Inshore fishing, Hornsea

click photos to enlarge

The inshore fishing industry of England's Holderness coast, an expanse that stretches from Flamborough Head in the north to Spurn Point in the south, has changed out of all recognition down the centuries. In the middle ages the summer fishing was centred on herrings, but by the eighteenth century it was a selection of whitefish - cod, haddock, ling, skate and halibut - that were hunted using lines baited with shellfish. Herring continued to be caught, and were sold salted, or were smoked to produce kippers. Crab and lobsters also formed part of the regular catches by the small boats that went out from the coast's towns and villages.

However, the development of larger, powered trawlers meant that by the twentieth century over-fishing had so reduced the whitefish stocks of the North Sea that a change of emphasis was necessary, and today the small inshore fleet specialises mainly in brown crabs and lobsters, with a very few flatfish and cod being caught. And small the fleet is, the number of boats/men/pots being as follows: Bridlington 42/97/33,750, Hornsea 7/14/4,440, Tunstall 2/4/250, Withernsea 9/18/4,850, Easington 2/4/1,100, Spurn Point 1/2/500.

On my recent brief visit I saw the reltively new compound and buildings at Hornsea where the seven inshore boats are based, and watched as one was recovered from the sea by its tractor. I grabbed a few quick photographs of these developments that had grown up since the time, twenty five years and more ago, when I regularly visited this coast. Looking at the crew bringing their boat in on a bright and relatively warm March day, the prospect of fishing the coastal fringe of the North Sea appears to have its attractions, but on a cold, grey, gale-swept January day I'm sure it would be decidedly less alluring.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 105mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/500 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Hornsea beach tracks

click photo to enlarge

It occurred to me the other day that during my life I've flip-flopped from one side of the country to the other. I was born in Westmorland (now Cumbria) and raised in the western Yorkshire Dales, moved to the city of Hull for a while, then went back to north-west England for many years, and latterly re-located to Lincolnshire. During all but my early life I was a keen photographer, never specialising in anything in particular, but rather dipping my toe into many of the recognised genres. I suppose that architecture, landscape and natural history have figured large in my output, and of course, down the years I've shot many thousands of family snaps.

In the past decade, as I've spent more time with my camera, I've deliberately selected a few specific subjects and begun building collections of images. Examples of this include spiral staircases, motion blur, and the subject of today's photograph, tracks in the landscape. Lincolnshire's man-made landscape is the place where I began to notice these man-made intrusions, and where the sinuous, sometimes semi-abstract quality, that they impart first impacted on me.

Wheatfields and barley fields offer good opportunities for this kind of photography. The former sometimes provide intriguing examples that appear to have no beginning. But pasture can have good tracks too, and land freshly prepared for a salad crop offered one of the craziest examples I've come across. I've also photographed these tracks on sandy beaches where they temporarily hold a record of cleaning vehicles or the launching of boats. Today's photograph is an example of the latter that I took on a recent visit to Hornsea in East Yorkshire. This seaside resort on a long, sandy coastline, has a small fishing fleet that specialises in brown crabs and lobsters. The boats are launched and brought in by tractor, and this recovery offered an opportunity to add another shot to my "tracks" collection.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/640 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Dark skies and photography

click photo to enlarge

After a very dry, sunny spring and early summer, with plenty of warm weather - at least in my part of the world - things have changed and we've had quite a bit of welcome rain. At the time of writing this blog post thunder is booming around us and heavy showers are queuing up to drench the fields and gardens. All this is very welcome to someone who likes to cultivate his patch, and the result of the precipitation can be seen in the increased growth rate of the grass on the lawns, the blooming of the annual and perennial flowers, the heavy crops of strawberries and raspberries that we've gathered in, and the bountiful lushness of the vegetable garden. But it's not just the gardener in me that has been pleased by the rain and changeable skies, my photographic side has welcomed them too.

On a recent day in the East Yorkshire countryside sunshine fought for supremacy with fleeting showers and dark skies. The result of the conflict was a draw, but for me personally it was, as they say these days, a "win-win" situation, with the sky with sun and clouds lending itself to photographic compositions just as much as as the dark, glowering skies. The main photograph, showing the beach at Hornsea with a groyne and the high water groyne marker, would have been less of an image without the black clouds that were above my head and heading out over the sea. They change the tonal values and the mood of the photograph. Interestingly no rain fell from them onto our heads, but rain was around, and distant showers can be seen on the horizon.

On one of the days of my recent visit to London the sky was behaving in a similar way, and it gave me an opportunity to get a different kind of shot of Canary Wharf. The grey blanket above subdued the colours and brightness of the gleaming towers, and perhaps more clearly reflected the mood that much of the financial community has experienced over the past few years. By the way, on this occasion we did get caught in a light shower and had to beat a hasty retreat for cover.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 28mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/1000
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Living sculpture

click photo to enlarge

As I was walking down the promenade in Hornsea, East Yorkshire, my eyes fell upon the public art and street furniture that the council had commissioned to beautify the area. Most notable was the semi-abstract relief sculpture above a small pool featuring birds and the town's name. I also admired the long, narrow garden that had been assembled with walls of granite, short sections of "groynes", undulating grass, shingle, beach flowers and shrubs. The promenade railings in the style of an ocean liner's with a hardwood hand-rail, inclined uprights and lines of stainless steel cable between struck the right note by the sea. And the black, bird sculptures that topped the large, ornamental street lights were a nice detail. What a pity, I thought, about the concrete, tarmac and brick desert that had been created near the leisure centre.

As I made my way back up the promenade to rejoin my companions I looked up at the street lights and did a "double take". The bird sculptures that I'd admired were turning their heads to follow my passage: they were in fact real birds - rooks! Raising my camera I took a few shots of the living statues and carried on my way. After I'd walked a few yards I turned and looked back at them. It was obvious that two of the birds were rooks, but what about the third one? I had no binoculars so I resolved to identify it by studying my photographs when I put them on the computer.

Viewing the bird at 100% reveals that it is clearly an immature rook, a product of this year's nesting season. The reason it looks very odd, and made me wonder whether or not it was a carrion crow, is the shape of its beak.  Half of the upper mandible is broken off. Despite this handicap the bird appeared to be foraging successfully with its parents and managing to cope. I hope it continues to do so.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 300mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/640
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

No cycling

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Several years ago I was cycling with my wife along the along the promenade at Llandudno in North Wales when we were stopped and told that cycling was not allowed. The official who spoke to us was unable to give a reason for the prohibition but was keen to point to the purpose-made signs forbidding the activity. In preparing this blog post I did a quick search to find out whether the town's policy was still in force and I found this photograph on Geograph taken in 2010. The caption struck a chord with me: it included this remark, " ...The prom at Llandudno is so wide you could take tanks down it without getting in anybody's way..." So, I guess, for reasons that must be incomprehensible to most people, cycling is still banned.

At the time we tried to ride there we lived not too far from Blackpool, Lancashire, where we had been used to cycling freely on well-marked lanes next to paths designated for pedestrians. It wasn't perfect, and cyclists and pedestrians sometimes got in each other's way, usually through ignoring the demarcation. However, there weren't, to my knowledge any serious problems and the many miles of the coast that it opened up to people on foot and on bicycles were well used and enjoyed. People's quality of life was enhanced by this simple, inexpensive measure.

But, a recent visit to the small seaside town of Hornsea in East Yorkshire reminded me that, despite efforts by cyclists, health promoters, government and others, not all local councils have got the message that people on bicycles can co-exist alongside pedestrians and it is in the community at large's interest that steps are taken to encourage it. Mind you, if the council responsible for Hornsea promenade had been more enlightened I wouldn't have got my photograph of the bright red "No Cycling" sign against the blues and browns of the distant sky and sea!

I usually allow my computer software to automatically remove the slight vignetting that my 70-300mm lens produces at maximum zoom. On this occasion, however, I quite liked what it added to the photograph so I let it remain.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 300mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/640
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On