Photography at Bowerman’s Nose: Dartmoor’s Most Famous Tor
Legend has it that Bowerman’s Nose was once a real hunter, transformed into stone by a coven of disgruntled witches.
Having made the steep, relentless plod up from the Manaton car park, I must say I find myself sympathizing with the witches. Carrying a heavy iron cauldron up that incline is precisely the sort of activity to put anyone in a thoroughly foul mood.
However he came to be, Bowerman is easily one of the most delightfully absurd and distinctive granite tors on all of Dartmoor.
To Drone or Not to Drone? Photographing Postbridge in Dartmoor
Postbridge Clapper Bridge has spent years languishing on my landscape photography bucket list, yet I had never quite managed to capture the scene I held in my mind’s eye. For me, the magic lies in framing both the historic 14th century clapper bridge and the neighbouring 18th century road bridge together in a single shot.
The lay of the land, however, presents a devilish little topographical challenge, a hurdle that could easily be solved by gaining just a few extra feet of altitude. The very altitude, of course, that has been denied to me by a foolish obligation to pay for trivial luxuries like food and shelter rather than vital camera gear.
Braving the Elements: A Rugged Dartmoor Fitness Photoshoot (And One Very Tired Photographer)
Photoshoot complete, our local fitness hero packed away an alarming number of heavy weights and assorted equipment without looking like he had broken so much as a single sweat. Meanwhile, a red-faced, slightly rotund photographer trudged back to his own car, feeling very much like a broken man.
It was a brilliant day of Devon commercial photography, capturing the raw, authentic grit of outdoor training. When Gavin officially launches his new Dartmoor fitness venture, I highly recommend checking it out, though you might find me at the back of the class, catching my breath.
The Wondrous Burden of the Dartmoor Enthusiast
Now, here is where the story takes a turn toward the utterly unbelievable. My droning and the accompanying cavalcade of rocks apparently served as a siren song, a peculiar, moorland-scented siren song, to Brian and Sue, who promptly decided to haul themselves all the way from the reliably sunny (or so I imagine) flatlands of Norfolk to our gloriously lumpy corner of the globe.
From Screen to Summit: My Dartmoor Photography & Wild Camp Experience
Emerging from my "man cave" – which, at this point, more closely resembled a troglodyte's dwelling – with eyes blazing red and a spine curved like a question mark, it became abundantly clear that fresh air wasn't just a suggestion, it was a medical necessity. Hunching over a glowing screen for 48 hours straight is hardly the ideal training regimen for tackling Dartmoor. And the 1.5-mile ascent (yes, I did measure it, mostly out of a burgeoning sense of self-pity) to Great Mis Tor hammered that point home with the subtlety of a runaway train. Mercifully, about two-thirds of the way up, you encounter Little Mis Tor, a sort of granite amuse-bouche, a charming little foretaste designed to spur you on to the main course.