I’ve been up it numerous times, just normally during the day as an easy little walk, pondering future shots but not really making any serious plans.

I guess it’s all too easy to be drawn by the bigger hills, but my outings on Beinn a’ Chrulaiste over the last few months have reinforced the principle that the best views of the most impressive mountains aren’t actually gained by standing on them.

However, come Saturday morning, with a weather forecast a little too perfect for the evening ahead, I figured swathes of cloud and histrionic light would be in short supply and so Haystacks came to mind when pondering somewhere simply pretty and peaceful to pitch the tent.

I set off late in the afternoon, hopping off the bus at Seatoller with a relatively short walk ahead of me, up Honister Pass and on to Fleetwith, then over Little Round How to Haystacks.

It is a popular little fell, but the top sprawls over a surprisingly large area, so there’s usually a quiet corner to sit and compose yourself.

I pitched the tent on a grassy alleyway amongst the heather and rock, and then set about capturing some late evening light, knowing that the clear blue sky really wasn’t going to be my friend.

After messing about with a quick couple of reflection shots I scrambled up a rocky knoll on the far side of Innominate Tarn, giving me a clear vantage point overlooking Ennerdale and Back Sail to Great Gable and Kirk Fell. The light was warming up as the sun sank, but nothing really interesting was happening.

Any dwindling interest was soon lost as the light bleached out, the sun fading behind high level cloud out to sea.

I wandered back to the tent to sort dinner, setting the alarm for something past 4 as I did so. Damn summer sunrise times. I eventually slept with the door open, enjoying the short blissful time of the year when the nights are mild and gentle, but free from an aerial infestation with insatiable bloodlust.

The sun dawned weak again the next morning, veiled as is so often the case by cloud over the Pennines.

I still managed to work away for an hour or so, mainly concentrating on the view over High Crag and Buttermere from the summit, before returning back to the tent for a second pre – breakfast doze, happy with a very pleasant one night escape.

The courses are ideal for beginners looking to learn more about some of the basics of photography, or those looking to get more from their camera by not relying on point and shoot and don’t think automatic modes.

You will learn more about the main principles of exposure such as aperture, shutter speed and ISO; and how changes to these affect the image produced.

For those that are already familiar with these, you will still get plenty out of the day as we will also learn about how to approach a scene, including help with composition, balancing the light, and adding depth and scale to a shot.

The cost is just £40 per person, and the day will last for approximately 5 -6 hours, giving plenty of time for one on one tuition dealing with any specific things you’d like to learn, as well as allowing ample time to explore and enjoy our location.

The courses take place in a variety of photogenic Lake District locations, with a range of scenery to shoot, including lakes, fells, rivers, waterfalls and woodland.

Please note: most of the workshops will involve low level walking over easy terrain, as should be evident from the workshop description, so you should be reasonably fit and happy to be on your feet all day.

Currently available dates:

Grasmere, Saturday June 15th – NOW FULLY BOOKED

Grasmere and Rydal, Sunday June 30th: Beginning from White moss gives us easy access to views over Rydal and Grasmere, as well as surrounding woodland, rivers and even a cave to work with.

Buttermere, Wednesday July 10th: A low level walk around the lake shore, so expect classic views of the surrounding fells, the famous lone tree and Buttermere pines, and waterfalls and streams.

To book simply select the number of places you require on a course in the drop down box below, and feel free to contact me on stewart@stewartsmithphotography.co.uk or 07872 429826 for more information.

-- Please Select -- - Buttermere July 10th, one person - £40.00Grasmere and Rydal June 30th, one person - £40.00Buttermere July 10th, two people - £80.00Grasmere and Rydal June 30th, two people - £80.00

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I guess it would be another of those holiday/work/photography trips. I’ve no idea which is which any more.

I was however camped out the back of the Kingshouse Hotel, so I guess the potential was for more holiday than the other two.

I awoke on day one to a soft pitter patter on the tent, at first fearing more rain, but then realised it was too gentle. This was the hushed dance of tiny snowy feet.

A pallid veil obscured the surrounding summits, so I decided to spend the day wandering at lower levels.

A quick exploration of the Allt a’ Bhalaich revealed dwindling water levels and weak cascades. Nothing much was catching my eye, so I chose to head for Glen Etive instead, where even a walk down the road feels like a fully immersive highland experience.

Last time I’d been here wind and hail had been battering down the glen, the swollen river a background torrent of rage. Walking had been tricky enough; photography impossible.

Today the light flurries of snow were barely a suggestion of precipitation, the River Etive a gentle babbling undercurrent as I meandered down the road.

I decided to circumnavigate my usual photographic prey by carrying on down the glen and returning back via the Lairig Gartain – a full round of Buachaille Etive Mor.

A good walk around its flanks would be a nice warm up for the next morning’s plans – a higher level dawn view of this iconic mass of rock from Beinn a’ Chrulaiste.

I had pondered a wild(er) camp on the summit, but reasoned that the forecast windspeeds would probably cause me even more disturbance than a 4.30am start from my existing low level pitch. With some reluctance I crawled in for an early night and set the alarm.

There does need to be some photographic motivation to walk up a mountain in the dark – an activity that essentially takes all the joy out of walking up a mountain.

A few twinkling points of light in the overhead void were enough to encourage me to make that hardest step – the first one to get out of a cosy sleeping bag and into the winter night.

After that the rest are easier (if occasionally a little clumsy) as long as there is hope of photographic possibilities at the end.

Although there’s no real distinguishable path in the upward clamber amongst Beinn a’ Chrulaiste’s rock and heather, I’d been up a number of times previously so even following a confined pool of headtorch light I was confident of not going too far awry. My landscape memory is strong enough to withstand occasional moments of disorientation.

As night retreated and a navigable ambient light emerged it soon became clear I might not get my burst of dawn light. A battleship grey mass of cloud was skulking on the horizon, and despite clear skies overhead and biting winds it didn’t appear to be inclined to shift.

It was bitter enough on the summit to need to keep on the move, so I kept circling around, one eye out for possible compositions once the sun emerged into the clear territory overhead.

Belatedly the sun emerged, casting a weak glow across the brittle frozen foreground, and my work for the morning was soon over.

After a swift descent with an almost perceptible scent of a waiting fried breakfast wafting up from the hotel, I needed to make plans for the rest of my day.

Heading for the Buachaille and getting on it rather than looking at it would feel like a fitting conclusion to the mini trip. And so I found myself pottering down the Old Military Road under swathes of blue, forgetting all about Glencoe rain.

Heading up into Coire na Tulaich, the banked up snow made the ascent steeper than usual, and there were soon many stops being made to admire the view and refrain from expiring completely.

The day was racing away, and as I hauled myself onto the ridge in lowering cloud, admiring my ascent tracks, I decided to call it quits there. Navigating in cloud and descending in the dark would be an unnecessary complication to a fine day out.

And boy that run back down the corrie in deep snow was going to be utterly magnificent.

I returned back via the banks of the River Coupall, the mountains once again shrouded in grey.

Passing the three deep tripod holes at the usual view  I was surprised to find it deserted, but then I realised someone had turned the waterfall taps off. Maybe it needed some more rain after all.

Doing so would take me towards Esk Hause, with the plan being to carry on over Great End and on to Scafell Pike.

Or maybe on to Esk Pike and Bowfell and down to Langdale. Or maybe down to Styhead and on to Gable. One of the few perks of bus travel is circular routes and fixed plans aren’t a necessity as long as you remember when the last one departs…

This walk had intended to be a ‘calm before the storm’ outing, with gale force winds and heavy snow due to move in later in the day. However, both of these were a heavy enough presence for the duration of the walk as it was.

Hopping off the bus at Seatoller means doubling back along the road for a short section to take the path over Strands Bridge but apart from that you begin to climb straight away, and I was soon up on to Thornythwaite Fell, breaching the snowline and into the wind.

It was certainly more of a buffeting companion than I’d expected this early in the day. Nothing too problematic, just strong enough to make you feel like you’re up a mountain, which is as it should be.

It did however add an annoying element to the walk; constantly scooping up the loose powdery snow and whipping me in the side of the face. You don’t really change direction very much on Glaramara, so after a while it was like being constantly pelted with soft gravel.

Temperament veered between expletive ridden vexation and attacks of giggly silliness as I imagined someone watching me from a distance swearing futilely and pulling down headgear protectively against the attacks of some unseen airborne foe.

I’m always prone to giddiness on grand winter mountain days in soft snow anyway. You can lose control and fall about a bit more and always find a soft landing. As long as you don’t fall off anything too big.

Suspected austerity of pace in the wind and snow was confirmed with a time check at the summit cairn. Initial route ambitions would have to be scaled back. There wasn’t really anywhere else to go until I dropped off Allen Crags to Esk Hause anyway, so I decided I’d re – route then.

It ended up being a severe route shortening, with me taking the direct return route to Seatoller via Ruddy Gill and Grains Gill. Five hours to do just that short circular, but it felt like a good long day in the hills, which is always a good feeling to take home.

Spiteful spatterings of rain on the window in the morning increasingly began to solidify and by mid morning all was white with the world outside.

Here close to the West coast of Cumbria we don’t often get much snow; the wintry weather systems normally flow in from the East and being stuck out on a limb means the snowline usually stays a few miles away.

Given the coverage, I thought I’d have an afternoon amble down to my nearest beach at Roanhead, Sandscale Haws, and see if the dunes had managed to gain a coating.

Though I don’t visit that much any more, I used to wander here quite a bit when I first took up photography more seriously as it’s only half an hour on foot from the front door. In fact, I think my first published photo was a beach shot from Sandscale Haws. I must try and dig out the slide some time to see if it’s worth scanning.

Anyway, I digress…. yes the beach was snowy. The wind and snow meant I could only really take photos in one direction, with my back to it, but here are a few deceptively peaceful looking results.

Please note that although these are ex – exhibition prints they are undamaged and as new, and if you’re unhappy with any purchase you will be given a full refund.

Available prints and sizes are as below, simply select from the drop down box at the bottom of the page and then proceed to checkout as usual.

Print sizes are the nearest 1/2 inch.

*Note* I’ve just added some further prints to the bottom of the page, all mounted and ready to frame.

If you have any questions please feel free to contact me.

Lodore Falls, 23" x 18" and 19" x 15", Nos 33 and 21 of 50

Autumn Light, Buachaille Etive Mor, 23" x 18", No 7 of 50

Winter Sketch, Stob Dearg; 23" x 20", No 11 of 50

SOLD!

Last Light, Liathach; 30" x 14", No 21 of 50

SOLD!

Cloud Waterfalls, Bannerdale Crags; 15.5" x 8", No 3 of 50

Cloudsurfing, Grisedale Pike; 23" x 10.5", No 10 of 50

SOLD

Autumn, Stockghyll; 15.5" x 14", No 9 of 50

Jagged Edge, 19" x 14.5", No 13 of 50

Loch Coruisk from Sgurr na Stri, 19" x 13", No 4 of 50

Fleeting Light, Hindscarth Edge; 15.5" x 8", No 7 of 50

SOLD!

Sgurr a FionnChoire, 17.5" x 12.5", No 11 of 50

SOLD

Stanley Ghyll Force; 18" x 13", No 3 of 50

SOLD

SOLD

Torridon Surge, 18" x 13", No 2 of 50

SOLD

Spilt Milk, Langstrath; 16" x 13", No 15 of 50

SOLD

Ennerdale from Great Gable, 17" x 12.5", No 4 of 50

Rock Waves Allt Dearg Mor; 18" x 13", No 2 of 50

-- Please Select -- - Cloud Waterfalls, Bannerdale Crags; 15.5" x 8" Mounted Print, No 3 of 50 - £15.00Fleeting Light, Hindscarth Edge; 15.5" x 8" Mounted Print, No 7 of 50 - £17.00Autumn, Stockghyll; 15.5" x 14" Mounted Print, No 9 of 50 - £29.00Spilt Milk, Langstrath; 16" x 13" Mounted Print, No 15 of 50 - £30.00Rock Waves, Allt Dearg Mor; 18" x 13" Mounted Print, No 2 of 50 - £35.00Ennerdale from Great Gable, 17" x 12.5" Mounted Print, No 4 of 50 - £35.00Torridon Surge, 18" x 13" Mounted Print, No 2 of 50 - £35.00Stanley Ghyll Force, 18" x 13" Mounted Print, No 3 of 50 - £35.00Sgurr a Fionn Choire, 17.5" x 12.5" Mounted Print, No 11 of 50 - £35.00Loch Coruisk from Sgurr na Stri, 19" x 13" Mounted Print, No 4 of 50 - £35.00Jagged Edge, 19" x 14.5" Mounted Print, No 13 of 50 - £35.00Cloudsurfing, Grisedale Pike; 23" x 10.5" Mounted Print, No 10 of 50 - £35.00Lodore Falls, 19" x 15" Framed Print, No 21 of 50 - £55.00Autumn Light, Buachaille Etive Mor, 23" x 18" Framed Print, No 7 of 50 - £70.00Last Light, Liathach; 30" x 14" Framed Print, No 21 of 50 - £75.00Lodore Falls, 23" x 18" Framed Print, No 33 of 50 - £75.00Winter Sketch, Stob Dearg; 23" x 20" Framed Print, No 11 of 50 - £75.00

Price: £0.00

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I had pondered an overnighter, but decided to leave the tent behind and just book into a hostel if I ended up staying out too late to be bothered to come home.

The initial plan, as much as there was one, was to head west somewhere, probably ending up in Borrowdale or Buttermere. It soon became obvious that the snow cover was sparser than I had anticipated, particularly in the western Lakes, so I headed east for a quick afternoon jaunt over Dollywaggon and Nethermost Pikes.

Hopping off the bus at the top of Dunmail Raise gives the lazy walker (or the one carrying camera gear) a bit of a head start on altitude, plus I’d hoped to find some frozen bits of Raise Beck to slide the tripod around on.

Most of it was still catching direct sunlight, which wouldn’t really work for the combination of solidity and fluidity I was after, but I managed to find a few shady patches.

Despite freezing temperatures in the shadows, sunlit slopes were being quickly and unceremoniously stripped of their winter garb.

What appeared to be a field of plants growing fresh ice and snow on the summit of Dollywaggon did give me hope though

Looking out over Grisedale towards St Sunday Crag and the more wintry looking eastern Lakes…

Afternoon cloud was amassing with intent, so I worked on a few more things looking over Ruthwaite Cove towards High Crag and Nethermost Pike before packing the camera away and enjoying a bleak blustery end to the walk.

Available now from all good newsagents etc etc…

Helvellyn from Wythburn via Birk Side, and then back down Browncove Crags to Swirls. If I’m not messing around with the camera too much, I can be on the summit gazing over Red Tarn and those two lovely edges in just over an hour.

I did this outing late afternoon last week whilst busy with last minute prep for the exhibition at ShAFF. The snow was fading fast, and most patches were avoidable, however those that remained were frozen hard higher up, and I had to don crampons just for a solid banked up section on the descent of Browncove Crags.

It was mainly a walk rather than a proper photography outing, but I know some of you like to see anyway, so here are a few snaps.

Skiddaw and White Side from Swirral Edge summit cairn

Hazy sun over the Western Lakes

Browncove Crags and Skiddaw in late evening light

Hazy sunset over Great Gable and Pillar