Did you know 2023 is the Year of the Coast? Well…apparently so. If you’re into all that touristy marketing stuff, then this year is the turn of The Coast. Lucky for me, there’s plenty of nice coastline that’s relatively accessible from my little corner of Kent. From the old church ruins on the coast at Reculver to the White Cliffs to the otherworldly vibe of Dungeness and the old fishing boats (albeit rapidly disappearing it seems), there’s plenty to shoot and enjoy.

Recently I’ve been re-discovering an old part of the coast that I remember visiting as a kid, but not much in the last few <coughs> decades. Shakespeare beach is pretty iconic. The towering Shakespeare cliff dominates the view down the coast towards Samphire Hoe and on to Folkestone. I’ve been back a couple of times in recent weeks, trying to find some new compositions. It’s one of those places where there is one very obvious subject, but a limited number of options in terms of composition. That hasn’t stopped me from trying though, and I’ve enjoyed pottering around and trying to come up with something other than just plonking my tripod down and taking a quick shot. It’s a location too that seems to enjoy some of the biggest waves on the East Kent coast, even with only a moderate wind.

Shakespeare cliff with waves crashing on the beach — *38mm ƒ/8.0 1/6 ISO100*

Last time I visited, I noted there were some opportunities that, for whatever reason, I didn’t take advantage of (probably too distracted by the cliffs). Nothing particularly exciting, but the rocks and the sea made for some potential I didn’t really explore. This time howevever, with only a short amount of time available to me, I made my way further up the beach and tried out a couple of alternative shots, including of some old groynes (which seemed to be a theme of my weekend) that I hadn’t spotted on my last visit. I’ll be back there for more in the near future no doubt.

It’s this looking for details that I decided to focus on the following morning on a trip to The Warren near Folkestone. Thanks to a lift from the yellow jacket wearing Aga McPherson due to issues with my car (more on this another time), we spent a pretty cool (and overcast) morning wandering around the beach capturing the groynes and making the most of the perfect conditions for long exposure photography. Largely having the beach to ourselves, we set to work on capturing the classic East Kent location.

groynes in the sea — *15mm ƒ/5.6 0.8secs ISO100*

I’ve been to The Warren a fair few times in the past, and I always go for the same shots. Decaying groynes, water lapping or crashing around them, getting those textures in the water and on the groynes themselves. This time, however, I tried to look for some details on the beach. There’s always plenty of interest dotted around (it’s always been known as a good spot for fossil hunting - something that was an interest of mine as a child), and so I decided to see if I could get some more abstract shots on the beach, looking our for interesting details. This isn’t normally my style. I prefer the bigger, classic landscape views, but it was good to change things up and look for details…this is something that I’ve certainly found has improved as I’ve gone out and done more street photography.

I think perhaps my favourite of these that morning was this shot of an interesting rock (words I never thought I’d type on a blog post…). The mixture of orange and black, alongside the textures and shapes that have been formed by years of erosion made it more interesting than the average rock (again…words I never thought I’d type…). It was tricky to get the shot right, I’m not one for this kind of photography and rather than have the patience to focus stack it, I just tried to get it in one shot. Think I did ok.

It’s this sort of thing I think I need to do more of out in the landscape. Look for finer details. Try to look beyond the obvious shots. Nothing wrong with obvious shots, of course. Just, well, they are obvious. As I said before, I think my street photography helps here. I’m getting used to looking for little details here and there, pockets of light, interesting colours, shapes and textures. Bringing that kind of mentality to my landscape photography might help give a new dimension to my photography. Who knows, it may result in me investing in a macro lens and really going for those finer details. Ahhh, GAS. I wondered how long it would be before you would tap me on the shoulder and throw a new temptation in my face…

Right, off to check the tide times to work out where to head this weekend…hmm…

Last weekend I took a trip down to St Margaret’s Bay, just outside Dover. It’s a place that I’ve long had some sort of connection with. Of course it’s nextdoor to the town I grew up in, but I also have happy memories of spending time there in my twenties (ok, more in the way of hazy pub memories than scenics, but still…). It’s a place I keep finding myself going back to, taking in the views and enjoying the sea air.

There’s only a short promenade running along the Bay with either side cut off at high tide (checking tide times is essential if you are planning a visit). But it doesn’t really matter. With views of the White Cliffs either side of the Bay and the vast expanse of the Channel in front of you, the scenary is pretty spectacular. And when the light is right, it really is on another level altogether.

At this time of year, the sunrises are stunning when the clouds allow it (and fortunately, the car park behind the Bay is free in the winter!). The photo at the top of this post was taken just after sunrise on a cold January morning. The conditions were spot on. The tide was coming in, there was interest in the sky, and the light on the cliffs themselves was perfect and ever-changing - from pink to yellow to white.

With the waves crashing down ever nearer, and growing louder with each crash onto the shore, I set up my tripod and went for a long exposure shot with my 10 step ND filter (a Christmas gift). I was pretty pleased with the results. Needless to say, with the busiest shipping lane in the world in the scene, it was difficult to avoid getting blurry shapes on the horizon as the various ferries and cargo ships slid from left to right, or from right to left. But the timing was just right and I managed to get a good clean shot. Even looking at it now, I can feel the cold wind brushing my face and the sound of the waves getting more frantic, more aggressive.

A few more shots later, and I packed my things, munched on a flapjack and made my way back up the narrow, windy road away from the Bay and back into the village, through the streets that I hazily recall stumbling through in my youth, before heading back up the A2 to Canterbury. My trips to St Margaret’s may not be as frequent as I would like, but unlike the hazy memories of my youth, they are certainly memorable.