For years now there’s a particular shot I’ve been wanting to get… don’t ask me why, I just have a sort of fixation about it.
And all it requires is for me to be in the right place, at the right time, and with the right weather conditions.
The shot in question is something I’ve seen for real so many times, every time striking a chord, somewhere deep inside. And, having witnessed it some of those times since being into this photography lark my reaction’s invariably been: “I want that!”.
It’s a very simple scene really… Cardington Hangars, those rather ugly yet somehow captivating structures. Set in fields way back from the road although still appearing absolutely huge.
But not Cardington Hangars at any old time of the day. Cardington Hangars in the early morning, with day just beginning to break, and a ground mist rising… the Hangars looming out of the mist like a pair of strange ships sailing on an eerie sea.
Yet somehow, despite how often this occurs, I’ve never quite managed to capture it. Those three specific requirements have never quite happened. Not all at the same time. Not when I’ve been in a position to wield a camera.
Thought I’d cracked it this morning though. Just after sixish, sun coming up… and there’s a mist! Quickly grab the jolly old Lumix and dive outside.
Generally, at my normal ambling pace, it’ll take me about 15 minutes or so to reach the vicinity of the Hangars from home. Well, this morning I kicked into top gear and practically halved that time, arriving there about quarter past.
But alas, too late. I’m guessing by about 10 or 15 minutes. For the mist was by now far too thick. Of the Hangars? No sign. Enshrouded completely!
Bugger! Just my sodding luck!
And knackered to boot. All that rushing around for nothing. Morosely about-turn then, and start making my way homeward. To the somehow fitting accompaniment of rooks mournfully calling to one another (or so it seemed). Of which there happen to be quite a few hereabouts. Prob’ly why the nearby farm is known by the name of “Rookery Farm”.
Morosely grab a coupla shots on the way back, just so all that expended energy won’t have been a total waste, but I can’t really say my heart was in it.
Then, over there, in a field, what’s that I spy? Horses! Grazing. Hmm.
Best I go over to introduce meself then. Find out if they’ll mind me taking their photo. And they didn’t. Far too busy stuffing their faces methinks.
Just as well mate wasn’t with me cos he’d prob’ly have scared them off. He does that y’know. Particularly to sheep. As it was I grab me a handful of shots and, I have to say, I do rather like them.
Suddenly the early morning effort seemed completely worthwhile, for had I not made my stupidly mad dash along to the Hangars then I wouldn’t have been wandering back home at that time in the morning, along that road, in the mist. And I wouldn’t have spotted the horses. Result!
Guess that’s what’s called opportunism… or maybe serendipity. Heh heh.