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Having grown up in Northern Ireland, the Giant’s Causeway was the place you’d always take visitors. Internationally recognised, visually impressive, geologically distinctive, culturally neutral: even at the height of the Troubles when other places may’ve been off-limits , the Causeway was the tourist destination. Rightly so: it’s a wonderous and crazy-looking place, with hexagonal columns formed by basalt cooling rapidly. No wonder in the days before we had an understanding of vulcanology the locals believed it was built by the giant Fionn mac Cumhaill: a much more romantic explanation.

Trouble is, it’s (justifiably) extremely popular, and so viewing it without hordes of sightseeing visitors is nigh on impossible, except in publicity photographs. Apart from on a Friday night when there’s a World Cup match on, so most people are either glued to the telly or going out for the night. Result…

I don’t think I’ve ever seen the bay around the main causeway look as magical. The sea was calm, there was hardly a cloud in the sky, and the sun slowly dropped towards the horizon, painting the vista with increasing saturated colours. With so few people around we felt like we had the place to ourselves, for which I was incredibly appreciative. Such emptiness made it easier to understand the scale and beauty of the natural features. Truly magical.

Click below for a full screen 360° view of the scene with Flash, to read more on Wikipedia, to see the location in Google Earth, or to view an iPhone/iPad/iPod Touch compatible version.

Click below for a full screen 360° view of the scene with Flash, to read more on Wikipedia, to see the location in Google Earth, or to view an iPhone/iPad/iPod Touch compatible version.

A perfect summer’s evening. While much of the country was listening to the England vs Algeria football match, we had most of the north Antrim coast to ourselves. I’d rather enjoy this view over a game of football any day…

Ballintoy‘s long been a family favourite: a wonderfully diminutive harbour, nestled between fantastical rock formations. I’ve always loved the eccentric detail of Bendhu house, the solid understated character of the parish church, and the limestone cliffs and workings.

Click below for a full screen 360° view of the scene with Flash, to read more on Wikipedia, or see the location in Google Earth.

These spectacular views are of the Bregagh Road, between Stranocum and Armoy in County Antrim. The ‘Dark Hedges‘, as it’s affectionately known around those parts, is a long avenue of beech trees running down the gentle undulations of this minor road. My mum had heard about this place, popular with couples on their wedding day, from a friend who spoke vividly about seeing it in the moonlight as a child. Neither of us had been here before, and we eventually found it with some help from Google Maps on iPhone.

The long lines of trees are incredibly striking, arching across the road almost as far as the eye can see. It’s become much more well-known in the last few years, their fame spreading as a result of their obvious attraction to photographers. Although it’s a fairly quiet road I had to abort several attempts at these panoramas due to cars driving slowly along the arched avenue… other folk were out enjoying the view too.

I decided to convert these shots to black and white to concentrate more on the form and structure of the trees; and to help conjure up their name more dramatically. Shooting this on a bright, clear summer’s day, the beech trunks shone vividly against the viridescent back-lit leaves. I think it’s much more powerful this way though…

Click below for a full screen 360° view of the scene with Flash, to see the location in Google Earth, or to view an iPhone/iPad/iPod Touch compatible version.

Click below for a full screen 360° view of the scene with Flash, to see the location in Google Earth, or to view an iPhone/iPad/iPod Touch compatible version.

Inside an old-fashioned outhouse workshop on a vacant farmstead in County Antrim, near the village of Cullybackey. The abandoned farm lies a short distance from the picturesque Arthur Cottage, the ancestral home of the 21st President of the USA, Chester Alan Arthur.

This is deep in prime agricultural country; the fields around are filled with new barley and potatoes. However farming life isn’t always easy, and while the fields look verdant and well stocked, derelict farms and cottages pay silent testimony to a time when more folk worked the land around here. Who knows what lives once lit up the walls of this building, and whose voices rang out across the farm?

The whole site seemed remarkably peaceful and undisturbed when I visited and captured this scene. I wanted to encapsulate this feeling of restful timelessness within the panorama, to let the space tell its own story with a thousand tiny details, so I took my time and shot multiple exposures to combine later. I think the results were worth it.

This was my contribution to the most recent Worldwide Panorama event, entitled ‘Forgotten Places’. The version on that site was enfused: I revisited the scene after submittingf that, and this version is based on a 9 exposure HDR set, then tonemapped.

Click the icons below for a fullscreen 360° view of the scene in Flash, or to locate the scene in Google Earth.

An old milking byre, part of an abandoned farmstead near Cullybackey in County Antrim. There’s so much going on in this view: huge ranges in light, loads of texture on the walls and ceiling. Of course, dung and mould may not be obviously attractive subjects, but they make for a fascinating scene. HDR created from a 9 exposure sequence, then tonemapped.

Click the icons below for a fullscreen 360° view of the scene in Flash, or to locate the scene in Google Earth.

Mount Stewart, historical seat of the Marquesses of Castlereagh, on the Ards Peninsula in County Down. Now a National Trust property, the gardens have been immaculately restored to their former glory. Look below at the main house from the Italian and Irish gardens respectively.

Click below for a fullscreen 360° view of the scene in Flash, or for more info in Google Earth and Wikipedia.

Click below for a fullscreen 360° view of the scene in Flash, or for more info in Google Earth and Wikipedia.

I’m starting to make a habit of shooting panoramas from random follies: perhaps there’s a gap in the market I’ve found to exploit. However when the view’s this good, who’s complaining?

I’ve vague memories of once climbing up Scrabo Hill towards the tower when I was a kid, but despite growing up relatively close by, I was never able to climb up the tower itself. Closed for much of the Troubles, Scrabo Tower was the monument on the hill above Newtownards which watched silently as we made family trips towards the Ards peninsula and Strangford Lough. Newtownards was the home of the Lee factory seconds shop and Woolco, an ill-fated Woolworths-owned superstore in the 70s: cue family shopping expeditions galore. In the monochromatic and often fearful 70s, this was the last hurrah of global retail culture before the delights of the country and seaside beyond. I was always happier with a shrimping net and a a lucky bag than a pair of hardwearing brown corduroy trousers…

Part of me could look enviously upwards because Scrabo Tower, made more mysterious by its unapproachability, sat upon a glorious perch above some of the delights of County Down. The rich, perfectly manicured fields around Comber, Norn Irn’s vegetable heartland (as an expatriate my heart beats a little faster at the thought of Ulster Sceptres or Kerr’s Pinks from Comber… perhaps the perfect buttered spuds). Looking further afield, across verdant egg-shaped drumlins to St Patrick’s historic townlands; across the mosaic of half-hidden islands in Strangford Lough, to the beaches and villages scattered along the arm of the Ards Peninsula, Scrabo Tower has stood impassively atop this volcanic plug for over 150 years. What a view it’s had in that time.

Click below for a series of fullscreen 360° views of the scene in Flash, or for more info in Google Earth and Wikipedia.

Belfast City Hall from Donegall Square East, Belfast.

I’m sure it’s probably called the Belfast Eye: however I’ll just call it the Big Wheel, as that sounds more Belfast. So, is it just me, or is every city joining the big wheel club? London certainly set the trend, but the provincial cities have been playing catchup. I didn’t go up on the wheel: I just stood there waving at a bunch of wee lads who were grinning from ear to ear as they zoomed round in the cars. Then I shot my pano, secretly wishing I’d also been enjoying the ride on the wheel. Ah well, there’s always the Manchester one to go on again …

Click here to view a fullscreen Flash panorama of the scene.

In front of the magnificent City Hall, Belfast… which was closed for renovation. For ages.

Click here to view a fullscreen Flash panorama of the scene.

By the River Lagan, Belfast

Standing by the Lagan on a sunny day, one can view the recently built Lagan Weir, a large ceramic fish scuplture, the Albert Clock, and the grand Customs House.

Click here to view a fullscreen Flash panorama of the scene.