Hands down, for me, the most difficuly thing in landscape photography is actually finding the time to do it. Between work, a family and life in general there just aren't that many opportunities, especially when you consider that on this trip to Donegal I left my house at 6:30 and didn't return for 12 hours. On my return I was wrecked and aching all over, but I'd had a good day so I was happy. My first stop was Assaranca Waterfall. I couldn't really find a satisfactory viewpoint from which to photograph it. In the river seemed to be the best place but it wasn't practical. So I shot the

Pretty much two months of terrible weather and photographic failures had proceeded my arrival at Silverstrand Beach on the South West tip of County Mayo. I don't expect every trip that I take with my camera to be a success, but when you've had several abject failures in a row you start to question your abilities. But while some decisions that I have made have exacerbated my failures, what I have been dealing with is a very mild winter. By January I should be reveling in frost, icy flurries and snow capped mountains, but instead it's just warm. The landscape still looks the same as it did

I was new in Galway when I first saw the diving tower in Salthill, didn't previously know of its existence. My first thoughts were that I wanted to photograph it. You can see the results in this blog post from April, 2013. They were taken before I developed my style and I didn't even know to check the tide times (I was only lucky that it happened to be high tide). I never attempted to capture it again as I got better at what I was doing, despite only living up the road. However, what with the current Covid restrictions keeping me local I thought I may as well have another go. I hate

There is a tree near Castlebar in Mayo that I've had marked out for snowy conditions for a quite a while now. It's on a slope, it's an interesting shape and it's on its own. Pretty much perfect. Unfortunately I'm currently unable to get to it as I'm stuck to within 5km of my house thanks to Covid-19 restrictions. But it's funny what you can find nearby when you're forced to. It seems having driven around searching for trees, that the interesting trees aren't on their own and the ones that are on their own are ugly. But I managed to find this one and the snow plastered to the trunk and

I arrived at Streedagh Point for the dawn as I'd marked out a point on top of the dunes from where there is a great view of the mountain range - nicely coated in snow - that Benbulbin belongs to. However the light was completely flat and wasn't going to improve for hours judging by the thick blanket of cloud over Sligo. So I decided to move to a lower point where I could possibly use alluvium to capture a reflection of the mountain range instead. Ultimately it was a wasted hour though. From there I went north to Gleniff Horseshoe where I'd marked out a spot from which can be seen the

I could just make out the outline of Errisbeg in the darkness as I approached Roundstone, and when I parked I started to doubt my own plans. My intention was to climb Errisbeg in the twilight in the hope that I may get high enough to get a shot of Dog's Bay and Gurteen Bay as the dawn broke. But it was only just getting light and the mountain looks far more formidable  when you're looking up at it than it does on the map. Having recently borrowed a digital luggage scale I knew that my fully laden camera bag weighs nearly 11.5kg so I left the tripod and one camera body in the car to

I'd been closely monitoring the conditions in Sligo and I headed there on a day when I figured that I had the best chance of a bit of snow on the mountains. I planned to be at Strandhill beach for dawn to catch high tide. As I drove in I could see that the waves were wild and that there was snow on the Ox Mountains. I had planned to use my 50mm lens and to incorporate the broad sweep of the beach but I found that it caused the mountains to be too insignificant, so I swapped for my 85mm lens and forsook most of the beach. I stayed just long enough for the sun to pop up over the horizon a

My parents and their friends were due to travel to Kinsale for the weekend of Wales v Ireland in the 6 Nations Rugby tournament and I planned to drive down to meet them. Of course, I also scheduled in some time for myself with my camera in scenic County Cork. Unfortunately Storm Ciara hit Ireland the very same weekend. Which meant high winds, lots of rain and very little chance of me getting any shots. Still I kept checking the forecast for even a slight chance to get out with my camera at some point. I had planned to explore the area near Gougane Barra. I'd been there years previously

I'd kind of put off trying to photograph Poulnabrone dolmen because it's such a popular spot. A car park and information boards is one thing but a rope around the dolmen really spoils the magic. However, I'd gotten a notion to try it in fog. The fog that morning was some of the most spectacular that I'd ever seen. Ostensibly the entire country was covered but when I drove up to Poulnabrone - which is at a high altitude - it was incredibly thick. I shot the dolmen from several angles but I'm not sure whether or not the fog actually added anything to the image. Usually fog lifts shortly

I'd first attempted to photograph the jetties on Lough Derg at Twomilegate almost a year previously and it hadn't gone well. At the time I'd decided not to attempt it again but eventually I changed my mind and thought it would look good in thick fog. Two of the three weather apps that I use predicted fog at dawn. I awoke before my alarm and prized my eyes open to check the weather once more. It seemed that the fog was predicted to move to the west of Lough Derg, but the conditions for fog were still present so I thought that I had a pretty good chance. When I turned off the motorway I