Walking into the depths of a coal mine – even one that has been long-since abandoned – is a scary prospect. To consider on top of everything that the mine actually extends under the ocean is even more terrifying.
I wasn’t yet into a DSLR by summer of 2008, but I was definitely getting more creative with my photography. I would take a camera with me every time my son and I would go for a walk in the Peak District, and I loved capturing his childish joy and excitement in bounding from boulder to boulder across the moors.
This was one of our many treks into the wilderness, and the colors and clouds were just spectacular.
In 2006, I was just starting to get excited by photography. I only had an old point-and-shoot, but it had a few manual controls and allowed me to explore the options available while still making most photos come out reasonably decent.
Sometimes, on days off, I would take a drive through the Peak District surrounding the northern English city of Sheffield, where I lived. One of my favorite locations was Strines Moor, which comprises several rolling hills and valleys, covered in heather. The thing about heather is that for 10-11 months of the year, it’s an ugly brown, but in late summer the flowers begin to bloom, and all of a sudden the moors are aglow with purple and lavender, and in the crisp high wind it’s absolutely stunning.
This lonely tower is my favorite part of Strines Moor, mainly because I don’t know anything about it. It’s a solitary mystery, a lonesome relic of the past, and whilst some people might know what it is and why it’s there, I’d rather be in the dark.
Satis Writes 