The 'no parking' and 'private property' signs gave me the impression that I should probably leave the car a bit further back down the road. I'd driven down this quiet country road as it was a good entry point to a valley in the Partry Mountains that I'd come explore. I walked briskly past the house with the signs and in no time I was following Srahnalong River and there wasn't a soul around but for me, the birds and scattered sheep. I followed the river's course, with Mám Trasna to my left a vertical wall of rock, until I got as far as the end of the valley, then crossing the river I

It was completely serendipitous me spotting this location. I was on my way to another location and I was running late, which meant that the sun had already risen (usually when I'm making my way to a location it's dark and I can't see anything but what's infront of me), and a temporary traffic light meant I had to stop at a gate, through which I could see a tree on a slope with Croagh Patrick beyond. Not so long later, during a particularly cold spell, I headed back there for the dawn. The car was reading the outside temperature as -6 degrees, and although I didn't believe that it was as

Back in March I'd attempted to get to Corryloughaphuill Lough via Glenamong Valley (see this previous post) and had discovered that it wasn't really feasible. But I could see that the Bangor Trial, just to the north, offered a possible alternative route. I'd need to walk the trail until the terrain opened up a bit with a large mountain on my right, cross a river somehow and head up the slope until I got to the top and then walk along the high ground until I got to the mountain with the lough on the other side. I left the tripod in the car (which meant I'd be shooting everything

Storm Eunice brought high winds but it also brought snow, so I headed for just north of Newport, County Mayo as the worst of the winds abated. My plan was to walk along Glenamong river on the edge of a forest and somehow head up the moutain range beyond to get to a lough on the other side. I'd planned it all out by utilising an OS map and Apple Maps (because it's got the best satellite photos), but was to discover that the situation on the ground was different to what the maps suggested. First I encountered an incongruous No Parking sign and then found the track cut off by a fence. I

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 knew I was going to be at my first location too early and that the sun would be in the wrong place but I'd deliberately picked a day of rain showers in the hope that I'd get dark clouds with a few spotlights picking out the landscape. I stood at the side of Lough Fee and watched what the light was doing. It was windy enough that I had to wrap my arm around my tripod. I watched as the wind created whirlpools on the lake's surface. They were large and impressive and when one dissipated another would start up in a different spot. I'd never seen it happen before and it made up for the fact

After a terrible December and January (photography-wise) I was stood on the side of a mountain on Achill Island getting battered by strong winds and I was absolutely loving it. I'd first hiked up this mountain side a few years previous on a recce. I'd gone up there to take a look at a neolithic tomb and when I turned round I saw an amazing view of Keel Beach and beyond. This time it was so windy that I had to wedge my tripod legs into the tomb and wrap any cords or straps up tightly. I had to put one foot on the tomb in order to put my eye to the camera's viewfinder and more than once a

I arrived at Downpatrick Head in good time. From a previous visit to Dún Briste (North Mayo Coast) I knew that I wanted to capture it at an angle which made it look the skinniest and that I wanted it to be a long-exposure shot. For this I needed an overcast morning (I settled for mostly cloudy) because otherwise the difference in exposure between the sky and the rest of the image would be too great. I also needed the wind to not be coming in from the direction of the sea, otherwise I'd get sea spray all over the lens. I was lucky enough to get conditions close enough to what I needed on a

  I suppose you wouldn't think of how physically gruelling it is to be a landscape photographer unless you are one (or maybe if you live with one). I forget myself, of course, and keep planning ever more ambitious distances and locations. I'd been wanting to photograph the above view of Achill Island for some time, had attempted it once of twice and gotten nothing but disappointment. I made a 5am start so as to have enough time to get to the location and set up in time for sunrise. I hadn't slept for long enough and the almost 2 hour drive was taxing. Conveniently there's a road

I grunted as I slung my fully laden camera bag on to my back for the first time in months and set off in my new hiking boots and waterproof trousers (an upgrade to the skinny jeans and Harley Davidson boots I'd been wearing every previous year). I set off along the path that leads to Toormakeady Waterfall in the twilight and as I gazed into the crepuscular gloom I wished I'd thought to take the torch out of the bag. Luckily I'd set off from my house earlier than I had planned because Google Maps sent me to the wrong spot. It was only when I wound up in the middle of nowhere that I