I forget that dog walkers like an early bounce down the beach. At 614am, about 15 minutes before official sunrise, I’m on Burnham Beach clutching a tripod, the two hounds enjoying a spraunce. I’m alone apart from one lone dog walker way off in the distance. The tide is going out, the tripod has a bubble level but the upside-down-back-to-front thing that Yash uses is taking time to work out.
I’m busy levelling and twizzling and getting to grips with how to operate my fresh-to-me tripod, that has a rotating head so perfect for the image I’m chasing. I’m looking down. The sun is coming up. Around me the beach is suddenly heaving with dogs and walkers, all trying to ask me about Yash and was I photographing the dogs or the lighthouse as the light got stronger. One women tried to get her very snarky french bulldog to socialise with my hounds, and managed to wrap the lead around my tripod in a tangle of snarling black terrier. I asked her to remove herself before we all ended up face down in the famous Burnham sands. They have no idea I’m on a timeline connecting tide and light.
One of the dogs is ominously quiet. I look up to see a distant hound now playing tennis ball chase with a total stranger and his dog, about half a mile down the beach. Much calling. Arm flapping. Whistling my epic batmobile/taxi whistle. The dog ignores me. I have a shot lined up but a hound leaving for Brean without me.
Conscious of the fact that I’m leaving a lone vintage camera called Yash on a tripod on a beach, I shoulder the backpack with very expensive digital kit, ditch Yash and leg it down the beach still calling the dog. The bloke is still throwing the tennis ball to Brean. I’m annoyed. Dog goes on lead and is frogmarched back to tripod, where Yash is now engaging with a local intrigued by his lone nature. And 1960’s good looks.
I now have salty hands, sand getting busy, a dog on a lead, and the 12 frames are done. I take the film out, which is much simpler than it sounds with dog on lead and the sticky film bit going the wrong way, which involved me trying to lick the sticky bit in situ without getting sand all over Yash’s sensitive bits. I decide, after assessing the light again and more thinking about the sand, to call it a day. In downtown Burnham an eggs and bacon calls my name from a cafe on the corniche. This makes Burnham sound very glamorous.
Yash returns to the Roka backpack and we will develop the roll soon to work out if the planned shot turned out. Here is the iPhone version of the morning’s events.
Get up early and take photographs. Even if the dog runs off with a stranger. People might leave you and your camera alone. Mostly.
I’m still signed up for the Artists Support Pledge which is a brilliant idea. I just need folk to buy my prints so I can buy other artists work too! This 12x10” beauty is £85, giclee printed on Hahnemuhle archival paper and is a limited edition of 200. Do drop me an email if you’d like one.