Southwest Ireland is a place I have often thought about visiting. I have heard from others how beautiful it is, seen images by other photographers and when informed by a number of workshop attendees that it is a place they would love to visit I booked a flight, hired a car and arranged accommodation within a few days! There were two areas that I wanted to explore – the Dingle Peninsula and Killarney National Park which lies just 45 mins from the former. Over the next few months I researched extensively those places I was interested in shooting but, ultimately, with anything like this you have to drive and walk up hills to really see it for yourself.
I planned to visit at the end of November for two reasons with the first being the lack of tourists(!) and secondly the light would be low enough for day-round photography and with just 8 hours of daylight I was determined not to waste a single minute. I ignore forecasts whenever I am shooting away from home and just go. Time is precious and experience has taught me that very often the most dramatic light happens when you least expect it and this trip had it in abundance!
A short drive from Dingle lies Ireland's highest mountain pass - The Conor Pass where, at it's highest point, there's a car park and a 20-30 minute walk takes you almost to the summit of an adjacent mountain giving an amazing view across the peninsula. My alarm didn't wake me and after looking out of the window I saw a partially clear sky. Thankfully, the parking spot was only 10 minutes drive away but the uphill walk (more like a jog) took a further 20. Heart pounding and with legs like jelly, I made it just in the nick of time!
The weather, as you'd expect in this region, was changeable to say the least with sunshine and showers making a regular appearance which, as a result, made for perfect conditions for landscape photography though the constant cleaning of filters during the wetter moments got a little wearing at times.
Clogher Head beach was on my list of bays to visit and toward the end of my first full day I spent a couple of hours shooting dramatic waves crashing against rocks and cliffs. The tide was coming in and so I 'played' with slow shutter speeds. It was at this stage that I almost lost my camera. With the camera set up on the tripod a good two feet above the ground I would step back as the shallow water swirled around the tripod (I only had walking boots, not wellingtons) and as it receded I would fire the shutter by a remote release. This I did several times until a particularly large wave caught me off guard and as I paced back with the incoming wave, from twenty feet or so I watched with horror as the water level continued to rise. It stopped, thank goodness, just an inch or two below the camera and then as the water level dropped and receded the tripod began to wobble. I thought it was going to topple over into several inches of salt water and sand but thankfully it remained upright. The camera was sodden from both salt spray and the downpour. I retreated back to the car, thanking my lucky stars, and cleaned and dried it as best I could. Everything was fine but it could have been an altogether different story. I would like to say that that is a lesson learnt but you photographers out there know full well that something similar's bound to happen at some point in the future!
Here's a short video that I shot which, I hope, will give you a much better impression of what I was experiencing. It really was awesome. Nature at its most raw.
Once I dried the equipment, I drove back the same way, heading towards Dingle and just caught the colours of the setting sun. Seconds after this image was made, it was gone.
Waves at twilight
The following three days in Dingle were equally eventful (but without soggy camera incidents) and although there were periods of quite dire weather, there were moments of pure magic.
All seemed lost as I returned to Dingle having sat out several hours of constant rain and pretty much given up all hope of evening light. As I saw this happening before me (image below) I spotted a layby and parked up. No time for a tripod. My philosophy in such situations is to get what you can with the least amount of fuss which usually means cranking up the ISO and handholding the camera. And then, if the conditions continue and you have time, then bring out the tripod.
On one of the evenings I drove to Annascaul Lake which is set, quite literally, in the middle of nowhere and unless you have good instructions on how to get there, it's unlikely you'll ever find it! It's a wild, mountainous area and although I managed to get this image the light just didn't work out as I had hoped. I'll certainly return and attempt to improve upon what I obtained. However, with a rising moon and darkness closing in, I decided to stay on and see what I could achieve.
I always carry a small, high powered LED torch with me incase a painting-with-light session is called for! I'd spotted this old hawthorn a couple of hours previous and considered it for this kind of image.
On my final morning in Dingle I drove the 20 minutes to Coumeenole bay. It had been a very productive few days and so anything I got now I would see as a bonus. As with Clogher Head I was greeted with an incoming tide of huge waves created by the swell. For those of you not familiar with what a swell is, here's an explanation by WeatherOnline.
"Swell is an ocean wave system not raised by the local wind blowing at the time of observation, but raised at some distance away due to winds blowing there. Swell waves travel out of a stormy or windy area that have travelled from their fetch and continue on in the direction of the winds that originally formed them as sea waves. The swell may travel for thousands of miles before dying away. As the swell wave advances, its crest becomes flattened and rounded and its surface smooth. Swell waves are characterized by a relatively long and regular period".
It was an incredible morning with the deafening noise of huge waves crashing against the cliffs. It was such a sight that a group of workmen (who were resurfacing a nearby road) walked down the slipway to watch. I took a few wide-angle images but found the 70-200mm portrayed the scene much more effectively.
Please forgive the volume of 'wave' images you are about to trawl through! I took so many that it was difficult to choose the best so I thought I would simply pick a selection.
I found myself working instinctively. Fluidly. My eye would catch the shape of a wave or the reflected light of the rising sun. It's a wonderful, albeit frenetic, way in which to work. I left both exhilarated and exhausted.
In terms of the equipment I took over with me I try (and each time, hopelessly fail) to keep it down to a minimum. There is always a nagging feeling that the one item I leave at home I will need so I think I will just give up now and take everything though Micro Four Thirds is becoming increasingly appealing!
Aside from the usual - polarising, ND and ND Grad filters - I took a Nikon D600 (plus back-up), 14mm, 20mm, 28-105mm, 70-200mm and a 1.4x tele-converter. This was all packed into a Think Tank Airport Accelerator which I love for overseas travel as it's virtually indestructible and incredibly comfortable, even for long hikes. Tripod used was a Manfrotto 055XB Carbon Fibre fitted with a Markins M10 ball head.
That afternoon I drove just 45 minutes east to my next base - Killarney National Park. This is Ireland's first National Park and contains the fantastically named MacGillycuddy's Reeks, Ireland's highest mountain range. Lakes, streams and waterfalls, mountains and primeval forest (both oak and yew) make Killarney a truly magical place and one I see myself returning to many times over.
Over the next 4 days I took in as much as was physically possible to do so though, inevitably, you find yourself returning to spots you feel has most potential. I was especially struck by the rugged and isolated beauty of The Black Valley (famous for being the last place on mainland Ireland to be connected to electricity due to its remoteness) where I photographed the lake scene below. Mirror calm and not a soul to be seen - or heard.
I spent several hours at just this one lake as there were so many options. It would look stunning at sunrise and so I have earmarked this site for when I return.
I sometimes wonder if while processing images many photographers automatically increase certain sliders wanting to achieve a colourful, sharp and contrasty image when, perhaps, not enough thought has been gone into what you saw and felt at the time of capture. In the following two images, I saw a sombre pallete of browns, greens and greys. The cloud base was heavy and the scene was almost monotone. With that in mind I reduced saturation and in Lightroom's HSL reduced saturation in green and yellow as I felt those colours dominated the scene too intently.
It'll come as little surprise to learn that in Ireland it rains a lot! And, with that in mind, it's useful to have a few locations that you can concentrate on when conditions are, shall we say, challenging. Torc Waterfall is easily accessible but difficult to do justice to, given its shape. But, I had time on my hands (even though it was continually pouring down with rain) and attempted in some way to do just that.
Ladies View is so called due to Queen Victoria's Ladies-In-Waiting greatly admiring the view in 1861. It's not the easiest location, however, due to the low, winter morning sun keeping much of the valley in deep shadow until a good 30 minutes after sunrise.
Ireland surpassed all my expectations both in terms of its spectacular scenery and the open friendliness of those I encountered and, given the relatively short distance from my home, I am sure to be returning many times over the years both with and without clients.
