It was one of those clear, bright days that happen after snow has fallen and I was going to attempt driving to the top of Croaghmoyle mountain. There's an RTÉ mast at the summit so there's a road that leads to that. How far up the mountain I'd be able to get I had no idea until I tried. When I got to Castlebar the sky turned grey and no sooner had I got onto the first L road than it started to snow. In no time at all the snow was coming down thick and the world had turned white. I was crawling along and any time I did more than tap the brakes the ABS would come on. I thought better of
I had attempted to capture Doolough once before and hadn't been successful. I made a recce of the location in the summer of 2015 and having worked out the direction of the sunrise decided that it needed to be dawn when I returned. It was January of 2016 when I returned only to find that the sun rose in an awkward position behind a mountain, making for an uneven exposure. I ended up going for an exploratory drive and happening upon something else which I did successfully capture. On my way back I passed by Doolough again, the sun had now risen above the mountain illuminating the scene
I set off along the trail for Cillin Phédraig church in Mauméan. The Catholic Church was outlawed during the 17th and 18th centuries and during that time mass was held there in secret. People would climb the mountain from the Maum and Inagh Valleys on either side to practise their faith. As I puffed up the steep and rocky climb I thought about how devoted to their religion the locals must have been to have done this whenever it was time for mass. Then it occurred to me that I was carrying a rucksack weighed down with camera equipment on my back... at sunrise... while my family slept
These are the result of a weekend raid into Connemara. The colour image is of a view towards Lough Formoyle which I'd spotted months previously, but had been waiting for a clear, frosty winter day to capture. Unfortunately there'd only been three such days amongst the constant deluge of rain during what has since proven to be the wettest winter on record, and on each of those days I wasn't able to leave the house. But as I made my way there on a reasonably clear Friday morning, I realised that the location is so out of the way that I don't think I would have gotten there on a frozen road
I was expecting it to be taller, but then, despite the heavy rain over the last few months, I was expecting to be able to walk up to it too. Apparently an inland lighthouse is a rare thing, but I remember there's one at the edge of the lake in Roath Park in Cardiff, but then that was only for decoration. Ballycurrin Lighthouse, situated on the bank of Loch Corrib, appears to have been the real deal.
So you spy something that you'd like to photograph. You do the recce, working out your angle, where the sun's going to be, which lens and filter you're going to use, and so on. Then you turn up on the day to find that, actually, your plan's not going to work at all, and you end up shooting something completely different; and either end up with something better, or nothing at all. The former is what happened with these images. The first was taken in Spiddal. I'd actually planned to shoot from the other side of the quay, facing in from the sea. I was planning on the sun illuminating the