Just a few images for you to look through, to see what you take from them.
Just some things I found interesting, hope all is well with you in your part of the world.
A week up in the North of England, an evening stroll and a camera. Just a few shots from this set, all the time I have to get them ready. Tomorrow I head home, always a good direction to head in. At the end of this post, as it’s National Poetry Day, I have a short piece for you to read, let me know what you think.
It is always amazing how much things can change over a few minutes from oranges to blues and deepening into grey and black.
For National Poetry Day.
Being displaced, different,
I am North, an unknown.
I am a stranger.
Every word is a dislocation,
I am not of here,
of hills and dark walls,
of strange names.
Each night I sleep, wait
for the sun,
wait for my shadow to fall
behind me. To wait for one day.
and I am home.
Early on a Thursday morning I met with another photographer friend near Stroud for an early morning sunrise shoot on Crawley Hill. This is his neck of the woods so he chose the locations and led me round the places to see. I think it was a success, but that’s down to you the viewers really to decide, let me know what you think.
The hill itself is an old hill fort, and walking around the summit you can see why it was chosen, with great views all around, I can imagine in its day, with the trees cleared and possibly a wooden palisade surrounding it, it would be very imposing.
From the high view here we dropped down to the canalside, the quintessential English view as we strolled along after breakfast, thanks Keith :-). That’s where we’ll go next on our trip, so keep watching. And remember to enjoy the sights as the season turns to Autumn and the days shorten towards winter, my favourite time of year.
Finally got out for a weekend walk so I teamed up with my old friend Pete to head into the Cambrian Mountains. This is the first time in this area and it was pleasantly quiet, wild with overused paths hard to find. The weather forecast was for two clear days, but true to form Saturday didn’t turn out quite as expected. We started out as the morning showers condensed into a 3 hour steady rain. That’s hills for you, once it cleared it was fine, and we were already on our way so things would have needed to get much worse to turn us back.
Walking into the valley to find this lonely remnant, people for years farmed this land. Families grew and faded as life changed for everyone, and these small outposts lost their viability in the modern world.
I like to sleep out like this, listening to the sounds of the land around. The river running by and the wind in the trees, There was still a bit of cloud about, but we had some good views of the Milky Way and a single meteor crossing the sky. We set up camp, ate food and chatted till the sun went down, then settled in for the night. Another day in the mountains to follow.
After crossing the river (always fun) we headed up the slope, getting the benefit of opening views and the rising sun.
Given the views, North, South, East to the sea and West to England, it is a pleasant surprise to find it so quiet out there. A place we shall return to soon, to see if we can keep this wild space quiet. Until next time, get out and enjoy yourself.
A visit to Dartmoor and a chance to take my time, revisiting some past spaces in better weather. Dartmoor is a place I love to visit. Quiet open places, rivers, old places that have no context except the meanings we read into them ourselves, the ideas they strike in our own minds.
Work from my trip to Dartmoor.
Going back to old words, older than any I have spoken,
old enough to have never been written.
Lines and circles, single statements
marking the landscape that has become
devoid of the trees that made it what it was.
Bridges, across water, across ideas of places
and leading to other words left behind
of such density we can’t carry them
with us in our pocket as we do now.
Words so important we set them in stone.