… to where, we do not know. At this time of year, most of my landscape photography outings are confined to an early morning or late evening hill wander.
Not because the hills are much quieter at these times (though that’s an added bonus in the Lake District in summer), but because the generally benign conditions rarely yield interesting light during the rest of the day.
Come autumn and winter the angle of the sun is lower, perfect for picking up textures and revealing depth. Crags rendered timid and unthreatening by the flat summer light suddenly leer menacingly from deep shadows once more.
The first storms often arrive, and the contrast between daytime and nighttime temperatures bring frosts and mists which veil the landscape, temporarily transforming it into something new.
My last couple of walks this week have both been in conditions more reminiscent of early autumn; the strength of the wind in the hills and the need to don a down jacket whilst waiting for the light not what you’d normally associate with August.
This, of course, is all good news. Scudding cloud sailing at speed across the sky leaves some fine bursts of light in its wake.
Unfortunately on both evenings I lost the light to a westerly bank of cloud around an hour before it was due to fizzle out, so none of the shots I had in mind came to fruition. However, here are a few reactionary snaps from Mellbreak and High Snockrigg.