I was leaving it a bit late. Less than an hour ago, Ali had persuaded me that we should jump in the sea, even though the air was noticeably cooler than it had been earlier. The sea is supposed to be at its warmest in September, or rather at its least freezing cold, but if I didn’t know the place so well, I’d have sworn we’d somehow been magically transported to a northern Baltic shore as we waded into the water. We didn’t stay in long, although Ali would like you to know that she was first in and last out, if only by a minute or two on either side of my very brief dip. By the time our teeth had stopped chattering and we’d headed back to the van for a very quick supper, the golden hour was well and truly at large, so I raced off to the rocks by the lighthouse where I’d been earlier in the day. I found another new composition with a lot more dark rock in it than usual, took a shot that I’m still umming and ahhing over, watched the patches of golden light disappear from the cracks and edges of the black shelf, and hastened my footsteps up to the tried and tested sunset spot that usually offers something at this time of year.
It’s a perfect example of why I keep coming back to the same places. I've taken and posted quite a number of shots from this exact viewpoint over the years. Several more from only a few yards away. Just a few weeks ago I posted a story from the same patch of rocky clifftop that I was standing on now. Of course the subject is the same, but even at a similar focal length, a change of crop, shutter speed and sunset hour light can produce a completely different image, not to mention the ever shifting tides and textures of the sea. It’s such a simple composition too, always beguiling whatever the weather happens to be doing. On pleasant evenings like this, especially in the summer months, it’s like a viewing gallery up here, small groups sitting on the grass looking out to sea, while groups of gulls float past the headland, often close up and at eye level, wailing into the sunset. More often than not these days, you’ll bump into a tog or two, standing over their tripods, waiting for the right moment.
This time, what was particularly catching my eye was just how silvery the sea looked. Really it’s quite amazing how many different colours the sea takes on in Cornwall throughout the seasons, from every shade of blue imaginable, to deep bottle greens, slate greys, to velvety purples and brooding blacks. But today, the overriding theme was silver and pastel blushes of pink on the clouds, water and around the yellow horizon. A simple palette and a simple composition so often combine in the most beautiful ways, whatever the colour scheme happens to be. Another great thing about late September and this particular viewpoint is where the sun drops to balance the lighthouse in the shot. Last time I took a shot here at the end of July, it was still just about setting on the right hand side.
I was a bit surprised to turn around and reach for my filters, only to find that I had a visitor sharing the small corner shelf of the clifftop with me. Perhaps he’d seen me down here and decided to join the fun, although it’s a spot I’ve only ever been at alone before now. Eventually, although I was still trying to concentrate on squeezing something from the last few drops of colour in the sky, a conversation struck up. A chap down here with his wife on holiday from Hampshire; staying at the nearby farm campsite (where we used to spend a couple of weeks each summer as kids too); comes for a fortnight every year; yes I am a local; yes I live about ten miles away and I come here all the time, all of that. “You’re so lucky to live here,” he finished as the light finally gave up and I began to put the camera away. “Don’t ever take it for granted.” The funny thing is that I used to do exactly that - it was just home as far as I was concerned. Somewhere I had to make a living and put a roof over my children's heads. Although that’s never been true of this place, not since I came under its spell as a teenager when I was first brought here well over forty years ago. It took landscape photography for me to fall in love with the rest of my home county, although I’ve never taken Godrevy for granted. That deal was done right from the start. This place has been in my blood from the moment I saw it.
And having said all of that, it’s time for a brief hiatus as we abandon Cornwall and head off on a holiday of our own for a while. I’m looking forward to swimming in a much warmer Mediterranean Sea, exploring new places, just feeling some sun on my face after this dismal summer for goodness’ sake, and maybe even taking a few pictures. But when we’ve got this to come back to afterwards, the journey home is never something to be feared.
