Tag: night photography

#365daysofbiking Fragility

January 29th – The tribulations of the previous day were over with, and had gone well. I was still tired though, as I’d been nil-by-mouth for 24 hours and recovery was harder than I remembered it. After tea I braved a small spin around the canal and Clayhanger Common.

I wasn’t really up to it if I’m honest. But it was good to be out.

It seemed a good opportunity to continue the long exposure theme – the chance to stand and get my energy back was real, and waiting for the camera gave me an excuse I suppose.

Hopefully, tomorrow I will feel more like it.

This journal is moving home. Find out more by clicking here

from Tumblr https://ift.tt/2teCY19
via IFTTT

#365daysofbiking Feeling exposed

January 29th – Up on the old Cement Works Bridge, time to have a think and play with long exposure photography. With the lightening morning sky the results were remarkable.

I love how the trees seem out of focus as their extremities moved with the wind.

It was going to be a tough day. But at least I’d captured something interesting to kick it all off.

This journal is moving home. Find out more by clicking here

from Tumblr https://ift.tt/318dqPy
via IFTTT

#365daysofbiking Life by water

January 28th – By the time I got to Whitehorse Road/Wharf Lane, things felt a bit better. My trepidation was still there, but night was coming in now and the light was altogether better, friendlier and more comforting. And the wind seemed to be subsiding.

There’s a current Canal and River trust campaign about life being better close to water. They’re not wrong, actually.

This journal is moving home. Find out more by clicking here

from Tumblr https://ift.tt/2td5Ned
via IFTTT

#365daysofbiking The twilight hour

January 28th – I was due to have a medical procedure next day.I’d left work early so I could make a start and prepare – I had medicine to take soon which meant I wouldn’t be able to stray far from home for long for a while, so a quick loop up the canal to Newtown and back.

At Ogley Junction, the scenery was stark and bleak as night descended.

I like this spot normally. Admittedly, far nicer on a sunny, warm day, but tonight it left me feeling empty and tired.

Perhaps it was the anxiousness for the following day kicking in – I couldn’t really tell.

The twilight hour can be such an unreliable friend.

This journal is moving home. Find out more by clicking here

from Tumblr https://ift.tt/2S3QdtR
via IFTTT

#365daysofbiking I can see clearly now

January 27th – I returned that evening in half-light and as I got to Brownhills, I couldn’t resist a shot of the canal at Silver Street from a bit of a different angle.

Night had fallen but it was the most clear, dry glistening evening I’d seen for a while. Not a trace of anything in the air. It was glass hard clear, and beautiful with it.

An area that’s nice enough by day becomes golden and almost mysterious by night.

The lights on the boat looked really welcoming, too…

This journal is moving home. Find out more by clicking here

from Tumblr https://ift.tt/316YcKT
via IFTTT

#365daysofbiking Wood and heart


January 26th – And there it were – gone. With neither a thank you nor a goodnight, the mist upped and left, and Sunday was damp, wet but mercifully clear with an appreciable wind.

The air was clearer. I could breath again without feeling that grip on my chest from traffic fumes.

I came back from helping a pal in the early evening, and stopped for the cashpoint in the High Street. It was quiet. The takeaways were doing trade, the pubs seemed alive, but traffic was light and this still identifiable ex-mining village straddling the Walsall to Lichfield Road slumbered peacefully.

I like Walsall Wood. I always have. It’s not prepossessing, exotic or flash. But it has soul and warmth and always looks welcoming at night.

It’ll always have a bit of my heart.

This journal is moving home. Find out more by clicking here

from Tumblr https://ift.tt/3aW7iyv
via IFTTT

#365daysofbiking Bending the light

January 25th – The mist still hadn’t lifted, and in fact it seemed to be becoming more dense.

I’d been over to Burntwood for an errand, and came back via Chasewater after dark, getting some shopping in on the way. As I rattled down the bumpy north shore path where it runs between the Rugby Club and Chasetown Bypass, concerned for the fragility of my purchases, I noticed the curving ‘wall of light’ effect of the streetlights on the fog, bending away from me like I was repelling it.

It was one of those moments when an unexpected, mundane scene caught a unique light and became precious.

Like Clayhanger did  a few days before. Low cloud does have its benefits, I guess.

This journal is moving home. Find out more by clicking here

from Tumblr https://ift.tt/319LElJ
via IFTTT

#365daysofbiking Diffuse

January 23rd – The murk continued through the next day, too, and it was beginning to get on my chest. Cycling in it, with it’s grim cocktail of traffic fumes, damp, road spray and smog is not inspiring.

However, I had to nip up to Coppice Side on the way home to see a pal. As I crossed the old Jolly Collier bridge, the urban lights and mist combined to make something special.

The diffuse glow of the gas discharge lamps suddenly made a very ordinary place extraordinary, and I was captivated.

This journal is moving home. Find out more by clicking here

from Tumblr https://ift.tt/36KdBlo
via IFTTT

#365daysofbiking Mist but not missed


January 22nd – This is a very strange winter we’re having. I hope spring and summer prove more traditional. It’s not really been very cold, but it’s been horrendously wet. I’m so used to rain now that it barely surprises or bothers me, and I think I’m developing a love of it, like some weird meteorological Stockholm syndrome.

At the moment, the warm damp is masquerading as a heavy, cloying mist-drizzle that’s settled here for the best part of a week, really. It’s grimy and horrible to ride in, and is also keeping the fumes and smell down from the local landfills and industry, making the whole atmosphere feel dirty and polluted.

Leaving Bloxwich station I passed a couple of the town’s many backstreet boozers: The venerable Romping Cat, as classic a Black Country pub as one could find, and the more boisterous Spotted Cow, which despite a chequered history, hangs on as a popular local’s pub.

In the murky, nasty mist they looked beautifully warm and welcoming. I could have slipped in there and then for a pint.

But this wasn’t 1995, and that isn’t the current version of me. So I admired these watering holes from the street, remembered fondly long gone days with workmates and their many, many post-work pints, then rode home.

This journal is moving home. Find out more by clicking here

from Tumblr https://ift.tt/2UbuO4M
via IFTTT

#365daysofbiking Sometimes the darkness is your friend

January 21st – Returning home from Bloxwich through Clayhanger, I took the Spot Path back to Brownhills rather than the usually manic and stressful Pelsall Road, the main reason I don’t usually go that way. As I left the village and headed up over the common, I found myself totally alone in the dark.

It was murky and drizzly and there wasn’t a soul about. I could hear distant traffic, dogs, the sounds of people on the new estate over the back – but compared to the ride I’d just had, this was blessed solitude.

This is never a particularly beautiful spot by day. It’s OK, it’s nice enough. But it’s at night that it’s specialness comes to the fore.

Sometimes the lonely dark can actually be reassuringly companiable.

This journal is moving home. Find out more by clicking here

from Tumblr https://ift.tt/2RDclLy
via IFTTT