Right time, right place

There have been times in my life when I’ve regretted not having my camera with me. Those rare moments when you see something truly strange or enchanting, and you know the likelihood of stumbling across it again are pretty unlikely.

I usually carry it when I’m out and about (quick tip: a jacket with epaulettes is great for preventing strap slippage). I should take it with me in the car more often - something I always did when we lived in the Highlands, but not so much now.

That needs to change, as we’re still surrounded by beautiful landscapes and there are always those Things You See: unexpected moments which take you by surprise. Serendipity, unusual occurrences where things come together at just the right time to create something worth capturing.

We had some snow recently. Living where we do, in February, that’s just what happens. We also see a lot of mist filling the valley, and regularly witness cloud inversions. The lower climes are filled with white, dense clouds like a smoking cauldron. And when you’re used to seeing these things, they can become unremarkable. Literally just a part of the scenery. But they’re not; they’re quite incredible when you stop and take notice.

A drive across the moors towards Haworth revealed a magical morning, one we had to stop and marvel at and try to photograph.

We weren’t alone; a few others had pulled over at the side of the road too, with their cameras (and tripods and fancy lenses - they were really prepared). I took a few photos using my phone, too, but I knew it wouldn't give me anywhere near the same quality as the camera.

Another mile or two, and the views across Bronte country with its dusting of snow and drifts of low-lying white mist were just too lovely to drive past without stopping again. So we did.

The thing is, we weren’t ‘out for a drive’. We were on our way to look at some furniture. Our trip had a definite purpose. But when you get into photography you become an observer, always, regardless of the circumstances. Every trip has an element of sightseeing, and (when practical) adding your camera to your daily essentials means you’re less likely to miss those spectacles. They only come along every so often, so being ready to capture and preserve them is a good thing.

For me, a walk invariably means ‘fresh air and photographs’. Finding the balance between storing things in your memory bank, and the act of photographing them, is a personal one. Actually experiencing moments is important (I don’t understand those people who insist on filming entire concerts on their phones rather than just being ‘present’). But carrying a camera means I’m always seeking and appreciating what’s in front of me. It gives you an inquisitive eye, a sense of curiosity.

Our landscape here is, at times, reminiscent of that we were surrounded by on Skye. Looking at images of it, the two are almost the same.

But beyond the big picture, look deeper. Into the woods, beyond the layers. Photography encourages us to be that bit more vigilant of our surroundings and, as a result, more appreciative of what we notice.