In Search of Summer (2024)
Summertime Landscape Photography
Hey everyone! How's it going?
Summer always seems to be the quietest season for me when it comes to photography.
Whereas Autumn and Spring are defined by change and Winter - when it IS Winter - can be exceptionally diverse and pretty, Summer for me remains fairly homogenous throughout its three month span. There rarely seems to be any subject matter of much drama, with all the interesting bits - what I consider to be the essence of summer - crammed into the latter part of the season.
For this reason then, I always (always? This is only my 2nd) approach my summer seasonal round up feeling… hmmm, what’s the word… deflated? Or is it relaxed? Maybe its both. The lack of drama in my summer photography I guess feeds through into that lack of excitement. I think I need to change my approach…
sans storms
Storm wise there was nothing to chase this year, not in this part of the world anyway and anything further afield didn’t have any worthwhile risk attached to it that seemed worth pursuing at the time (although in hindsight this turned out to be a completely different case). Workload prevented me from chasing anyway and that's the excuse I’m sticking to. Seems like forever since I last chased a storm in this country and I don’t know if that’s a blessing or a curse.
I have to remember as well that the first month of summer is always dominated by my storm chasing in the States. Though that only lasts into mid June, it usually takes a fair while to recover from, so June this year was typically a write-off in terms of native Summer photography. Stateside storms were off the chart this year though with some exceptional structure and lightning to catch.
Summer then is usually spent on reccies around notable locations in preparation for the appearance of more interesting weather and conditions. That and waterfalls of course. Waterfalls are always great to visit in the summertime especially as there tends to be less flow over any of the falls at this time of year, rendering them in a more graceful character.
waterfall wanders
On several whims, I repaid a visit to some of the usual suspects. First up was Middle Burn, mostly to do some pick-ups for a video I’m putting together but also to see if I can’t catch the falls in a different light. This place still throws me off in terms of character and I find taking a photo of it that isn’t dominated by the overgrown foreground near impossible. But therein I guess lies its character; these isolated falls, secluded in an untraversable ravine (even more so in the summer) where its position is surrounded by an overgrown patchwork of moss, heather, ferns and an out of place fir tree.
As tricky as this place is to visit when fully overgrown (the waterside is a tangled mess of overgrown vegetation at the bottom of a steep ravine that hides several dips and cracks that can easily send you straight into the burn) I think it would be even worse under a couple of inches of snow but I’d love to see it rendered this way with a pink sunrise behind. Or, even better; with the snow glistening under a full moon but I’m not sure I’m quite willing to risk my life for such a shot just yet.
hindhope linn
Next up was the ever enchanting Hindhope Linn which really needs no excuse for a visit at any time of year. On this occasion however, there’s a painting by Albert Bierstadt that evokes an atmosphere I want to try and recreate and there are a couple of waterfalls that I think fit the bill, Hindhope being one of them. My visit here then was purely for research (as if I need an excuse to visit this amazing little dell) and I took the opportunity to try out some different angles and compositions. As with Middle Burn, Hindhope is also the subject of a video I’m putting together so I shot a lot of drone and documentary footage as well.
Featherwood linn
Just a stone’s throw from Hindhope is Featherwood Linn, a pretty little waterfall that slips over a sandstone lip and sits isolated within the folds of the Otterburn Ranges. Despite its allure, its a tricky waterfall to photograph as your approach is limited by a steep wall to the east meaning the more gradual fern-covered western bank is your only vantage point. The flow state over the lip has always been somewhat of a trickle whenever I’ve visited and there’s not much in the way of an interesting foreground. The surrounding area is lush with ferns and tall grass in the summer but I’ve no doubt mentioned this before that to my mind this is a waterfall that is best photographed from a distance on a cold, bleak midwinter's day, accentuating its sense of loneliness and isolation.
whimsical wanderings
Aside from such whimsical wanderings, I find what I consider to be the quintessential essence of summer is packed into the back end of August when the heather comes into full bloom and farmer’s bale up their hay.
Northumberland’s moorland is famed for its heather and, naturally, I ventured out to two of the county's most picturesque spots; the Harbottle Hills and the Simonside Hills. I can’t overstate how stunning these areas look at this time of year, their slopes completely covered in broad strokes of purple and violet that create a spectacular vibrance across the landscape.
Spilling in streaks down the eastern slopes of the Harbottle hills, the heather runs like paint between the numerous rocky outcrops. Visit at the right time as the sun goes down and the light plays fantastically across these ridges and folds. Point your camera northward from the overlook at the Drake Stone and you have a fantastic scene of distinct, separated foreground, midground and background as the heather and rocks give way to a treeline that reaches upward toward the Cheviots that look sketched in watercolour.
A similar theme plays out across the Simonside Hills as the heather blooms amidst the ferns with the rocky outcrops of Dove Crag providing a dramatic foreground to the serenity of the Coquet Valley below and the Cheviot Hills beyond.
Beware the midges though. Somehow it just seems to get worse every year. At least on the occasion I trekked up into the Harbottle Hills, it was breezy enough up there to prevent them swarming. But on the lee side of the hills out of the wind it was a different matter. I suffered for my art on these days and for the following days thereafter as a rash of red bites blossomed across my head, like an egg-shaped strawberry.
hay bales
Serendipity provided this year’s hay bale shots. Originally en route to do a heather shoot up in the hills, I found myself a bit restless that day. It was windy, the quality of light felt harsh and I just wasn’t feeling it for whatever reason so whilst deliberating whether or not to call it, I drove past a field filled with fresh bales so grabbed that opportunity instead.
This time they were in an accessible field (actually adjacent to the one I visited last year) so I spent a lazy afternoon wandering up and down the footpath snapping away at anything that caught my eye.
The drone came out on this occasion as well, allowing me to grab an entirely different view from the air which I feel turned out to be my favourite shots so I've included them here. I’m new to this whole drone thing but I’m excited by what I’ve already achieved with it, allowing both myself and the viewer to explore so many beautiful locations in much greater depth.
pillars of light and stone
The sun continued to give us some spectacular aurora displays this year and mid August provided me with the opportunity to visit the standing stones up at Duddo and to try and grab the kind of shots I wanted during May’s incredible G4 display.
Though this display wasn’t on the scale of that event, it was still mesmerising enough to have me laughing unashamedly at just how wondrous even small events like this can be. The usual green arc that appears above the horizon was both bright and vivid, accompanied by clearly structured pillars of purple and magenta that towered high into the sky.
Any Northern Lights display, regardless of scale, always induces a sense of wonder and awe in me and I’m fast starting to treat these events now with the same fervour I do chasing storms; planning and pursuing them in the same enthusiastic manner whilst attempting to up my photographic skills. Its addictive stuff.
At the time of writing, it was officially announced that the sun has now peaked in its 11 year solar cycle. Weather permitting (seemingly constant cloud cover continues to be an annoyance in this part of the world) I’ll be chasing as many events down as possible.
spacedust
Another lesser known astronomical event that takes place at this time of year was the appearance of noctilucent clouds. These are very rare clouds that occur high up in the atmosphere late in the evening after sundown. They're easily identifiable, appearing on clear summer nights as banks of bright silvery feathers against the twilight.
As has almost become customary when I need to do a shoot at short notice, I headed to the ever versatile Bolam Lake to capture that spun silver reflected in the calm waters. Here you’re greeted with total silence and solitude, allowed to marvel at the cosmos above and contemplate the reflections within.
visitor in formation
And finally, still at Bolam Lake, I was able to grab another shot similar to the one I took in Spring of the ducklings paddling by this awkward tree that leans out across the water. Armed this time with the knowledge of how to actually compose the shot, I literally walked into a family of geese entering the water several yards up the shoreline. Seeing where they were headed, I immediately skipped ahead of them, set up my camera and waited. They kindly paddled over in a V-formation, done a few turns, acted their most photogenic before swiftly buggering off when they realised I wasn’t about to toss them any bread.
The light wasn’t as romantic this time around but I feel the composition was better. I guess you just can’t have everything all the time.
cheers
As always, thanks for reading and if you enjoyed this blog, feel free to share and be sure to check out my other seasonal blogs in this series.
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