I feel at peace and that all is right with the world.

I’m thinking back to an article I wrote a couple of years ago called Hepple for Photos, Not Gin. I was with my father and had my Canon 6D Mark II with the 16-35mm F4.0 lens and the 70-300mm zoom lens. This year, however, I had my X100F with just the 35mm f2.0 equivalent lens, and I was with Killian, who, surprisingly, was a little tired and decided to curl up on the back seat for a snooze. His loss…

This is the place, this stretch of road, that I have been looking forward to for 2 years. The weather was clement, and I can assure you that the place is still as beautiful as ever. I wasn’t going to have the choice of lenses this time; I would have to see the scene in 35mm and make do with it. No zooming, no switching lenses—just a little constraint. And you know what? I was fine with that!

The lack of zooming and my sleeping son allowed me to walk around the area a little more, exploring under the tree at the end of the road and at the bottom of the hill. These were views that I had not seen before. It only goes to show that we might think we know a place, even in our memories, but it still has so much more to offer us.

I parked just before the bridge, as I usually do. Everything was still in place: the stiles, the trees, the river—just as I had pictured it in my mind. It’s when looking at the countryside like this that I am convinced there is a creator behind all this creation. The beauty of it didn’t just happen by chance.

The noises were made by the flowing of the river and the breeze in the trees. I had this feeling of calm. I could take photos of that place every day and not get tired of it all. I might even go so far as to say I could have died here and died a happy death. I had found my peace.

Killian had found his peace too and was still asleep in the car. A micro sieste, he said. He might be 25, but he reminded me of the small boy who was once my son.

I can’t be the only person on this earth to feel this?