The forecast looked like a dead cert for Monday morning, so I set the alarm for 4.10am. My back feels almost back to normal now, so I took my preferred method of transport up to the park: my trusty bicycle.
The decision to go to the brook had been decided the previous day.
I hadn't taken any photographs there since April, and enough time had passed for the trees and banks to look significantly different from my last visit. Conveniently, it involves a slightly later alarm than if I were heading to any other location, and any extra sleep is a bonus at this time of the year.
When I arrived, there was plenty of mist. There was also a fair amount of quite interesting cloud, and half of me wondered if I should have chosen to do a sunrise instead. However, it was too late to reverse the decision, and the brook was looking rather lovely.
I hopped into the water - everything looked very moody in the half light.
As I set up my tripod for this composition above, and fiddled with the camera settings, I felt an unexpected sensation in my left welly. Sharp and cold, it was slowly spreading... My welly had sprung a leak!
I decided to ignore it. There was not much else to be done, as my sock was already wet, and would remain so until I got back home.
Perhaps this image is a little dark and brooding for my usual style, but I really like the shadowy river banks and trees, and contrasting subtle pink light in the sky.
I wandered a bit further down, to a location that I've shot a few times in all sorts of seasons and weather. The clouds were amazing, so I went for a much wider composition to include them in the image.
There was already much more light! Sadly time doesn't stand still when the conditions are this good.
I quickly grabbed a much more cropped version of the same scene (below), although I much prefer the wider version with the amazing clouds.
I've photographed these willows in the composition below loads of times before, but I've never photographed them in this direction while standing in the water. Why has it never occurred to me to try this before now? An oversight that could be attributed to early morning brain fog perhaps? The view was certainly very nice from here.
The sun was now above the horizon, but shrouded by a small cloud bank. It was delaying the inevitable arrival of harsh light, and vanishing of the mist for a while longer. I stayed in this same spot, taking exposures of the composition below, until the light was too strong.
The sun was now up, but in and out of the clouds. The conditions were still quite atmospheric. I went back to where I'd locked my bike, with the idea that I would find some deer, and take some more photos.
Cycling in the direction of the gate, I could see three men standing in the middle of the road. One of them was gesticulating to the other two. An argument? It was 5.40 in the morning, and there was no one else around. UGH! I hate encountering strange people in the park, not that it happens very often. It's nearly always in summer months when the weather is mild, and people are still out from the night before. And it's always at an hour when there are no 'normal' people around. I cycled closer. Had I been on foot, I could have easily avoided them completely, by hopping onto a smaller path, and dissolving into the mist. I'm hoping that I'm wearing a facial expression that says 'I'm not remotely intimidated by you!' combined with 'what the hell are you doing disturbing the peace and tranquillity of a beautiful wildlife park?!'. Taking a line straight through the 2 opposing sides, which was the only way to pass, one of the pair is now filming the third man, who is starting to walk off in an apparent strop. I am now an unwitting star in some dodgy blokes phone footage of what ever is taking place. FFS! I ride by without incident, but the idea of hanging around in the vicinity of these people is not enticing, so I abandon the idea of photographing the deer, and head straight to the gate, and the direction of home.
I can be found on...
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/cathgothard/
Website: www.cathgothard.com