anti limited presents

Enjoying a brief Indian summer on a beach at the side of a Pennine reservoir. We started the summer with a heatwave; and despite a lot of rain in the last month, water levels are still significantly lower than they should be, exposing sandy foreshores and hitherto hidden features such as walls and gateposts.

This is Baitings reservoir near Ripponden: I’ve previously photographed this place as I love the sheltered, glassy surface of this stretch of water. This evening was truly glorious though, loved the light, and caught the sun just as it started to dip over the skyline. Shot as a 9 exposure HDR, which captured the full range of the sun’s colour and warmth.

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.

I was out walking with a mate on the tops near home when we saw how first-hand much damage the recent spate of moorland fires had wreaked on the landscape. I know this area fairly well: the conifers in the background were well-grown and obscured the view to the heather beyond. At least that was until the fires took over,  burning and blackening the heath, scrub, and many trees. More were scorched, their needles taking on unworldly hues, and fresh green growth was determinedly poking through the charred earth to make the most of the short summer.

Closer to the camera the pond had retreated into two smaller pools, sapped by the earlier heat of the summer. The cycle of devastation and rebirth painted a vivid picture: I was mesmerised by the colours and decided to shoot an HDR panorama. It was only part-way through we noticed a small spectrum-like flare either side of the sun, flanking it like two shimmering prisms. I’m really pleased to have unintentionally captured this uncommon phenomenon, known as sun dogs or parhelia, caused by sunlight refracting through high, icy cirrus clouds.

Incidentally this was the first pano I finished with HDR Expose, a new app to rival Enfuse and Photomatix which I’ve used for years to tonemap 32-bit images. Still getting to grips with this new tool, I like the more life-like results it allows than some HDR examples you see around the web.

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.

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.

At this time of the year the heather starts to flower, adding a lustrous, purple fuzz to the hilltops. Norland Moor is a great vantage point over Halifax, and is home to an almost uninterrupted sea of heather, accompanied by the sound of thousands of buzzing honey bees.

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

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.

Another view of Widdop Reservoir and the dam on a beautiful summer’s evening. I’d come here to carry out another photoshoot for a friend, but this vista (one of my favourites in the Pennines) was too good to leave with capturing in in 360°.

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

Another field coated in buttercups, under a glorious summer’s sun.

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