Deep Woods And Soggy Pants

Morning folks - well, decorating and DIY were put aside for a brief four days of holidays in the Borders (of Scotland). It's an area we know well and love very much.

The feel is very different to the West side of the South Of Scotland, which is quite wild with less obvious history. 

The East Borders are easily distinguishable by the mark the Romans made in trying to conquer Scotia, that is, lots of forts, earthworks and a series of roads which span millenia. 

The main of these is Dere Street, which stretches from York all the way to Edinburgh and was a proper Shanks' Motorway for hundreds of years. 

It is now partly called "The Pilgrim's Way."

You can get a fantastic idea of the post-Roman period in history by reading Rosemary Sutcliffe's (ostensibly for 'children') trilogy: "The Eagle Of The Ninth", "The Silver Branch" and "The Lantern Bearers". 

They're largely dismissed these days as being historically inaccurate and a bit twee, however, as a lifelong reader I can honestly say, of any of the billion books I have ever read, these throw you full-on into the dung and stench of the early, post-AD period; you can feel the pain, terror and sheer excitement of battle; the smell of woodsmoke and cooking fires; the wear of daily travail; the clank of armour coming over a distant moor - you get my drift - they're Time Machines.

A remarkable achievement by a lady who was wheelchair bound for all her life and could only wander afar in her imagination. 

Highly recommended.

Anyway, back to the main monkey-business - you wanna banana Choppers? 

Yooz got it.

I've often found on country holidays that the easiest way to get anything satisfactory, photographically, is NOT to go for The Grand View. 

Fuggedaboudit. 

No point. 

Everybody's doin' it, doin' it, doin' it.

Pickin' their nose and chewin' it, chewin' it, chewin' it. 

(Sorry, you obviously didn't go to the same school as I did where the aforementioned ditty was much popular in about 1969.)

To me Grand Views leave me as cold as anything.

They're just foul interpretations of the immense beauty of nature. Granted it is hard to stuff all that wonder into a small lens and thence onto a sensor or film, but tbh, they've been done sooooooo many times, is there really any other point to them other than to prove you were there?

I think the Grand View really dilutes the power of Landscape Photography.

You have to feel a place before it can talk back to you.

My solution?

Immerse yourself in what is literally just outside the door of your cottage, caravan, hotel, tent, whatever.

Check the Ordnance Survey map of your locality. 

Bing Maps Aerial Views are pretty good too, but to my mind an OS can make sense of features you haven't got a scooby about.

See something interesting? (in the case of my recent holiday, an Iron Age Earthwork on a promontory on a very minor river) find it and photograph it and its environs.

It is far more satisfying to be able to say to yourself:

"I doubt anyone has ever taken a picture here before!"

Honest - try it and see.

So there I was, after an afternoon of really heavy, thundery showers, desperate to get the tripod and camera out and get out for a small photograph.

We had an earlyish tea, I donned suitable outdoor gear, and out I went. 

Full sundown was around 8 PM and I was out about 6.30.

I think I have described the gloaming before - it is a wonderful Scots word for that time when the world is just nestling down into darkness. 

It, to me, also encompasses the brief period before sunset when things start to quieten a lot. 

Birds set themselves down; small mists lift themselves free of grassland; rivers take on a loud rushing which is totally different to normal daytime. 

You can feel the peace coming on.

It is my most favourite time of the day to take photographs. 

Light changes quickly; aside from everything getting darker, you need to take into account that pretty much every frame will be different. 

You also need to work quickly and methodically. 

No farting about. 

Know Your Onions (as my Dad used to say).

Jane's Wood 1

As you can see from the above, despite the sun star, the light was falling fast - what you can still see of the sun was just cresting the woods on the other side of the gorge and literally I had minutes before the whole place settled itself into deep gloom.

I am happy with the print - it is hard to capture soft light like that without being underexposed or printing too heavily - you need a measure of low contrast just to keep things down a bit.

Film was FP4 developed in HC 110 on Dilution B. I printed it in Ilford MGRC. 

My camera was the Hasselblad 500 C/M and the lens was the newish and totally wonderful 40mm Distagon. 

Compared to the Biogon on the SW, it captures the same amount of detail (which is vast - easily the equivalent of 5x4 if not more so) but is slightly contrastier and doesn't have the same 'air' that the Biogon has.

I put this down to the coating and also that it is more than 10 years younger, and of course a different design. 

I love it though and for landscape it is far easier to compose with than the Biogon.

Jane's Wood 2

The small, overgrown path down to the gorge passed an iron age fort (as mentioned above - it was sited in a marvellous and easy to defend position) and entered a wood called 'Jane's Wood'. 

It was planted in memory of a young woman, Jane Thornton, who died in 1984. 

It is all small Oaks, though obviously they're growing, and the place has an air of total peace. 

Jane and I would be of similar ages, and I wondered to myself how she died. I also, felt entirely humbled by the fact that someone would plant a whole Oak Wood in her remembrance. 

What a beautiful tribute to a life cut short, and weirdly, it was almost as if her spirit imbued the place with a certain something. 

Of course that could just be donkey shite on my behalf, but I actually truly think I stumbled upon that spirit of place I always look for.

As she had been raised on one of the nearby farms, I assume she must have loved the place too. 

The route down, was, as they'd say "A Well Ken't Road" as, at the bottom, there are the remains of a truly ancient bridge - I'd put it back to 17th or even 16th Century. It's tumbled and gone though.

I got to the bottom of the gorge and managed to finish off the rest of the film in difficult circumstances. I've not included them here because they don't have the same soft, gloamy feel.

I was pretty much soaked to the skin and deeply sweating too (it was quite a climb down through slippery wet vegetation) but being next to a river at dusk is just about my favourite thing in the whole world and I got the feel of this small, yet quick river, deep into me.

Certainly near where we were staying there was plenty of camera fodder, but in being careful and using maps and intuition to explore before setting out, I got lucky and chanced upon a feeling and an unexpected place I shall never forget.

God bless Jane, and thank you.

The above print, was another difficult one and I had to print on Grade 4.5, as, even though I'd compensated for reciprocity in my exposure, the light was outrunning that factor if you get my drift.

Again FP 4 in Dilution B and printed on Ilford MGRC.

And tha-tha-that's it folks - be good and watch out for those tripod ruts.

H xx