Hartland Quay © Matthew Lodge
The Hartland Peninsula in Devon is the “square corner” of the county’s Northern coast, the last major projection into the Bristol Channel before the coastline sweeps down to the Southwest and becomes Cornwall.
I attended a one-day RPS Landscape workshop conducted by Robert Harvey in March, the date and times carefully chosen to match the shifting tide and provide maximum opportunity for shooting on the various beaches and “Combes”.
The bedrock of Hartland is carboniferous sandstones and shales, formed approx 320 million years ago and then much folded and twisted by the collision of tectonic plates that formed the ancient supercontinent of Pangea. Since then it has been eroded by hundreds of millions of years of ice, water and waves. The result is a dramatic coastline with sharp zig-zag rock formations, waterfalls and strong lines formed by layers of coloured rock. In short, a place with many opportunities for landscape photographers.
The day before the workshop I arrived at Hartland Quay in the afternoon and enjoyed dry conditions, good light, a lovely golden hour and a spectacular sunset. I was able to clamber over the rocks where the Hartland Quay harbour used to be and shoot the breakers pounding the jagged rocks.
Welcombe Waterfall © Matthew Lodge
The weather on the day of the workshop, however, was far less kind: overcast with rain squalls and a gusty wind in the 20-30 mph range. We set out to a point overlooking the beach with the goal of taking dynamic “action shots” of surf crashing over the rocks. This required telephoto lenses in the 100-400mm range and high shutter speeds (and ISO) given the strong gusting wind and poor light. Ironically, although the wind was much stronger than the day before, the surf was more gentle, making it more challenging.
From there we descended onto the ramp leading down to the beach to take advantage of the viewpoint down onto the edge of the folded rock strata that provides ample leading line compositions. The scene was set, but the biggest challenge was the wind driving rain onto the front element of the lens. At those shorter focal lengths lens hoods were not much help, with the need for constant wiping to get a decent shot.
With car-sharing worked out, we drove to the next location: Welcombe Beach. Wellington boots are essential for shooting in the surf at the beach. We gathered inside a small cave formed by a folded rock formation to eat lunch in relative dryness as the rain pounded down and the wind howled through the valley and over a small waterfall.
Welcombe Beach © Matthew Lodge
Setting tripods down in the surf with the camera close to the water made for the best use of the leading lines formed by the fractured rock formations. Fortunately this was also facing away from the prevailing wind, and using neutral density filters allowed long exposures (around 30s) provided you protected your camera from strong wind gusts. Checking the images at 100% was essential for ensuring sharpness had been achieved.
Standing in the middle of the stream was the best viewpoint for the waterfall, but the strong gusting wind and rain direction meant relatively short exposures worked best.
Blackchurch Rock © Matthew Lodge
The final location was Blackrock Church beach, a few miles away. Careful planning meant that we arrived at the beach around low tide, which is essential for getting to a vantage point where the massive folded rock structure can be mirrored in a pool of water in front. It’s a mile from the car park to the beach down a muddy lane, then a crossing of a (raging) stream, traversing a boulder field, and then onto the rocks. Perhaps that’s why there are relatively few images of the rock from this location! A wide angle lens at f16, focused on the rock pool in front ensured adequate depth of field with the tripod delicately balanced over the pool.
The rain intensified as we took turns shooting the rock, and the energy of the group was sagging. After we’d all taken our images we headed back to Hartland Quay to dry out. I met up with Robert for dinner later and he mentioned that the following morning was one of the few days a year when the rising sun could be shot through the holes in Blackrock Church. The weather forecast was clear, low tide was 6.23 and sunrise 6.56 – sounded eminently do-able.
And so I arrived at the beach around 6.30 the next morning and clambered out to the rock pool to take the shot. As I was waiting, a rain shower arrived, getting me and my gear comprehensively wet and then proceeded to move across the sky to block the sunrise. I gambled that the sun might peek through the clouds if I waited, and then it became a race against the incoming tide which began to surge into the rock pool, threatening to drown my camera. In the end I got a better photo of the rock than the previous day, but the sunlight through the rock remained elusive. Maybe it’ll be better next year?