It's October and time to start thinking about the beach project again. Although overcast it was warm and the beach populated by inevitable walkers, with and without dogs. Apart from three metal detectorists there wasn't much going on. As usual there always seems to be unusual things taking place when there aren't as many people around. I spent most of my time taking rather pointless photographs of junk on the beach before making the place look deserted by hiding a dog walker, and their dog, behind the boat angling club's mobile cabin.
I'd photographed a couple of balls as I walked down to the shore and passed by a few on the sands. It was literally as I got back to my car that I spotted another ball hiding by the side of the footpath. It's number 418.
On my way south I'd noticed a bigger than usual pile of sand at the sandplant so called in on my way home to have a poke around. there has been a lot of ground cleared since my last visit. So much so that it's difficult to remember what it looked like where it meets the saltmarsh. The well trodden path around the old perimeter being the best clue.
Something I like doing at the sandplant is making pictures which mimic the tropes of what is called landscape photography. One favourite is the mountain reflected in a reedy lochan or tarn. A boulder or tree stump for foreground interest is often included for effect. I made do with a heap of sand instead of a mountain and some rubble in place of the boulders.
I think I prefer my detail of the lower slopes of the 'scree'.
It is almost a crime to include people in landscape photography but I can never understand why. I had taken a few shots of the plants growing in the puddle when a birdwatcher pushed his bike through the frame. To me that makes a more interesting picture. Not that it is all that interesting, but it's better than the frames without him!
I was glad he'd gone because his bike had been leaning against a sculpture-like pile of debris in the area I wanted to photograph. Piles of junk like this are difficult to make look right in photographs because much of their appeal is their three dimensionality.
As a continuing documentation of a gradually disappearing landscape feature these pictures have some merit, and as a body of work might eventually become more interesting in that context than they are individually. However, they're not as interesting to me as pictures of people doing things. Either to look at or to take. I need to get my finger out and sort out another people project.