Tag: night photography

January 10th – I keep forgetting to take photos in Birmingham. I pass through it every day, and am still failing to look at it properly. The New Bullring and Selfridges are classic night photography shots; probably cliched by now – but I liked the angle from Moor Street; that the whole thing was viewed from a restored, beautiful Victorian railway station, with the camera tripod wound around genuine old railings. The steam engine – supplied by Tyseley Railway Museum is a nice touch, too, although the track it stands on isn’t connected to anything.

January 9th – I’d been working indoors all day, and ended up working late. I’d not seen the sky or daylight since 9:15am, so when I sped away from work at 8pm, I was shocked to find Birmingham wearing a low, thin mist. As I headed northwards home, the mist thickened, until, upon alighting the train at Shentone, I realised it was quite a serious fog. It was patchy, and in the country lanes through Stonnall, in places very dense indeed. I rode on my nerves, straining to look for headlights or unseen hazards, water vapour condensing in my hair and on my face.

Riding in heavy fog is hard work and uncomfortable. Hope it’s gone by morning…

January 4th – Walsall and it’s boroughs can be very, very odd sometimes. Here in Walsall Wood, the planning system threw up a peculiar juxtaposition. Oak Park is the local leisure centre, with a large car park at the front, itself fronted once by an expanse of grass. Over the road, a private health centre converted from a former night club. Inbetween the two, a Kentucky Fried Chicken drive through was built, as if to mock the punters attempting to keep fit.

The construction of this unusually located fast food joint was protracted, and difficulties  in planning were extensive, but there it now sits in its red and white illuminated, plastic glory, attracting far more customers than both its healthy neighbours combined ever could.

And it smells revolting.

January 4th – There was a bit of a psychological barrier I had to cross: I wanted to still do this, but I think I’d mentally prepared myself to stop; so like slowing down on a bike as you reach the bottom of a hill, you’re robbed of momentum and it takes you a while to build it back up. I found it hard to take pictures. This I know, will pass; I’ve had it before. It’s like I’m trying to deny myself something.

I reflected on this whilst stopped at the lights coming from Walsall that evening. The nights already seem to be opening out, and I had hat feeling that Christmas was way behind. But two days of work had left me strangely enervated. Life is odd sometimes. When the lights changed, I just hunched over and went for it. 

Sometimes, that’s the only thing to do. 

January 3rd – This is the entry I wasn’t going to make. I really wasn’t going to continue. Then, I had my mind changed. You can read about that later today on my main blog.

So when it came to actually taking pictures for it, I was still wrestling with whether I should or not on the way home. So, with the gorillapod at the bottom of a tea-logged saddlebag (don’t ask) I headed for the industrial estate on Maybrook Road, Walsall Wood, and then checked out the rapidly decaying Wheel inn, nearby on Lindon Road.

There’s something about the actual act of taking photos I like. It gives me a buzz. I guess, in the daily grind, and terrible weather over Christmas, I’d forgotten that. The joy of the hunt. The pleasure in finding a really good photo.

Sadly, I think it rather eluded me today.

But hey, tomorrow is another day, and tomorrow never, ever knows…

January 2nd – I rounded the bend towards Brownhills, and the overflow near the Pier Street Bridge caught my eye. Only a few days ago, this was a raging torrent, flooding the land behind, struggling to cope with the downpours that had constantly filled the canal. Tonight, it was quiet, a relative trickle. The land behind was still saturated, but draining, slowly. There was very little sound. I thought about it for a while. The transitory nature of the water, about beginnings, endings and direction.

You see, today, It was the end of 365daysofbiking. I started this odd mission on April 1st, 2011, after being cajoled into it by fellow cyclist Renee Van Baar, originally only for 30 days. I enjoyed those 30, and resolved to do a whole year, but last new year I was very ill indeed. I missed two days laid up, and returned to the bike on the 2nd of January 2012. So, the mission is now complete, but I have cycled all but two days out of 21 months.

I’m quite proud of that, but more later. Is this where the story ends?

January 2nd – So, back to normal. The festivities over, Christmas decorations down, the rain, just for now, gone. This time last year I was struggling to ride at all. This Christmas has been a little odd: very little riding for the sake of it, and fearsome bad weather. I’m hoping for a better new year; maybe we’ll get a proper summer this time, not just warmer rain, although on the canal in Brownhills, early evening, early January, it was warm, clear and dry. Perhaps it’s a good sign.

December 31st – I returned to the top of the Black Path in Brownhills, where I’d accidentally found the flooding on the previous Saturday evening. This time I had a decent camera and could record the fact that, stood in the middle of the pool, was a lit and working street light. I suppose the connection point is above water level, but even still, it seems remarkable. The remainder of Holland Park still seemed rather waterlogged too.

I’m hoping now for a period of stable, dry weather to dry things out a bit. Wonder if I’ll be lucky?

December 31st – Sometimes, you come across a scene by chance that’s really, oddly, uniquely beautiful, and in a really unexpected place. On the footbridge between Poole Cresccent and Chasewater, over the M6 toll, a street light shines through the safety cage. I’ve never noticed it before. It’s like a portal. It fascinated me.

December 30th – I’d been going stir crazy, and the weather was more or less OK when I set out. I went round Chasewater, then up through Hednesford and up onto the Chase. Birches Valley was packed with people, dogs and bikers, despite the drizzle and wind, and so I doubled back up Penkridge Bank to Rifle Range Corner and on to Abrahams Valley for peace, quiet and a chance to do some badger watching in the dusk. Heading back on the A51, I surveyed the floodplains of the Trent. The wind blew me to Rugeley, and over to Breretonhill; but fought me all the way home to Brownhills. A great ride, but the weather was hell.

Hopefully, conditions will steadily improve now.