Shifting mist

I think it’s fair to say that pretty much all woodland photographers love a bit of mist. Mist transforms a patch of trees from something that is already beautiful into something quite ethereal. Mist and fog, or indeed light drizzle, provides separation, helping the foreground trees stand apart from what can sometimes be a chaotic background. So, any woodland photographer who knows there’s mist in the forecast, naturally gets quite excited. I am no exception.

On a day in mid-January, all the forecasts were pointing towards dense fog. When that happens, the first thing I do on waking is peer out of the window to see if what was promised has come true. That’s tough at this time of year, since it’s pitch black outside when I get up, but staring and squinting into the dark, you can sometimes make out evidence of that illusive phenomenon. On this particular morning, things were looking pretty good.

I have two options when it’s going to be foggy. One is to head into one of three or four local woodlands and see what I can find. The other is to head up onto my local little hill and peer down on the fog from above. This is one of my favourite photographic activities. To stand on a hillside, watching the mist and fog shift around below, slowly revealing and concealing different clusters of trees is just wonderful. The fun then comes in trying to spot compositions as the trees start to appear, and then getting the camera pointing where it needs to and the image framed up, before it’s lost to the ever-changing mist. It’s a game I could play for hours… if I had temperature-resistant fingers!

On this particular morning it was bitterly cold. Stunningly beautiful but cold. The sun was rising casting colours on the landscape all around, and I worked to collect a few compositions before I could no longer feel my fingers and before the sun rose fully.

Even when this had happened, it would have been great to stay around for longer, watching the mist swirl in and out. However, the warmth of home was calling, as was the need to get back to my desk to start the working day.

These images are a selection of those made on that brief, magical morning.

An Arctic blast

The past week and a bit have been pretty special up here in the Lake District. It all started a couple of days after new year, with falling temperatures and the ground starting to freeze.

Bowfell and the Scafell range from Swirl How.

This was then followed by a big dump of snow and then the best part of a week of very cold temperatures, not really getting above freezing for days on end.

Towards the end of the day, on the summit of Great End, looking towards Scafell Pike.

As a result, over that week, we were blessed with snow and ice, mist and fog, and some beautiful light to boot. The beginning of this cold period coincided with some days off work for my wife and I, and thus the chance to get out into the hills of the Lake District, where we live. Two consecutive big mountain days - one in the Scafell range and another in the Coniston range were a real treat.

Trees, mist, mountains and snow, with a bit of nice light thrown in for good measure - the dream combination.

The snow that followed fell over a weekend, and then the start of super-cold, crisp and clear conditions coincided with the return to work sadly. However, the location of my home means that I’m able to get out onto smaller hills very easily, and have the summit of Latterbarrow within a 30-35 minute walk. As a result, I am able to get a quick photography-fix around sunrise, and get back to my desk in time to start work at the usual time.

Trees, frost and mist - I was like a kid in a sweet shop.

The higher peaks visible from Latterbarrow, as well as the surrounding trees and forests are a paradise for me. This combination, coupled with some great light and a bit of fog and mist for good measure, really led to a special few days.

‘Standing together’.

Being on Latterbarrow, or somewhere else similar for sunrise four days on the bounce, as well as doing full days of work was pretty tiring, but I kept telling myself that I couldn’t let this opportunity pass. The winters in the north-west of the UK are often characterised by damp, grey conditions, so this spell of magical weather had to be grasped. I’m very pleased that I did.

The Fairfield Horseshoe from the summit of Latterbarrow, just before sunrise.

Towards the end of the week, the forecast was that the last day of these winter conditions would be on the Saturday, before things started to warm up. My wife and I were due to attend an old friend’s 50th birthday celebration on the Saturday evening, but we decided that with another early start, we could squeeze in one last big mountain day in these magical conditions. Parking in Ambleside for the famous Fairfield Horseshoe is just a 10 minute drive from us, so an early start saw us up on the ridge for some truly spectacular light.

Light on distant mountains.

The night before, I had hesitated about bringing my 100-400mm lens. It’s a bit of a beast, and we had wanted to move quickly. However, I’m so glad I did. This lens (in the Nikon Z range) is just spectacular. Everytime I use it I am blown away by its quality. The detail is just wonderful, and coupled with the Nikon Z7ii, it really allowed me to capture the atmosphere of what I was seeing and feeling.

Bowfell, from the western limb of the Fairfield Horseshoe.

It was pretty special to be up there, witnessing all this, and I’m pleased with the images that I managed to take too.

Crinkle Crags, Bowfell, the Scafell range and Great End, from the western limb of the Fairfield Horseshoe.

Writing this now, a couple of days later, I am looking out the window at a very wet and grey view. I’m so pleased to have been able to capitalise on these great conditions.

A new dawn

This is my first ever blog post! It’s something I thought I might start doing at some point, and with the launch of my newly revamped website, the time seemed right. This is going to be an ocassional thing, so they will appear sporadically - either when I’ve got something potentially interesting to say, or when I want to report on a recent photographic trip.

Early one morning from the slope of Latterbarrow (my local little hill) in the Lake District.

I’m writing this now on a cold January day, and kind of wishing I’d started doing this sooner. I’ve got several previous trips that I’d quite like to document - for example, a wild photographic trip to the Faroe Islands almost exactly a year ago, and a month spent in Greenland in summer 2024 (a work trip, but one which offered plenty of photographic opportunities). I think that I might therefore use this platform to retrospectively report on those too.

So, I hope these blogs prove to be interesting and of value. Please do let me know your thoughts - on the writing and my images, which you’ll find elsewhere on this website.

Thanks.