The magic is in the moments that are over so quickly, even our eyes can question if we even saw them at all. Not the spitting barrel,
or the sonic boom when thousands of tons of water pummels the shoreline but the nanosecond when a wave goes from pure
uninterrupted energy having travelled hundreds of miles across the ocean, changes into its final form as it’s thrown up by the
sandbanks at the end of its journey. Where does that energy go? I believe it is all around us.
One of the ways to convey scale when
photographing waves and storms is to capture a
human or animal in the scene.
In this picture, a lone surfer is taking a very deep
breath before duck-diving a 15-foot wave during
storm Ciaran.
The picture was taken at the Cribbar Reef, a big
wave spot just off Town Headland in Newquay.
The Cribbar is one of several big waves that light
up and come to life almost from nowhere when
the swell exceeds double figures and enough
water is pushed over the reef for the wave to
form.
I have spent many hours just watching this wave,
it has a foreboding but magical presence that
often attracts the whole town to the shoreline.
The textures of the water during storms can
resemble alien planets. The water, fire being
thrown out of a volcano with shards of shattered
glass and plumes of smoke.
Mother Nature puts on a display that tops
anything we as human beings could have ever
conceived.
This is the sole reason I picked up a camera.
I often find myself thinking about Cornish
history when watching storms, maybe because
the scene in front of me would not have been
any different 300 years ago.
How brutal a life it must have been, depending
on this unforgiving coast for a livelihood.
Storms were sometimes a godsend for those on
the fringe where the land meets the ocean. For
over 160 years coastal villagers from all walks
of life called “wreckers” lured ships towards the
shore in the hope of retrieving the vessel’s
bounty under maritime law after it had been
destroyed on the rocks.
This wave in its monochromatic form
accentuates the contrast between light and
shadow creating a symphony of raw power
and untaimed energy.
For me this point, where nature’s beauty and
fury intertwine evokes a sense of awe and
respect for the untamed forces that shape our
world and remind us of the past.
As we welcomed in November, Storm Ciaran had
already ravaged northern France causing
devastation as it pushed past the Channel Islands.
It was heading towards Cornwall without losing
momentum.
In its first day of hitting the UK over 150,000
homes were left without power. Trains were
halted, ferries and flights cancelled and hundreds
of schools closed.
However, on the second day, the wind had
dropped considerably and shifted offshore, the
clouds had dissipated but the ground swell was
still giant with a long period so I knew something
special might happen.
As the sun started to appear over the Granite lined
horizon I could start to make out mysterious
shapes and shadows.
There is a moment that can sometimes occur
within a storm when the sun breaks through
from behind the clouds and shoots straight onto
the face of the waves. The whole of nature
almost becomes a giant photography studio as
the world is lit perfectly.
The larger the waves the slower they move and
the more it can appear as if time is briefly
standing still.
It's here where I feel truly connected to the
nature.
Storm Babet provided the backdrop for this photograph in October with a full-force attack on the Cornish coastline. Massive damage was caused
by flooding and even seven lives were lost in the United Kingdom. Unusually Babet travelled Northerly and due to this, it was able to gather a
massive amount of extra water as it hurtled up the Bay of Biscay.
All the factors came together for this shot. The rain even stopped its relentless barrage for a brief moment, yet finding a way of keeping the camera
still in 60mph winds is always a challenge.