Bollards on Sea - a photo on Flickriver

Bollards on Sea

            The “bollards” quip has never gone away since I first saw a lighthouse picture in Steve’s feed one morning.  My half innocent jest that the functional looking edifice might have lacked the glamour of some of the lighthouses I’m more used to seeing at home, and that it looked a bit like a large traffic bollard was the cause of great amusement rather than offence, so much so that’s it’s turned into a bit of a private joke.  Do join though won’t you?  Of course bollards have no business on these lonely islets along the west coast of Sweden, whereas lighthouses are entirely relevant to the surroundings.  And here at the coast near Lysekil, they proliferate like rabbits in springtime.  I tried counting them from where we were standing, but kept losing track and having to start again.  I guess “functional” works when so many are needed to keep shipping where it belongs - i.e in the sea rather than at the bottom of it.

In fact we were standing in the lee of a bollard now, and although it looked like a particularly fetching beach hut, it clearly wasn’t one.  There was no beach for starters.  Initially we photographed the beach hut, I mean lighthouse, before pointing our cameras out to sea, where a series of stormy squalls was racing northwards along the horizon in a scene packed with moody blues that enveloped patches of intense yellow light and distant curtains of black pouring rain.  Although the bad weather remained far out to sea, a strong wind blew across the surprisingly smooth granite eiderdown at our feet, making anything other than fast exposures tricky.  Quite why it took us so long to realise that if we used the small lighthouse to protect us from it and enable longer exposures I’m not sure.  But the penny eventually hit the ground as the internal lightbulbs caught up with the local theme and briefly flickered on and off again.  I planted my tripod immediately beside the squat building - it really would make a lovely beach house - and hoped nobody else came along to photograph it this evening.  Now I could experiment with shutter speeds without losing everything to an unintentional camera movement series of images.

Meanwhile beside me, Steve’s body appeared to have been possessed by a curious yelping demon.  Had he been at Sherlock’s food bowl during the night I wondered?  Every few moments, almost immediately after each flash of lightning he would squeal excitedly.  “Did you get that one?”  “No,” I replied.  “Ooh there’s another!  Did you get that one Dom?”  Again, “nope, missed it” in response.  This carried on for much of the evening.  Of course it was Steve who had the big moment of fortune here, somehow managing to hit his shutter at exactly the same moment that a bolt of forked lightning connected clouds and water, and the excited cries reached a crescendo that was matched only by the sound of thunder out to sea.  By now I was trying a series of twenty second exposures, and even though there was definitely a flash of lightning during at least one of them, it didn’t appear in any of the raw files.  Talk about having someone steal your thunder.

I decided instead to focus on the light and the bollards out to sea, taking shot after shot of the unfolding drama.  Late on, a trio of cumulonimbus sauntered across the scene, riding above the storm like prophets of doom, leading their flock towards somewhere unseen.  We took a few final shots of the small lighthouse as more heavy clouds gathered and threatened to change course in our direction, and then we were away towards the car in the failing light, bracing ourselves for the first bullets of rain.  Behind us the chasing weather front gave up and returned to sea.  We stayed dry after all.

It’s a spectacular place.  Pretty little waterfront towns and big wide open seascapes covered in bollards - I mean lighthouses.  Even if you have a squealing, overexcited person standing three feet away, screaming into your right ear each time the sky lights up and reminding you that they managed to photograph a lightning bolt, you’re going to enjoy being here.  At least as long as you can race back to the car before those bolts start landing around you that is.

Taken in: Sweden / Västra Götaland / Rinkenäs (show map)

Taken on: September 13, 2025

Tags:

Sweden

Coast

seascape

Sea

Island

Lighthouse

skerries

skerry

cloud

thunder

weather

drama

rain

Nikon

Scandinavia

Ocean

Skagerrak

prophets

doom

sunset

water

Lysekil

Europe

Sverige

sky

blue

Stångehuvud

Bohuslän

Cumulonimbus « less

Sets appears in: • Scandinavia 2025 • Sweden

Groups appears in: • Sweden • Scandinavian Delight more » • "SEASCAPE" • Photography Week • Amateur Photographer Magazine • Flickr Social • National Geographic Scandinavia « less

Camera: Nikon Z 7_2, f/8.0, 1/20 sec, 50mm, ISO 64 (more info) (hide info)

Camera:	Nikon Z 7_2
Lens:	NIKKOR Z 28-400mm f/4-8 VR
Aperture:	f/8.0
Exposure Time:	0.05 sec (1/20)
Focal Length:	50mm
ISO:	64
Exposure Bias:	-2/3 EV
Flash:	No Flash
Exposure Program:	Aperture-priority AE
Exposure Mode:	Auto
Metering Mode:	Multi-segment
White Balance:	Auto
Color Space:	Uncalibrated
Software:	Adobe Photoshop Lightroom Classic 14.5.1 (Macintosh)
Show full info

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