A Guide to Capturing the British Firework Championship

There are certain events in this country that simply cannot be avoided. One of them, if you happen to live in these parts, is the British Firework Championship. It's a time honored tradition that, like an over enthusiastic houseguest, shows up once a year and promptly takes over your entire social media feed with a thunderous barrage of bangs and flashes. It would be churlish, and perhaps a bit antisocial, to resist. And so, I too found myself drawn to the siren call of loud noises and pretty lights.

Years ago, I’d already bagged the classic shot, the one every camera club member from here to the Scottish borders has in their portfolio, of the fireworks exploding in a shower of sparks behind the lighthouse. This time, I decided to be more ambitious. I set myself a new challenge: find a different composition entirely. My grand idea was to zoom in with a long lens and frame Mount Batten tower under a relentless barrage of light.

A quick glance at a map told me that the prime viewing location for this particular bit of photographic genius was from a spot called Devil’s Point, which sounds less like a place to enjoy a convivial evening and more like the kind of place where one might sign away one’s soul. But don’t let the name put you off. It’s actually a perfectly pleasant spot, handily located just across the way from the Royal William Yard, a place teeming with opportunities for a bit of liquid refreshment before the pyrotechnic assault begins. So much so, that I consider it an personal triumph that i managed to actually put the tripod up at all.

I carefully set up my shot, framing the tower in my viewfinder and waiting for the show to begin. With each boom and flash, I held my breath, hoping to capture the perfect moment. The result? A new photograph, one that's uniquely mine and not just another postcard cliché. It's a reminder that sometimes, the best view is the one you create for yourself, even if it means venturing to a place with a devilish name.

Fireworks over Mount Batten Tower

Pre-Season Photographic Pain: My Battle with the Northern Hemisphere's Night Sky

Once again, it was that time of year when sleep, that most cherished of human pastimes, became a quaint and distant memory. It seems that the universe, in its infinite wisdom and rather limited sense of fair play, has decreed that for us northern-hemisphere dwellers, the magnificent Milky Way is visible for a brief, four-hour window each night. Just as you’re getting comfortable, our local star, the Sun, barges in and spoils the whole affair with its rather inconsiderate brightness.

But wait, there's more! You also have to wait for the moon, that celestial busybody, to scoot below the horizon, further whittling down the already slim pickings. It's little wonder then that the bags under my eyes have reached a size and weight that would likely attract a surcharge from even the most lenient of budget airlines.

Given this rather stingy schedule, it was no great shock to discover that I was utterly out of practice. Just getting the blooming subject into some semblance of focus felt less like a skill and more like a minor miracle. The camera, a relatively new acquisition with a menu system that appeared to have been designed by a saboteur with a particular dislike for photographers, only added to the festive mood. I was fully prepared for the whole evening to end in a fit of rage, with a camera unceremoniously hurled into the darkness.

Fortunately, my target for the night was "The Pimple," an object blessedly easy to find, albeit, located in a spot where the local ponies were known to view camera equipment as a late-night snack. A quick stroll from the car, followed by some enthusiastic waving of a torch, (I'm sure the local wildlife was thoroughly confused) and I was done. The whole exercise felt less like a magnificent triumph and more like a hard-fought pre-season victory. It wasn't my finest work, to be sure, but at least I felt a little more prepared for the next cosmic challenge.