Legend has it that if you sit for a while on the tip of the man in Cerne Abbas' erm, member, it will aid your chances of conception. I don't think they mean just any old man in Cerne Abbas, mind; they probably mean him up there on the hill in the white chalk.
This turned out to be a bit of a mad day because parking in and around Bournemouth and Poole is a) a nightmare and b) expensive. I parked the van for FREE in a little country park a few miles out of Poole at around 3pm and after three necessary cups of Lady Grey tea and an all-day breakast, I cycled to Poole Quay. This being on 'the list' (gosh, I'm starting to sound like Earl Hickey) I spent an hour or so in the late afternoon light capturing people eating ice cream, chomping on fish and chips, drinking beer etc. as per the request. I managed to look less like a stalker than usual by making it look like I was just taking pics of the sea gulls mid flight. This worked a treat till one lonely old soul decided this was the most interesting thing he'd seen all day and proceeded to engage me in conversation about my choice of shooting subject matter. I didn't reveal I was actually trying to capture the people and movement of the quay just as much as I was the birds. He seemed far more intent on telling me about his cruising experiences on famous yachts and cruise liners around the world. It was at this point I remembered I should try to stop being the world politest person and also I began to wonder what other sort of cruising he might be up to. I swiftly made my excuses and booked myself on the last boat of the day out to Brownsea Island.
The island is also on my list and it's a bit of a tricky one. The whole island is National Trust owned which means that we can't publish any pictures taken ON there. NT have their own picture library and expect publishers to use and pay for using these rather than take their own so RG have only requested I get shots from the water and not on NT land. This made 4.30pm the best time to get on a boat over there because the island closes at 5pm it meant I couldn't get off the boat on arrival at the quay. It also meant I got the trip for half price! Hooray. The sun was still quite high in the sky so not quite perfect but I knew there was little chance of getting any better light during the cruising time of day at this time of year.
My day was really only just beginning at this point because once I was back in Poole I then donned my rather unattractive cycle helmet and day-glow builder's-style jacket and cycled along to Branksome and then along the promenade into Bournemouth. It was a glorious ride and, once on the prom, all flat.
What I was after in Bournemouth was a pic of the pier at night. I've seen shots of it all lit up in bright colours and thought that would work well for the TNTM section options. There was only one slight snag with my plan and that is that it was only around 6.30pm when I arrived in town and, what with the days getting longer and all that, there was no chance of taking the shot till at least 9pm at a guess.
I passed at least half an hour buying a bucket and spade for the shot above and even made a sandcastle or two (felt a bit silly, mind. I was all wrapped up in several layers of mostly black clothing and didn't look the least bit like I was dressed for a day on the beach). So what to do next? I was running out of phone battery so calling a few people was out of the question. Befriend a few locals? I was so exhausted from the ride (plus can't quite say I'd had a shower in a few days...ah, the joys of life on the road!) and wasn't even sure I could string enough sentences together to sound coherent and erm, normal on account of having spoken to no one all day, so that was kinda out of the question.
I'm afraid to say, I bottled it. I got back on my bike around 9pm when the sky was STILL too light to see the colours of the pier and rode all the way (six or seven miles I reckon) back to the car park on the other side of Poole. I will just have to return to Bournemouth for that shot at a later date. November perhaps?
I arrived at the van around 10pm after wobbling all over the road towards the end of the ride and opted, despite the clear signage saying 'no overnight camping', to stay in the country park car park. As you know, I'm usually a law abiding citizen, but I didn't think driving while that exhausted was a good plan (particularly when I had nowhere specific to head to) but also, it didn't say 'STRICTLY no overnight camping' and no fine fee was mentioned. So, yes, I broke the rules...just a little bit, but maaan, I slept well.
Thought I'd best upload a 'proper' shot too. I haven't had the chance to do a full edit yet but this one is probably not relevant for submission so I figure it's ok to put it up here....
Bank holiday was nearing and the campsites were getting full so one night last week I opted for a spacious layby just outside Milton on Sea. It looked fairly deserted and there definitely no 'Strictly no camping' signs to I figured I'd be in for a peaceful night.
Er, no.
I'd only vaguely clocked the cows in the next-door field but within about 15mins of my arrival I was far more acquainted with my new neighbours.
They seemed perfectly harmless but I sought the safety of the inner Bertie...just in case. And then I reversed a little bit so they couldn't look into the van with their dark, inquisitive eyes. What was going on behind that innocent Fresian facade?
Maaan, you can tell I'm a city dweller.
While parked at Keyhaven I thought I'd try and make it look less like I was there for the night and more like I had a purpose so I got my tripod out and attempted to take some long exposures. It was bloody cold but the sky looked amazing and the water looked like mercury. This shot has lost a little of the colour contrast it originally had somewhere between photoshop and upload to internet – my failings in understanding optimal colour profiles, no doubt – but you get the idea. So did the late-night fishermen on the quayside who didn't even give me a second glance.
After this shot, I accidentally put it on a 30 second exposure (which I didn't think was really necessary) so I took the opportunity to dance around in front of the camera in my woolly, sheepy 70s coat with the lantern (yes, I did look somewhat like a crazed hippy) until I realised the boats out at sea might think I was a lighthouse (albeit a discolighthouse) so that was the end of that game. I might post that image later if I can dig it out of the archive.
I'd cycled between 'Hurst View' (not that you could really see Hurst Castle from the campsite) and Keyhaven in the biting wind and boiling sun and in between cursing weathers I'd spotted this little layby that didn't have a 'strictly no over night camping' sign. Obvious choice for a night, thought I.
This is Bertie in the morning sun by Keyhaven harbour. I'm noticing that camping in places no strictly designated camping spots makes me drag myself from my slumbers at ungodly enough hours as not to get caught. Which in turn helps me get fabulous morning sun shots. The sun alone won't lure me from sleep. Evidently, I'm not THAT dedicated to my art!
On arrival in Lymington, I was fully expecting to spend a while trying to find a quiet layby for the night's sleeping but, like a cat after a bird, upon seeing a signpost for 'Hurst View Caravan site" I followed the little brown signs to a little green campsite. The place was run by a little hobbit-like man called Wim who I thought rather resembled an eskimo. It was his fur-collared coat on a warm summer's day that led me to think that rather than any evidence of nose kissing greetings.
I was the only camper and I was so relieved that, for my ten pound fee I got an electrical hook up AND access to hot shower. Bargain. I stayed for two days.
Not sure I've shown you Bertie's backside yet. I have no idea as to the relevance and heritage of the 'Balance and well being' slogan but I do think it's quite apt. As you probably already know, I've taken four months off work to drive around the UK (although not Wales; did that last year!) and take photos. I'm readdressing the work-life balance (by working and living in Bertie!) and improving my well being (apart from the utter, utter loneliness that sometimes befalls me when I'm too exhausted to make effort to find people to talk to). All in all, so far, I think it's working; my face is sun-tanned and freckled and my soul is peaceful.
Even the camera was bleary-eyed from the chilly night at Roundhill Campsite in the New Forest. SEVENTEEN POUNDS FIFTY PEE to spend the night here. Was it worth it? Hmmm, I think the answer is on the no side of the yes/no divide.
The English Heritage lady says "Oooh, don't go up the tower, we're thinking of closing it for the day on account of the strong winds.", "Don't worry, I won't" says I. "Although....what a good idea! What potential for a good shot," I think to myself. So off I trot up the stone staircase of dizzying spirals.
Thankfully I didn't get blown off and I did manage to get some okayish shots of the castle ruins, the church and the sea beyond, despite the solid grey sky and lack of interesting light.
This is Bertie (under the tree) waiting patiently for my return.
For some reason, I just assumed finding fields of watercress along the Itchen Valley would be really easy. Rock up, point, shoot, job done. Erm, no. Certainly not that simple. I asked a little old lady with whiskers who was weeding her garden in the quaint village of Easton if she knew where I could find some. She umm-ed and aaah-ed for a moment before suggesting I head in the opposite direction along the river. Once on this path, I posed the same question to a German-sounding lady unpacking her car boot by a large riverside cottage. She suggested I head to a village called Kings Worthy where there was a farm shop.
This was a rather good tip off as the farm shop grew its own watercress but it was rather unfortunate that the whole lot had just been harvested. All three fields of it. The picture just looked like an endless patch of gravel. It was a great place to buy local cheese, chutney and freshly made bread for lunch though. It was during this little pause in the hunt that I realised all the watercress fields were actually marked on the map. Ah. Yes. Now that's quite helpful.
This picture is Bertie resting on a little bridge over the River Itchen just outside Easton in Hampshire.
Me in my van BEFORE putting all my stuff in her.
Credit for this pic goes to Almonkey (http://www.flickr.com/photos/almonkey)
I must point out...this is not one of my pics; I asked my HDR-obsessed friend to HDR-ify the van and this is the result. Does rather make Bertie look dirty but the sky is AMAZING (and HDR is ALWAYS impressive). This is Bertrude at home in Highbury. She won't be bedding down in that locale again any time soon :)
