When I first photographed Birch Tor earlier this year, I was sure it was going to make a great location during heather season. It’s in an area that is well known for heather, with locations such as Hookney Tor and Grimspound being firm favourites of mine.

Returning for the first time during this year’s heather season, I was disappointed to find there was very little heather around the tor. It’s not that there isn’t any in the surrounding landscape, but there simply isn’t enough close to the tor to make for an interesting composition.

I put this down to the lack of rain and an unusually long spell of hot summer weather, which has left the ground looking parched and distinctly unphotogenic. Returning one evening, during what should be the peak of heather season, I again found the landscape looking bare and dry.

It’s not just the lack of heather. The absence of the lushness I would normally expect at this time of year takes something away from the experience of photographing this wonderful tor.

But I don’t want to end on a gloomy note. Despite the challenging appearance of the landscape, spending a summer evening on Dartmoor is a pleasure and never a waste of time. There is always something to see, even when the conditions aren’t quite what I had hoped for.

In fact, this visit has only reinforced my feeling that Birch Tor has more to give. It might not be heather this year, but I’m already looking forward to seeing how the landscape transforms when autumn arrives.

If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you’ll know that I often talk about the thrill of seeing a gap in an otherwise cloudy sky, especially around the horizon just as the sun is rising.

There is always a sense of anticipation. Not knowing for 100% certain that the sun will actually pass through that gap is all part of the fun. Sometimes it does, but more often it doesn’t. You think you’ve found the perfect opening, only for it to move, disappear or turn out to be nothing more than a layer of distant cloud. It’s all part of the fun of landscape photography.

Returning to Honeybag Tor to capture more photographs of the heather, I was presented with the smallest of gaps. All around me was heavy cloud and it was raining lightly, but I was pretty confident I would see the sun.

I’d checked PhotoPills to verify the exact position where the sun would rise using its AR mode. The gap appeared to be clear sky, and there was already a strong orange glow beginning to develop.

My personal photography style is to use side lighting, but I had a strong feeling that the sky was going to be the star of the show this morning. So I pointed my camera straight at the gap and waited.

Normally, the glow from the rising sun only illuminates the underside of the clouds as it approaches the horizon. But thanks to the rain and the position of the cloud, the glow continued to build as the sun broke the horizon.

It was a glorious sight, and yet another reminder of why I get up early in the morning to photograph sunrise. You see things that few other people get to witness. It really is a special time of day.

I’ve already photographed Honeybag Tor a few times during this heather season, but I see no reason to stop going back. As long as there is heather on the ground and soft light from the rising sun, I’ll be there with my camera and a massive smile on my face.

The landscape photography blog you’re reading now, The Exposed Blog, will celebrate its 10th birthday next month. With nearly 500 blog posts published, it has been a regular part of my photography journey and one of the main ways I share my work.

This milestone has got me thinking about the last decade and the locations that have come to mean something to me. One of those places is Emsworthy Tor, and not simply because it is such a photogenic location.

Back in 2018, I decided to have a logo commissioned to represent my landscape photography. I didn’t want the usual lens aperture graphic or something that simply represented a camera. I wanted something that represented me and my photography.

The designer, who knew my work, picked up on my love of photographing Emsworthy Tor and based the logo around it. I couldn’t have been happier with the result.

When I found myself in the Haytor area this week, I decided it was time to give this old favourite a visit. Although I’ve walked past Emsworthy Tor many times over the years, I hadn’t photographed it for quite some time.

Unfortunately, the tree that is such a significant part of this location has been damaged and no longer has the distinctive shape that made it so appealing to photograph. It’s a real shame that it doesn’t look quite as good as it once did.

But in the right conditions, Emsworthy Tor is still well worth photographing. Especially on a lovely summer evening, with cloud in the sky, warm light from the setting sun, and the greens, yellows and purples of the Dartmoor landscape all coming together.

It might be a while before I return again, but Emsworthy Tor is a location that will always remain close to my heart.

Yesterday I wrote about photographing Honeybag Tor on a sunny, clear blue sky day. The photographs were bright and colourful, but perhaps lacked a little impact. They lacked the drama that I so often seek in my Dartmoor photographs.

The following morning couldn’t have been more different.

The forecast had predicted some cloud cover, but arriving at Honeybag Tor again, I was slightly dismayed to find that the sky was completely covered. I know, just yesterday I was complaining about blue skies and now I’m complaining about too much cloud. What can I say? I’m difficult to please!

That said, there was a small slither of a gap near the horizon, so there was a chance I might get a little light on the landscape if the sun passed through it. And indeed it did, but unfortunately the gap wasn’t clear sky. It was simply a layer of hazy cloud further away. I could see the sun, but it wasn’t casting any light on the landscape, which remained firmly in flat light.

I spent some time staring at the sky, hoping the conditions would change, but I was reasonably sure they weren’t going to. So I started walking back to the car.

I hadn’t got far when I noticed another, much clearer gap appearing in the cloud. There was a possibility that the sun might find a way through it, but I wasn’t sure. So I waited.

And waited.

Sure enough, my patience was rewarded and I found myself walking very quickly back up to my viewpoint to capture some photographs.

The scene had been completely transformed.

Yes, there was still plenty of cloud, but thanks to the glow from the sun, it had become another character in my scene rather than something that was simply getting in the way. The light was illuminating the ground perfectly, catching the clump of heather that I had deliberately positioned in my frame.

It was magical.

No sooner had the light arrived, it was gone again. But what a morning of ups and downs!

And it’s those ups and downs that make landscape photography so exciting. You can spend an hour watching a scene unfold, wondering whether anything is going to happen, only for everything to suddenly come together for a frame or two.

Even after all these years, the experience of seeing the landscape come alive in front of me will never become boring.

It’s those moments I cherish.

There is a recurring theme with my landscape photography this summer, and that is clear blue skies. As most landscape photographers will tell you, there are few worse types of sky than a completely clear blue one! But as I said in a recent blog post, “when life gives you lemons, make lemonade”, so I’m learning to embrace the blue skies.

And embrace them I did when I visited Honeybag Tor the other evening in search of heather. I had been becoming increasingly concerned that the long, dry summer might have affected the heather this year, but it appears that Honeybag Tor still has its fair share of photogenic clumps.

The long dry weather has brought some unexpected benefits, though. The yellow, sun kissed colour of the grass can be quite striking, while the bracken is taking on shades of green and gold. Mixed with the purple of the heather and the yellow of the gorse, these colours can create some wonderfully bold and colourful compositions.

A little rain would certainly help those colours pop, though!

But I didn’t have rain, or clouds, so my time out with the camera would have to be more exploratory. Not every trip out with the camera has to result in an amazing photograph. Sometimes, it’s simply about exploring an area, reacquainting myself with familiar compositions and looking for new possibilities.

In fact, I often find that these exploratory sessions can be some of the most valuable trips I make with the camera. They give me the opportunity to work out where I want to be, what compositions might work and, perhaps most importantly, what I want to do when the conditions eventually come together.

These photographs might be a little clichéd, but that doesn’t really matter. I now know that when the clouds finally return, the light is right and the conditions are more favourable, I’ll know exactly where I want to be and what I want to photograph.

Now, if only someone could arrange for those clouds to make an appearance!

The long dry period that has accompanied this summer is showing no signs of abating. Clear skies and a parched landscape are becoming something I’m getting used to. Summer is a period that sends some landscape photographers into hibernation as they wait for autumn to arrive, but for me, it’s an exciting time, full of opportunities.

One of those opportunities is to practise the craft of black and white photography. This style of landscape photography can work particularly well with the clearer skies and dry landscape, allowing me to concentrate on shapes, textures and contrast rather than colour.

Black Tor is a location I haven’t photographed since visiting a few years ago while filming my Discovering Dartmoor video series. It’s been on my list of places to return to ever since, but you know how it is. Life just gets in the way sometimes!

I was sitting in my studio looking at my locations map, trying to think of somewhere fresh to visit, and despite Black Tor being on the opposite side of Dartmoor from where I live, I decided to make the long journey to this somewhat diminutive tor.

There aren’t necessarily any obvious compositions at Black Tor, particularly with the prominent Princetown mast sitting in the background. But after moving the tripod around, up and down, left and right, I soon found myself looking at a composition that started to work.

Using my Nikon Z8’s Deep Tone Monochrome picture profile, I could visualise on the camera what the finished image might look like. The texture of the tor is striking and colour of the grass really stand out, helped by just how dry the landscape has become.

The photographs are somewhat experimental, but I really enjoyed capturing them. And isn’t that the primary point of photography? To enjoy the experience, experiment a little and perhaps come away with something different from what you originally had in mind?

Let me know what you think in the comments below.

All images captured with Nikon Z8 and Nikkor Z 14-30mm f/4 S, ISO with Kase Revolution CPL.

I’m sure most of you are familiar with the saying, “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” It’s a phrase that encourages you to turn something negative into something positive. It’s a phrase that could be applied to almost every trip out with the camera, because it’s very rare that you’ll get perfect conditions. Of course, that ignores the question of whether there is such a thing as perfect conditions in the first place, but perhaps that’s a conversation for another day.

The reason I bring up this popular saying is that it very neatly applies to my most recent trip to Dawlish Warren beach. It’s a beach I love and have photographed more times than I can remember. It’s a special place, and it keeps pulling me back.

On the morning of my most recent visit, I had a glorious sunrise in my mind’s eye. I was imagining reflected light on the water, the undersides of the clouds catching the first light, and perhaps a little glow on the groynes. I’ve seen these conditions before, and it can be very special when everything comes together.

However, what I had imagined was very different from reality.

Arriving at Dawlish Warren, I found the beach cloaked in fog. Or perhaps sea mist. I’m not entirely sure where the difference in definitions lies! Everything looked rather flat and grey. This wasn’t what I had come for, but I needed to find something in my creative toolbox that would allow me to make the most of the conditions.

I’d been given lemons, and I was definitely going to make lemonade!

The key to getting a compelling photograph was to simplify the scene as much as I could. There was no colour to speak of, very little movement in the water, and the sky was blending into the sea at the horizon. For me, the creative solution was to remove what little colour there was and work in black and white, combined with a long exposure.

With the groyne being the only really definable object in the scene, I thought it could make for a striking composition. The simplicity of the scene actually became its strength. Rather than trying to capture everything in front of me, I could concentrate on that single structure and the atmosphere surrounding it.

So, was my lemonade tasty?

Well, I think it was. But I’d be interested to know what you think, so please leave me a comment below.

Late July, through August and into September are some of my favourite times for photography on Dartmoor. It’s heather season, and as summer progresses, the landscape gradually starts to turn purple. I find it gives me a whole new level of motivation to get out early in the morning.

But this summer is different.

Why? Well, unusually for the South West of the UK, it hasn’t rained. For weeks. In fact, I can’t remember the last time we had any proper rain. Of course, we can have long periods of good weather here and I’m more than happy to enjoy all the benefits that brings. But those periods are almost always interrupted by a few days of rubbish weather and a bit of rain.

This year has been very different.

It’s so dry on Dartmoor at the moment that the government has even issued emergency warnings, including restrictions on things such as portable BBQs. The ground is parched, the grass has turned yellow and the landscape is starting to look very different from the Dartmoor I’m used to seeing at this time of year.

So, will the dry weather affect the heather?

It isn’t a simple question to answer. Dry weather doesn’t necessarily mean there will be no heather, and there are plenty of other factors that influence how it develops and when it flowers.

I was thinking about all of this when I visited Birch Tor recently. I had been hoping to find the first real signs of the purple landscape I associate with this time of year, but I was disappointed to find very little heather in flower.

There could be several reasons for this. Perhaps I was simply too early and the heather on this particular part of the moor hadn’t reached its peak. Perhaps the exceptionally dry conditions have affected its growth. Or perhaps Birch Tor simply doesn’t produce the same spectacular display as its nearby neighbour, Grimspound.

Whatever the reason, I’m not going to write Birch Tor off just yet.

This is only the beginning of the heather season for me, and while I wasn’t able to capture the photographs I had hoped for on this visit, I’ll be returning. One of the things I love about photographing Dartmoor is how dramatically a familiar location can change over the course of just a few weeks.

And, even without the heather, the photographs I captured on this visit have given me plenty of motivation to return again very soon.

So stay tuned. There’s still plenty of heather season to come.

Light is one of the most important elements in landscape photography. The quality of that light can make or break a photograph, and for me the very best conditions are often found during the hour around sunrise and sunset, commonly known as the golden hours.

During late spring and summer, photographing sunrise in the UK certainly isn't for the faint hearted. With the sun rising as early as 5am, the alarm often goes off around 3.30am, leaving just enough time to get ready, drive to the location and be in position before the first light appears above the horizon.

I have to admit though, I rather enjoy those early starts. There is something special about being on Dartmoor before the rest of the world has woken up. The anticipation builds as the eastern sky begins to glow, knowing that in a matter of minutes the landscape will be transformed by the first rays of sunlight.

That said, getting out of bed that early only feels worthwhile if I know the conditions are going to work. You might be treated to the most spectacular sunrise imaginable, but if the surrounding landscape prevents the light from reaching your composition, you've missed the very moment you came to photograph.

Bowerman's Nose is a perfect example of this.

The classic view of this distinctive tor only receives the soft light of sunrise for a relatively short period of the year. Although the hill behind it doesn't look particularly significant, it has a huge influence on how the morning light reaches the landscape. For much of the year, the sun rises behind that hill, meaning the light doesn't reach the tor until it is much higher in the sky and considerably harsher. During late spring and summer however, the angle of the sunrise changes just enough for the first light to illuminate the rocks beautifully.

Knowing when that happens isn't something you can learn from a map alone. I use planning tools to understand where the sun will rise, but they are only part of the process. Years spent exploring Dartmoor have taught me how the shape of the land influences the light, and that experience is just as valuable as any app.

In this video I capture Bowerman's Nose at sunrise while explaining the decisions behind the photograph. I'll show you why this composition only works at certain times of year, how the surrounding landscape affects the light, and why learning to read the landscape is one of the most valuable skills any landscape photographer can develop.

This video forms part of my Learning Landscape Photography on Dartmoor series, where I share the knowledge and experience I've gained from many years of photographing this remarkable landscape. If you'd like to continue learning, do take a look at the rest of the series. There is much more still to come.

Most landscape photographers appreciate the quality of light at sunrise and sunset. On Dartmoor, the soft light from a low sun can transform a familiar scene into something truly special. Reaching some of Dartmoor's more remote locations at the right time, however, can require a lot of effort. With some tors involving a walk of 90 minutes or more, much of the journey is often completed in darkness.

 My solution to this, particularly during the spring and summer months, is to incorporate wild camping into my landscape photography. With sunset as late as 9:30pm and sunrise as early as 5:00am, it makes sense to camp close to remote locations such as Wild Tor. Rather than spending hours walking to and from the location, I can spend more time enjoying the landscape and making the most of the changing light.

In this video I share my experience of wild camping at Wild Tor, one of Dartmoor's most remote locations. I explain why wild camping has become such an important part of my approach to landscape photography and the benefits it brings. I'll also take you through the camping equipment and camera gear that I carry on these backpacking adventures.

 For me, wild camping is about far more than simply spending a night outdoors. It gives me the opportunity to photograph the landscape in conditions that relatively few people experience, from the last light of the day through to first light the following morning. It also allows me to slow down, spend more time in the landscape and appreciate Dartmoor in a way that simply isn't possible on a day visit.

 If you enjoy long walks and a night beneath the stars, then wild camping can be an incredibly rewarding way to experience Dartmoor. If you're already an experienced wild camper but would like to explore Dartmoor with a knowledgeable local guide, I'd be delighted to accompany you on a guided photographic adventure. Please get in contact.

 This video forms part of my Learning Landscape Photography on Dartmoor series, where I share the knowledge and experience I've gained from many years of photographing this remarkable landscape. If you'd like to continue learning, do take a look at the rest of the series. There is much more still to come.

Wild Tor Gallery

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The area around Manaton is best known for one of Dartmoor’s most iconic tors, Bowerman’s Nose. As a landscape photographer, it’s hard not to be drawn to this glorious granite monument. It dominates the surrounding landscape and photographs beautifully throughout the year. Even though I’ve photographed Bowerman’s Nose numerous times, and I’m sure I’ll continue to do so, it’s important to remember that it isn’t the only thing that catches my eye in this part of Dartmoor.

So, on one beautiful, sunny summer evening, I decided to walk past Bowerman’s Nose and explore the plateau above it. It wasn’t the first time I’d wandered across this area, but it was the first time I’d set out with the sole intention of exploring it with my camera rather than heading for something familiar.

It can sometimes be difficult to visualise how a landscape will photograph when the light is harsh and the sky is completely cloudless, but there were enough hints of potential to keep me interested. One composition in particular really caught my attention. It’s still very much a work in progress, though, so you’ll have to stay tuned to the blog to see where that one leads.

What did surprise me was the heather. I don’t normally expect to see Dartmoor’s heather appearing until a little later in the month, but there were already patches beginning to bloom. It was only the earliest signs of colour, yet it was enough to get me excited. It immediately took me back to the wonderful evenings I spent photographing the heather across Dartmoor last year.

Sometimes it’s important to remember that landscape photography isn’t just about coming home with spectacular images. It’s about enjoying the experience of being out there. That’s exactly what this evening became: just me, my camera, and a sense of adventure. I may not have captured any portfolio-worthy photographs, but discovering new possibilities, learning more about this part of Dartmoor, and simply enjoying the walk proved to be far more rewarding.

For as long as I’ve been visiting Glencoe, I’ve wanted to ascend the Pap of Glencoe, or to use its Gaelic name, Sgòrr na Cìche. At 742m it’s not a Munro, but what it lacks in height it more than makes up for in grandeur. It has a distinctive shape that can’t be missed when driving past Glencoe village, rising steeply from the shores of Loch Leven. I always imagined that the views from the summit would be spectacular.

On my most recent visit to the homeland, I decided that as long as the weather wasn’t horrendous, I would make time to climb this bucket list hill. So when an evening of relatively good weather presented itself, I jumped in the car and made the short drive to Glencoe. The route I chose provided some excellent views of the hill, increasing my excitement for what lay ahead.

I was soon out of the car and beginning my ascent of the Pap. It’s a steep walk, but one that rewards you with better and better views with every step. The final 150m of ascent are a little trickier as the path narrows, becoming less defined and increasingly rocky, but I was soon at the top admiring some of the finest views that Glencoe has to offer.

And the views did not disappoint. I could see for miles in every direction and even the summit of Ben Nevis stood clear on the horizon. With so much cloud and areas of light and shadow moving across the landscape, I immediately switched my Nikon Z8 to Deep Tone Monochrome, my favourite black and white camera profile, and began picking out compositions with my Nikkor 24-120mm f/4 lens.

My time on the summit wasn’t all about taking photographs though. I also took time to sit and admire the view, breathe in the fresh Highland air and simply relax. And, of course, enjoy a few snacks.

As I descended in the early evening light, the landscape became no less spectacular. I stopped several times to capture the view looking down Loch Linnhe, making the most of the constantly changing light.

As I arrived back at the car, I reflected on my adventure to the Pap of Glencoe. Although I had finally ticked this bucket list item off, I knew it would not be the last time I would ascend this magnificent Glencoe hill.

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A few times each year I return to my homeland of the Scottish Highlands. These visits are always precious to me, giving me the chance to reconnect with my family, my roots, and the landscapes that I love. They also give me the opportunity to stretch my photography and photograph something other than Dartmoor for a change! If you are a regular reader of the blog, you will know there are two Highland locations I return to again and again: Kilchurn Castle and Glencoe. Both are beautiful, iconic places, and understandably very well photographed.

Photography is not the only thing I love doing when I am in Scotland. I also have a love of walking, running, and cycling. Sometimes I follow routes I know well, but I also enjoy exploring and seeing what I can discover. It was during one of those walks a few years ago that I stumbled across a waterfall that immediately caught my attention. Not only did it look like a wonderful place for a wild swim, but it also sparked my imagination photographically.

Now, I am certainly not claiming to be the first person to discover this hidden gem, but given its remote location it is not a place that sees a huge number of photographers. Walkers, runners, and perhaps even a few cyclists may recognise it immediately when they see the photographs. One thing is certain though, it receives nowhere near the footfall of some of Glencoe’s more famous waterfalls.

Ever since first seeing it, I had wanted to return with my camera, but it has taken until now for me to finally make the long walk back. What a journey it turned out to be. The walk into the glen was beautiful, with constantly changing Highland weather bringing rain, rainbows, and moments of glorious sunshine. The old saying about experiencing four seasons in one day could not have been more accurate.

As I entered the glen, the light was simply stunning. Clouds drifted across the mountains, creating moving patches of light that danced across the landscape. I stopped several times just to breathe it all in. Even if I had come home without a single photograph, I was already in a place that made my heart sing.

Arriving at the waterfall with my camera felt genuinely special. There was no one else around for miles and I had the place entirely to myself. I could slow down, take my time, and really enjoy the process of photography. So much of landscape photography can feel slightly frantic, especially during those fleeting moments of soft light at sunrise or sunset. Here though, tucked away deep in the glen with only the sound of the water for company, time seemed to slow down. Whether I stayed for thirty minutes or three hours, very little would change. It was bliss.

While I am not publicly sharing the exact location, I am very happy to share the experience of photographing it in this video. I hope it gives you a small taste of what it felt like to be there.

I already know there is more work to be done at this waterfall. I would love to refine some of the compositions and experience the place in different seasons, water levels, and conditions. And perhaps next time I will finally bring some shorts and take that swim I keep promising myself.

I cannot wait to return.

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Strong landscape compositions are often created by building an image layer by layer. Foreground detail, middle ground structure and distant background elements all work together to create depth, balance and atmosphere within a photograph.

In my latest video, Dartmoor: Learning to Build Composition, I share my approach to composition and the thought processes I use to simplify scenes and build more engaging landscape images.

The video covers:

• Building foreground interest with rocks, grasses and texture

• Using tors and landscape features within the middle ground

• Incorporating distant hills, weather and sky into the background

Dartmoor is a landscape filled with natural structure, shape and atmosphere, making it an inspiring place to develop compositional skills. The more time spent carefully observing the relationship between different elements in the landscape, the stronger and more balanced compositions can become.

Whether you are new to landscape photography or refining your creative approach, I hope this video encourages you to think more intentionally about how you build compositions within the landscape.

If you would like to learn more about photographing Dartmoor, I also run photography workshops and 1-2-1 tuition throughout the year.

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Learn How to Photograph Dartmoor

If you’d like to learn more Dartmoor photography techniques, both creative and technical, I have a playlist of videos covering a wide range of themes and topics. You can watch the series of videos here.

Landscape photography is about far more than simply pointing a camera at a beautiful scene. It’s about understanding the environment, responding to changing conditions, making thoughtful creative decisions, and ultimately enjoying the experience of being in the landscape itself. In few places is this more true than it is on Dartmoor!

Im my latest video, Dartmoor: Learning to Capture the Landscape, I share the practical and technical process I use when photographing Dartmoor. Throughout the video I share the fieldcraft and decision-making that shape my approach to landscape photography in one of the UK’s most atmospheric and challenging environments.

In the video I talk about:

• Understanding weather and conditions

• Choosing lenses with intention

• Crafting stronger compositions

• Camera setup and field workflow

• Reviewing images on-location

Whether you are new to landscape photography or already experienced behind the camera, I hope this video offers both practical insight and encouragement to spend more time with the landscape around you.

If you would like to learn more about photographing Dartmoor, I also run photography workshops and 1-2-1 tuition throughout the year.

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Learn How to See Dartmoor

Over many years of photographing this landscape I’ve come to appreciate that technical skill is only one part of the process. Patience, observation and connection to place are equally important. If you like to learn more about this side of photographing Dartmoor then find out more here.

One of the most important parts of landscape photography happens long before the shutter is pressed. Learning to see the landscape by recognising light, shape, balance and atmosphere is at the heart of creating stronger and more personal photograph s.

In my latest video, Dartmoor: Learning to See the Landscape, I share some of the approaches that have helped shape the way I see and respond to Dartmoor over many years of photographing this remarkable landscape.

In the video I talk about

• Experiencing and getting to know your location

• Using light to shape your images

• Looking for lines, curves and natural forms

• Exploring scenes with a wide-angle lens

• Seeing compositions in a vertical orientation

Dartmoor’s constantly changing conditions make it a landscape that rewards patience and observation. The more time you spend exploring and understanding a place, the more opportunities for compelling compositions you will notice

If you would like to learn more about photographing Dartmoor, I also run photography workshops and 1-2-1 tuition throughout the year.

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Learn How to Capture Dartmoor

In the companion video, Dartmoor: Learning to Capture the Landscape, I share the practical and technical process I use when photographing Dartmoor. Throughout the video I share the fieldcraft and decision-making that shape my approach to landscape photography in one of the UK’s most atmospheric and challenging environments. Find out more here.

In my last blog post, I talked about my day out exploring and photographing the north east of the Lake District with friend and collaborator Chris Sale. Though Chris knows the Lake District very well, he has also spent the last few years getting to know the Pennines. So, the day after we photographed the Lake District, he took me out on a short walk to a nearby hill in the Pennines.

The drive up to Hartside Pass was brilliant, full of twisty bends and sweeping views. I could immediately see why it had become so popular with drivers and motorcyclists alike. It was a lovely sunny day, so the road was busy, but we were soon parked up and walking out across the open moorland towards the cairn on Fiend’s Fell.

Chris had told me many times how featureless parts of the Pennines can feel, and he wasn’t wrong. In many ways, it reminded me of Dartmoor, just without the dramatic tors. The views were stunning though: rolling hills stretching as far as the eye could see. But beyond that, there was very little to catch the eye. I could suddenly understand why Chris gets excited about stone walls and ruined buildings. Finding an interesting foreground out here certainly isn’t easy. For me, the most obvious, and probably only, choice was the cairn itself.

Almost immediately, I began thinking in black and white. Removing the colour would help emphasise the texture and structure of the cairn, while also drawing attention to the moving patterns of light and shadow moving across the landscape and sky. I never thought I’d get excited about photographing a cairn!

While the Lake District is undoubtedly the more varied and dramatic landscape, there’s no doubt that the Pennines are an area deserving of much closer attention.

A few weeks ago, my friend and long-time photography collaborator, Chris Sale, visited me in Devon and we spent a brilliant weekend photographing Dartmoor. During that weekend, we agreed that I should stop off to see him the next time I was on my way up to Scotland so we could spend the day exploring and photographing the north-west edge of the Lake District. And that’s exactly what I did.

Chris knows the Lake District very well, and I was really excited to see where he would take me on our little adventure. I wasn’t looking forward to the 03:45 alarm call though! I’m not one to shy away from an early start, after all, the best light is morning light! (In my opinion anyway.) But this was my first super-early start in quite some time. However, when the alarm sounded, I was out of bed with a spring in my step and excited for a day out with my friend and our cameras.

The first area we visited was the west side of Derwentwater. It’s a stunning location with lots to photograph, from lone trees to classic Lake District jetties, but the scene that caught my eye was a lakeside composition where the light from the rising sun beautifully illuminated the woodland. Sometimes it’s the less obvious shots that work the best.

We then moved on to Tewet Tarn, and again, for me, it was the less obvious composition that I connected with. The long dry-stone wall created a leading line towards Lonscale Fell and Blease Fell, which were topped with stunning cloud cover. Even now, looking at the photograph, I just want to follow that wall and walk up those hills!

For the final location of the day, we headed to Yew Crag and, and while the views down Ullswater were amazing, it was Aira Force that really caught my eye. Though there wasn’t much water flowing, but the beautiful and vibrant spring greens of the trees were striking, framing the waterfall perfectly. It took a few frames to get the shot as other visitors stood on the bridge, but when you’re in such a beautiful location, it’s nice to have an excuse to hang around a little longer.

And that brought us to the end of the day. A day full of adventure, chat, laughs, and photography. Happy days.

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Over the last few years, I have spent much of my photographic life exploring and capturing images of Dartmoor National Park. It’s my local landscape, and when I decided I needed to get to know it better, I focused virtually all of my photographic energy on capturing images of it. Aside from the odd photography trip outside the national park, I have done little else but photograph tors.

This wasn’t a bad thing for me to do. Having a more intimate knowledge of the environment you want to photograph yields all sorts of benefits, but sometimes you need to poke your head up and see what else is out there.

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine, who I hadn’t seen for over a year, messaged me and asked if I wanted to come to Cornwall to meet him for some chips and head out with the camera. He had me at chips!

As we ate our chips on our favourite bench, we pondered where to go. We soon settled on The Rumps, a location he knows well and one that I’m always keen to revisit. It was too early for thrift to be in bloom, but the coastline was still sure to look beautiful.

And beautiful it looked. The clear skies and gentle movement in the water did nothing to detract from the colours of the landscape, softly illuminated by the setting sun. We only photographed the scene for a short while, as the sun prematurely disappeared behind a band of hazy cloud on the horizon, but my time spent there was enough to remind me that I must spend more time on the Cornish coast this year.

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