I imagine my legs like pistons. Steam pressure forcing them in endless cycles. My mind grasps for any mental image that will force some extra energy from my aching muscles. Turning a corner onto the home stretch is like colliding with an invisible wall. I head strait into the full force of the wind. No peleton here for protection. A deal struck, energy expended here to be repaid later in time on the water.
Endless time wondering. Hoping. Never quite sure. Never quite certain. But to peer through morning curtains and look upon inverted umbrellas, far slung rubbish escaping from within bins as if errant children let loose from the hands of their stalwart parents. This sight turns hope to certainty. No if. No but. Just the knowledge of imminent adventure. Ultimately the rest is just delays.
This blog has never really been about me. The photos were mine but the action and the adventures were collective.
In seventy posts my face has appeared but a handful of times and that is the way I like it. But things are more than a little different now.
New job. New home. New corner of the world.
The friends I used to spend most every day with throughout the summer are now in the east and the west, with me in the south we cover three points of the compass and sessions together are far fewer than once upon a time. But finding myself as I now do with a plethora of new spots and miles of coastline to explore hopefully there will be more stories to tell than ever. But the geographic dissolution of my friends necessitates I am now the hero of my own adventures, and if you are going to be a hero there is only way to take photos. It’s a little different from what I am used to that’s for sure.
More than anything seeing my friends blogs, seeing their adventures keeps me connected to them. We don’t kite together as much anymore but that doesn’t mean we can’t share in each other’s sessions. This blog is no longer a chronicle of our adventures, but one story of many.
These are the other chapters if you want to read the whole book. I can assure you that at times these stories will intermingle criss-cross and amalgamate. At other they will diverge and spin off on their own trajectories. But they will never exist in isolation.
The same old characters will pop up again but for now there will be much more me and I am probably more uncomfortable with that than anyone.
But here goes.
Inspiration and desire seem to wax and wane within me like the changing phases of the moon. For close to half a decade my camera was an appendage to be found at the end of my right hand. But for many months my camera’s new residence within its bag has remained undisturbed. But upon picking up ‘Seven Degrees’ by Andy Gotts I found my new hero. I went out and bought a flash made in the 70′s and an umrella that would do little good in a downpour for less than the price of a pack of haribo.
And this is where we find ourselves, back with my camera, back with some inspiration…Fancy a photo, get in touch.