October Morning Holme Fen

It is early about 5:45 am. The sun will be up around 7:15. I drive down to Holme Fen; the roads dark and nearly abandoned but for some early commuters. Narrow curving country roads, a familiar route now. It doesn’t seem that long ago I was consulting a map to remind myself how to get there. Through the villages still asleep Kings Ripton, Little Raveley, Upton, Ramsey Heights, Ramsey St Mary’s then towards Holme before turning off to the farm road with little pullouts for parking. 

I get out of the car and it is very dark. Nobody here. The hushed swish of the mainline trains and occasional car on the road to Holme. In the distance the traffic on the A1. It seems one is never far from road noise in England.

The air is cold but not anything like a frosty morning I anticipate in another few weeks. In fact we have not had a freeze yet and the trees have kept most of their green leaves. The air is heavy with moisture, at dew point. I can count on wet toes as I walk through grass and undergrowth this morning. My ears tune to the sounds closer to me, a crow caws, some goose honking. Mostly silence. 

I put on a my cap and headlamp. Normally I like walking in the barely visible light of early twilight but last week I stepped in a hole on the path and nearly twisted my ankle. I decided it wasn’t worth a more serious injury. 

My new routine is to extend the legs on my tripod, mount the camera and carry it assembled over my shoulder. It isn’t much trouble and makes setting up a little faster. Later when I find something to photograph I will mount the lens and instead of packing the lens I leave it on and use the dark cloth to cover the camera from the undergrowth or any rain as I tromp off to the next location. 

The added benefit this morning is a that I have room in my pack now for my other new ritual, a thermos of hot coffee. 

I throw the pack on, lock up the car and put the tripod and camera over my shoulder and make my way to the trail with the help of the headlamp. Over a small bridge, the trail parallels the ditch for a few paces before turning into the forest. Some of the grasses are saturated in dew drops and reflect brightly the white light of my headlamp. They stand out from other vegetation as bright blue-green patches that seem almost to glow from their own light source. 

I know where I want to go, a covert some distance from here where I anticipate the rising sun will illuminate some birch and oaks. I had been there before about three weeks ago and took a couple of photos but something went wrong and they ended up out of focus. Not sure if the ground glass was not in place properly or the film holder. In any case the film came back out of focus but the colors were warm and lovely. I thought I might try again. 

On the drive down this morning it is clear the odds are against me, lots of clouds on the eastern horizon. So it goes. Where to plant your flag in the big patch of woodlands for that fleeting warm light before the sun blazes (if at all) higher in the sky. It is not the same as a mountain or cliff or some other large obvious feature. I am still learning what works and what doesn’t. 

I walk as quickly as the light allows towards the next ditch and onto the next covert. Turn right and look for the left turn. Back into the forest following another path. An owl hoots in the distance. Small birds tweet their distress, wood pigeons are flushed their wings smacking a loud rhythm as they head up into the dark sky. Finally I find the edge of this covert, cut left along the ditch until the bridge; then across the footbridge onto another road. Down this road until the next footbridge then I walk the southern edge of the forest as the sky finally begins to lighten. The fields of the fens are on my right, dark birch forest to my left. Here the reeds of the fens invade into the understory of the forest as a thicket of tall grasses. 

Not much further perhaps a half mile; I duck under some baling twine and a sign admonishing me that the path is closed as they are cutting trees. I ignore the warning as I know nobody is up this early for work. I pass the piles of freshly cut logs and a tractor beside the path, then across another ditch into yet another covert. 

I am now here where I want to be. It is perhaps 20 minutes to sunrise as I position myself. A heavy bank of cloud obscures the horizon but some openings higher up give me to understand where to expect the sun to rise. 

I position the camera and tripod and begin to make a composition. As I do this a light rain begins to fall. I move everything under the heavy limb of a large oak tree and shelter there. The sun will not be up for some time and perhaps not at all here with the clouds. I break out the coffee and pour a steaming cup and munch on a granola bar. Breakfast. The rain hisses gently on the leaves overhead giving a quiet sense of peace. I stand there under this great oak and feel a heightened sense of relaxation and peace of mind. It is one of those perfect quiet moments the more so because it was not anticipated. I stand there perhaps 15 minutes as the rains falls around me before it lets up. 

I move back into position still holding out hope for that break in the clouds. Cows in a distant field are awake and mooing to each other the morning news. I finish the composition, focus and then load a film holder and wait. In the end it is clear the clouds and sun are not for cooperating for my benefit. Still I meter and take the photo for practice if nothing else. A rule bending centered composition. 

Morning Birch

I put on the pack, collect the tripod legs and hoist it over my shoulder. I walk back the way I came along the ditch to a small yellowing birch I noticed on the other side of the ditch. I setup and take a photo here. 

I cross back across the ditch ducking under another barrier across the path and walk towards the edge of some small ponds here. There has been a cacophony of waterfowl since the sky brightened from this part of the forest. I walk to different viewpoints on the edge of the water and see rafts of different ducks and geese as well as a couple of cormorants. I continue along the edge of the ponds remembering past times when I had been here last winter. Looking for images but not really finding much. 

I make my way back to the local road and walk back to the footbridge into the next covert. Not far from here is the large dead oak I photographed last November. I have in mind to get back to a clearing I photographed a few months ago. I wanted to try the photo again with the large format camera with a 6x9 black and white image. 

I make my way there and find myself mesmerized with the dazzling color. Gone is the tyranny of green that ruled all summer. The greatest of the bracken are dying back in a range of colors from orange to brown and brown tinged with deep purple. Yellow birch leaves have fallen all over the dark peat ground. Bright green moss and small green ferns abound. Mushrooms and fungus are everywhere. Big cities of a yellow-green variety, minute white dots of another kind. Layered stripes of small shelf fungus. The rain has wet everything and makes it vibrate with saturated colors.

I get my black and white photo and then revisit other scenes in one of these places that crop up in this forest that seem almost enchanted. There is some look or feeling in these places that makes them seem magical and where I can often find a number of scenes to photograph. If one is attentive there are a huge range of different types of forest areas. At first it all appears to be birch and ferns. But the patterns are varied and then the types of trees changes and the ages and sizes of birch or how far apart they are. 

Just off the trail is fallen tree, still very much alive it has yellow tinged green foliage and the rain has made the dark trunk darker and more apparent. I step into the heather to get the best vantage and compose another photo. I will return here serendipitously a few days later and shoot this subject again from a couple of different angles. The tree was so unique that when approached from the opposite direction I recognized it immediately. 

Fallen Tree

By now my brain is buzzing pleasantly with the intense beauty. It is truly sublime as I make my way back to the car. For me there is something of the enchanted about this piece of woodland that makes me come back and want to spend hours upon hours here.