Norfolk

Click on an image to start slide show with titles.
The stories behind some of the photographs are towards the bottom of the page.

It’s hard to find a fresh way of photographing the pier. It’s an iconic structure and has been photographed numerous times.
Here I got lucky with a spectacular sunset and a dramatic sky, which dramatised something I had not noticed before – the pink house.

The sun had not been long above the horizon when I took this photograph.
I was struck by the way the sunlight illuminated the cliffs. I thought this is worth a shot.
Then I noticed the surfer coming towards me, he added a sense of scale to the cliffs.
As he passed by we passed the time of day. Turns out he lived in Cromer and worked in Sheringham and was surfing to work.
I thought… only in Norfolk.

I was testing a long lens and thought if the dog lead is sharp, it’s a good lens.
Then the riders came out of the Sea Roke, you may call it a Sea Frett or Sea Mist, depends where you are from.
Photography isn’t difficult, mostly it’s a case of being there.
And yes, the dog lead is sharp. 

I was trying a different view of the pier, so I figured I do some monochromes.
They were OK, but I wanted something more and tried an old printing technique.
Tri-tones, in this case it’s three inks, cyan, brown and black.

I took two or three photographs of the pier and the sky, one of them was a long time exposure.
The difference in the drama of the colour in the sky was quite remarkable.
I guess Turneresque is the word.
Well what do you think, did he?

It was dusk and we had just had a spectacular shower of rain. What struck me was how the white benches stood out against The troubled sea and dark sky. 
While I was focusing on the benches this chap with an umbrella walked past. I was vaguely annoyed and thought I’ll have to do that shot again.
Big mistake.
Ask Jo at The Red Lion what she thinks.

I think this was taken in the summer, although you would be forgiven for thinking it was the middle of winter.
I wondered if people might find it a bit glum for their walls, but it’s proved popular.
We are an Island race, which means when the sun comes out, we make the most of it.

I think this was taken in the summer, although you would be forgiven for thinking it was the middle of winter.
I wondered if people might find it a bit glum for their walls, but it’s proved popular.
We are an Island race, which means when the sum comes out, we make the most of it.

Sometimes when the storms blow in, you wonder how the pier stands up to it.
And then the Lifeboat crew who launch from the end of the pier, you wonder how they stand up to it.

This photograph was taken from the cliff top path in Cromer.
A sudden storm approached, luckily I was carrying a small compact camera with me. A Sigma 2DP, the resolution of this small camera is phenomenal. 
Seconds later the rain it.

This photograph was taken at Happisburgh, a much battered village along the Norfolk coast. Great chunks of it have disappeared into the sea.
This day had very rough seas, but it’s hard to get a decent composition of the waves, you find you have pressed the shutter a tad to early, or a tad too late.
Here I got lucky.

Each year the Household Cavalry come up to Norfolk for training, at some point they take their horses on to Holkham sands, unsaddle them and ride them bareback into the surf; it’s a sight not to be missed.
I had permission from the Colonel of the Regiment to go behind the scenes to photograph the Troopers at work.
This particular photograph won me a commendation in Landscape Photographer of the Year.

Probably one of the easiest photographs I’ve ever taken.
Walking down to The Red Lion one summer’s evening and saw the sailing boat slowly going past. The sea was calm, the waves couldn’t be bothered to come ashore. All I had to do was wait for the surf to form a more or less straight line, and then go for a well earned pint.

I’d spent a glorious day trying to photograph stuff at Morston Quay. Except I had no glorious photographs, absolutely nothing. Beautiful light completely wasted.
Dejected I made my way back home and stopped at West Runton. The sun had gone down, but the sky looked interesting. 
This was a fifteen minute exposure. I was shocked when I got home to see I had finally made the most of the light.

I’d seen this tree before on a previous trip out into this part of the countryside, and I’d made my mind to go back and visit it when the conditions were right.
I returned early one frosty February morning. The tree was there waiting for me and she didn’t disappoint.