Legends of the Bay - a photo on Flickriver

Legends of the Bay

            Mostly we hid behind the rocks, patiently waiting out the brisk volleys of rain that were driving straight towards us and hampering good intentions.  At one moment I was caught in the deluge, a rapidly spreading sensation telling me that I might have put my waterproof trousers on rather than carrying them around in the bag.  At least the camera was hidden under a shower cap, liberated from some budget hotel bathroom earlier in the year. As the heavens abated, I pulled the trousers on in undignified fashion before putting the bright yellow rain repelling backpack cover onto the camera bag.  Feeling slightly damp on the inside, I clambered over the rocks to where the others were quietly plotting.  At least I wouldn't get any wetter now. “You take this business quite seriously don’t you?” said Brian.  “Well I’m among giants.  I need to put on a good show today,” I replied.  To which my colleagues chuckled gently and muttered in self deprecation.  But I was in the company of two photographers whose work I’ve long admired, no matter how much they might protest at my attempts to flatter. I had no intention of letting the side down.  I hope I didn’t fail them.

Finally, after some years of exchanging banter and passing comment on one another’s posts, I was meeting a man who brings a warm smile to so many of us as we read the latest outlandish tale about village life somewhere up the north coast, and giggle at the meandering yarns on the subject of his wandering menagerie.  A menagerie that was noticeable by its absence on this particular outing, I might add.  “Where were Horace and Hoof?” we asked.  “Hiding indoors,” appeared to be the answer to that one.  Today, courtesy of Lloyd, another Flickr luminary with whom I’ve become good friends on his last few visits to Cornwall, here was a certain Mr Pedlar, standing in the rain on Holywell Bay Beach beside his tripod, chattering away happily about life, the universe, the great mirrorless debate and all that.  None of us had ventured across the gear divide just yet, and we each agreed that what we were using still did the job well enough.  With a quiet modesty, the King of Trebormint Strand merely thanked me with a shy smile as I gushed my enthusiasm over some of his recent shots.  Such is his generosity that he even offered me the loan of the set of spare clothes he always keeps in the car for when the conditions get a bit fruity.  

As we loitered in the shelter of the rocks, Lloyd or I would occasionally break ranks to explore the possibilities and line up potential compositions.  This was Lloyd’s first visit as a tog, and he was understandably keen to size the place up before the light got interesting.  I had my eye on another watery foreground image, having brought the same gear that had failed when I was here with Steve on a hot September evening a couple of months earlier.  Happily the fault seems to have gone away now. And while we occasionally buzzed about with photographic intent, Brian just waited.  “Fifteen minutes,” he replied when I asked him whether the camera was coming out today.  Each time I went out, I was soon sent scurrying back as rain spots appeared on the image in the viewfinder.

In the event we all lined up in a row, twenty or thirty yards between us as what colour there was bounced off the glistening sand and back into the clouds. And for fifteen or twenty minutes the rain stayed away, spreading over the sea but sparing us and our cameras any further soakings as we took our shots. As the clouds darkened, a bright patch of reflected light remained, keeping us behind the viewfinder until a final squall brought proceedings to an end. 

Contentedly, we trooped back across the beach towards the car park, glad to have been out here on a day like this, embracing the elements and chewing the cud.  Well, chewing flaky steak pasties from the Cornish Oven anyway.  At least Lloyd and I were.  From Brian’s description, his own lunch had been rather more organic.  But although you know him to be a man of few words, I’ll let him tell you all about that.

Taken in: UK / England / Cubert / Holywell Bay (show map)

Taken on: November 6, 2023

Tags:

Holywell Bay

Newquay

carter's

rocks

Sea

seascape

sea shore

sea stack

sea stacks

Reflection

Cloud

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Cornwall

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ukcoast

British Coast

cornish coast

Kernow

Kernowfornia

November

winter

golden hour

Britain

Great Britain

England

wide angle

West Country

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Sets appears in: • Holywell Bay • Explored

Groups appears in: • Cornwall • Atlantic Ocean more » • Devon & Cornwall • Cornwall - Kernow • Cornwall Flickr Users • Breathtaking Landscapes B&W and Color • Photography Week • HIMMELSBILDER - SKY • in explore • phenomenAgraphy • WONDERS OF PHOTOGRAPHY IN GENERAL.MARAVILLAS DE LA FOTOGRAFIA EN « less

Camera: Canon EOS 80D, f/11.0, 1 sec, 16mm, ISO 100 (more info) (hide info)

Camera:	Canon EOS 80D
Lens:	Tokina AT-X 116 PRO DX II 11-16mm F2.8
Aperture:	f/11.0
Exposure Time:	1
Focal Length:	16mm
ISO:	100
Exposure Bias:	0 EV
Flash:	Off, Did not fire
Exposure Program:	Aperture-priority AE
Exposure Mode:	Auto
Metering Mode:	Multi-segment
White Balance:	Auto
Color Space:	Uncalibrated
Software:	Adobe Photoshop Lightroom Classic 13.1 (Windows)
Show full info

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