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Northumberland 2021: Part Four

29 and 30 May 2021

I woke to fog. This would, in some situations, be awesome news to a photographer, but it was so thick, I couldn’t see very far out of Freds windows. This wasn’t looking like ‘good’ fog at all. I still got ready fairly slowly however, in the vain hope that it would lift – but it wasn’t happening. I didn’t want to waste my last day, but there didn’t seem to be anything I would be able to do. If it was like this everywhere, was it going to be worth staying on at all?

I decided that if I was going home, I may as well check out parking spots on the way, for the locations I hoped to visit when I came back, in just over a weeks time. I left heading for Alnwick castle, passing a curious tower called Outchester Ducket. It was a bit of a random thing to pass, so I stopped anyway to read the little plaque. It wasn’t very informative, pretty much saying that very little was known about it, and that it was now a holiday cottage. Though out in the middle of nowhere, its not set in a particularly pretty setting, so I took a snap on my phone for reference. I don’t think its a ‘spot’ I would bother with ordinarily.

As I looked around I realised the fog had lifted, so continued on my way to the castle, happy with the thought that I might have a photographic day after all. Once I found the parking spot and went for a walk, hopes there were dashed however, when I saw the castle was covered with scaffolding. I walked around the area for a bit, but any shots I hoped for would have to wait until they had finished the work they were doing. Within the hour I had left again, and was headed for Warkworth castle instead. Here would be a lovely shot reflecting in the river maybe, and hopes were high, until I turned up, parked and looked at the scene… The castle was barely visible through thick fog that covered everything on the hill it stood on. I sat for a while, then just made a spot of lunch and looked out on the river I was parked next to. I spotted a man in a boat with a camera happily photographing a tree, and then two men on the bank near me, looking through binoculars. ‘What’s he photographing?’ I asked, so they pointed to the tree and told me that there was a heron in it. I hurriedly went in, changed my lens on the camera to the zoom, and headed out to see what I could see myself … nothing it seemed.. as the flipping bird had flown away, and the photographer was rowing his boat back upstream. Gagh!!! It really wasn’t feeling like my day!

I just sat and sadly ate my lunch on the camper step, torn with what to do, then, some 30 minutes later I spotted movement on the far bank. I looked through my own binoculars, and my heart leaped. There was the heron – he had come back! I carefully got out my camera, and tried what I could. Even with the camera at its maximum zoom, he was a little dot where he was so far away, but I still managed some fairly reasonable pictures of him that I am not too sad about. I am no bird photographer, but just following the movements of this one, being patient, waiting until he calmly moved a little closer, and trying what I could, brought me immense, and really unexpected joy. Now I get the reason why people enjoy birding and the reward of bird photography!

 

Once I finished here, my drive brought me inland, and the sky was looking beautifully clear and blue. Thinking the fog had finally cleared, I adjusted my drive to take in the coastal spots I originally hoped to get – first on the list was Newbiggin, where I hoped to photograph the rather unusual ‘Couple’ sculpture. Once again, I was thwarted, and the sculpture was invisible behind the thick wall of white. I altered my miserable attitude, laughed at the situation, and simply worked out the best parking spot, and, after walking the beach, the best position for the photo I eventually hoped to get. On the way back, I spotted some beautiful markings in the sand. The tide at this spot had washed the tiny grains of worn black coal that form some of this areas stratum, into beautiful patterns. I didn’t have my camera with me, but thankfully the mobile was as helpful as ever in capturing it…

When I left here, the sky cleared inland, and I again made a detour back to the coast… to once again be fooled – ‘will I actually learn?!’ I asked, laughing at myself… this sea fog was clearly in for the duration!! I sat mildly frustrated for a while, in the car park at Blythe, just looking out on a drab view that was fading into obscurity. I shook myself down again, and did go to check possible spots, and once again took a picture with my mobile just for reference (see blogger head) – but I didn’t waste time checking anything else out. There was a lighthouse here that I needed to find, but it was invisible to me today and I felt that it just wasn’t worth it for now. Within half an hour I was on the road again, this time I gave up and headed inland proper. One of the locations I knew I needed to check out in advance, was near Hadrian’s wall, so sod this for a game of soldiers, this fog had fooled me enough today!!!

I got to Steel Rigg car park at 6, but in my unfit state, it took the best part of an hour to actually get to Sycamore gap. This was partly because I decided that as I was here I would actually walk the wall, and the hike up and down the steep crags was HARD work. I am a plodder anyway, and I was in no hurry to be fair, stopping every 5 mins to take in the view (alright… yes… and to breathe!!) The sky was a mix of clear blue patches and cloud, and the horizon had a lovely orange tint to it, even this early – was I in for an amazing sunset I wondered?!! I met another photographer, Steve, and we chatted for a short while, before he headed off towards a hill further on, having no intention of stopping at the tree. I did stop at Sycamore gap when I got there though, because it was such a gorgeous spot, despite all the people here. Its no wonder this location is photographed as often as it is – its perfectly balanced, and the tree is a stunning example of a sycamore! After a while I moved on, since there was still loads of time, and I continued my plod to meet Steve up the hill overlooking a cottage and Crag Lough. The view was lovely, but definitely needed light. I took the photo anyway, hoping to recapture this view with a bit of sunlight across the scene, on my trip next time. This was just my scouting one for now. As the evening progressed, Steve and I took a slow walk back to the tree, getting there as the sun started to set. All the tourists had gone by now, and other than sheep walking through the scene, there was nothing to spoil it. The clouds went a light pink – then all the colour just faded into blue hour without any added drama – much to our disappointment. We still managed to capture some lovely photos however.

With the light now fading, the two of us headed back to the car park, following a different route back (the Pennine way – a route that doesn’t involve the up and down hikes over the crags!) Steve suddenly pulled up short. ‘I cant go that way’ he said as he looked ahead. I followed his gaze. The gate and the style at the wall in front of us, had about 8 cows crowded right up to them. He told me that he’d had a really scary incident where he had been chased by cows, and that he was not comfortable near them now – well, OK – Yes – he was terrified of them. He would have to take the hike (up and down the hills) back from this spot. For me however, my feet were hurting by now, so I told him I would be fine continuing this way and I’d see him back at the car park. Truth be told, I was WAYYYY more scared of the pain climbing the steep hills, than I was of these bovine girls. I went on ahead, climbed the style and started chatting to the cows, confidently asking them to move out of the way, because I was going to come through, then I just started forward, being bossy and verbal with them all. They all moved to the side dutifully, and I just strode through. A minute later, Steve was walking at a far faster stride by my side. I chuckled and made a playful comment about him not wanting to be outdone by an old girl, and he hastened his speed, laughing but pretending to ignore my comment. We all know of course, he was just being the gentleman and was making sure that this irresponsible old girl wasn’t getting into trouble with the wild animals… don’t we…?!! In all seriousness, I applaud his bravery in following me, and in beating his fear on this evening.

Back at the car park, we swapped Instagram details, and both went our separate ways. I went back to Fred, and since it was now quite late, I decided that I would stay the night and leave for home in the early hours. Driving through the night while I was this tired would be stupid, unnecessary and dangerous. I climbed into bed but my feet were so painful that sleep was very fitful – with stabbing pains shooting across the soles of my feet constantly waking me.

At 3am I woke again, and saw daylight beginning to seep through the curtains. I looked outside to see the early pre light, with a beautiful pink glow on the horizon, and stunning light mists over by the hills. Since sleep was being a struggle, I made the quick decision to just get up and capture the view from where I was. My feet screamed at me as I dressed, grabbed my kit and hobbled over the road, but I ignored them… this was too beautiful to miss!

I spent an hour and a half just standing here in the silent, chill, air, photographing the mists rising and falling. I heard the birds wake and sing, watched the cows on a distant hill grazing peacefully, undisturbed, I filmed a spider on a gate, building his web for the day, and watched the sun gently rise. I just soaked up the incredible experience of being here, right now, as the whole world woke up to a brand new day. The peace I felt was immeasurable, filling my soul with something it had been lacking, and it was all for me alone to witness. There are no words to describe how this felt.

Once the sun had climbed high enough, I went back to bed and slept well until 9, when, far more refreshed, I finally got myself ready and drove home.