Early winter is the season I associate most with the Pennines, probably because my very earliest first forays into the Dark Peak with a camera always seemed to be during the shortest days of November. Usually, I would be somewhere remote watching the light change on the landscape as the sun dipped. Invariably only half an hour of daylight remaining and at least an hour’s walk back to my starting point. At times like this, the head torch seems to be the single most important invention for walkers. How did we survive without them! Nothing changes though, the best times for capturing the light-play are almost always when most sensible walkers have staked their claim in the Nag’s Head, Tan Hill Inn or some other similarly precious traditional watering-hole with a pint and shoveling a huge pile of calories. No matter, the ale and the food will still be there as long as I can find somewhere to sit!
There’s something about this late-in-the day solitude of the Pennines that gets under your skin. Once there it never leaves you, the only sounds in this big landscape is that of the breeze around the rocks and through the heather and ling and red grouse telling me to ‘…go back, go back…!’ before the nightly shut-down. The grouse are right, it is time to go back, but it is also time to return again to watch the show.
90mm Fujinon SW
Fuji Velvia 50asa
The Dark Peak