There’s no denying that my home county is full of famous spots, many of which are regularly besieged by photographers of all kinds throughout the seasons. Whether you’re a phone wielding Instaselfie sensation showing yourself off in front of legions of admiring followers, or a humble old curmudgeon with a bag of camera equipment and a rather more modest audience, you'll find plenty of things to take pictures of, and there’s always room for a new addition to the list of favourite places on the local circuit. I hope to photograph Godrevy, Holywell Bay, Wheal Coates and Botallack many more times before my bearings give out, but at the same time I’m consciously looking for new locations on the doorstep to photograph. Fortunately for me, it’s a bountiful doorstep.
Less than two weeks since the first time I’d ever taken photographs at Bosigran Head, we were back here again. And once again, my sunset plans were overtaken by something else that had caught my eye. In this case, it was something I’d noticed on our first and only previous visit, two years earlier on a sunny May afternoon. I remembered thinking it would be the ideal winter shot, with the sun sinking into the back of the frame near Pendeen Lighthouse on a colourful December afternoon. Surely there was little point in looking at it until then was there? Big waves smashing onto the rocks under a soft winter sun? Perfect.
But then again, why not today? I was here with heather on my mind, and on top of the headland I was struggling to find any that met the brief as far as foregrounds go. For a while, Ali and I found comfortable rocks upon which to sit near the top of Bosigran Head, listening to the sea and the squeezebox cries of riotous choughs coming screeching across the still air. It’s a wonderful place to tune out of life; to sit and watch the world on a lazy summer afternoon. Every so often a climber or two would appear from beneath the ridge, hard hat first as they made their final moves to the top. Quite where they’d started from and how they got there, I can’t really say. One young lady asked us if we were climbing too. Given our ages, we were both quite flattered that it had even crossed her mind we might be capable of scaling the sheer cliffs that plunge decisively into the ocean below. I was getting wobbly legs whenever I looked over the side. And I don’t have any particular issues with vertigo. If you do, you might want to bring a blindfold. And somebody you trust your life with.
After a while, we decided to walk towards Porthmeor Cove, just a short distance to the north of here, along a very quiet South West Coast Path. We met just one couple coming the other way, him sitting nobly on an outcrop like Rodin’s Thinker, reading a novel while she laboured up the slope some distance behind with a red faced grin. One uphill and two downhills later, I recognised the low rocky area I’d spotted two years ago. Now it was Ali’s turn to sit at the top, her nose buried in a book, while I disappeared down towards a rocky area of scrub not far from the water, where I found some strategically placed purple heather that was in perfect bloom. And just like that previous visit a couple of weeks earlier, it felt like a case of now or next year, because those flowers don’t last forever. In the golden hour, the scene might catch a touch of summer glow. But there were still nearly three hours until sunset. Besides which, this was just a walk. The camera was in the van, a twenty minute (mostly) uphill yomp away. Back to the van for supper, and then I’d reverse that yomp back to this exact same spot.
I still think the area around Bosigran Head has immense winter potential, and I’ve never seen another photograph of this stunning view towards Pendeen Lighthouse. But while I certainly plan to return towards the end of the year, I was clearly wrong to write off its ability to harness a summer sunset. And there’s enough interest in a scene like this to overcome a featureless sky as far as I’m concerned. We all love a colourful cloudscape, but it doesn’t have to be a deal breaker. Sometimes it can even be a distraction. For me, there’s enough going on in the sea and on the land to hold the eye here. This beautiful wild place at the edge of the world can stand up on its own, especially when the heather is in full bloom. A new favourite now sits on the local circuit, waiting for the next time, whatever that may bring.
