Hi, welcome to the first of what I hope will be an intriguing series for those interested in getting a peek at what goes on behind the scenes. I’m not entirely sure what I mean by “behind the scenes,” to be honest, given that this is the first installment. Is it the adventure? The photography? The writing? Perhaps a bit of everything that comes to mind. “Ons sal sien” (we shall see), as we would say back home in South Africa. I envision blog posts like this one to follow the photo essays.
This is where you’ll hopefully see what I’ll refer to as the ordinary side of Abhay. It’s the part of me that the other side – the inordinary side – is entirely dependent on. Why, you ask? Or maybe you don’t, but I need to say what I need to say, so bear with me. Well, you see, those deep thoughts and my ponderings on life are entirely inspired by my photos as explained in my first YouTube video. Oh, you didn’t know? Yes, I have a YouTube channel where I take you with me on my cinematic photo-walks as well as share my thought spills with you. If you resisted the urge to click on that link, kudos to you. Here’s a single-sentence synopsis of that first YouTube video: I discussed Dattatreya and how he had not one, not two, but 24 Gurus that inspired his state of enlightenment.
In many ways, I am inspired to see meaning, just like him, in the ordinary everyday encounters along his journey of life – all be it my lens is the conduit to my inspiration. While he probably had deep profound thoughts as and when he encountered his various Gurus, more often than not, mine come about in the editing room where I find my flow state. That is unlikely the only difference given that we do believe him to be an avatar of God and well, while I would love to be a God; or would I? I’m not. Anyway, I digress.
Returning to the proceedings that led to the capturing of the photos you see in this series and the subsequent photo essay on drawing a line in the sand. A friend of mine came down from London to spend a week in Cornwall, ostensibly to benefit from my sharing some of my corporate knowledge with him. The fact that we never found time for that is probably a good sign of how the week unfolded—with us hiking, returning exhausted to cook my South African favorite, the chip roll, or his ramen delight, working from various cafes in Cornwall (which is unusual for me), or going kayaking. Although the week was packed with adventures, we still missed a successful sunset or sunrise mission. Not witnessing either when coming to Cornwall is, in my opinion, as good as going to the movies without butter-flavoured popcorn (which I see is the norm in “first-world” countries such as the UK and Aus), how dare you?
Cornwall is the stuff of fairytales, and I always make it a point to have my visitors leave sharing that sentiment. Standing in the way of my noble intentions, however, was the month of February and the typical English weather that brings. If it wasn’t raining, it most certainly was grim and gray. Our chances of catching that elusive golden hour were getting slimmer given that it was the last day before he returned to the metropolis that is London. With it being the last day, we decided we would give North Cornwall a shot. We both wrapped up our enviable work-from-home jobs and headed off to one of my favourite beaches – Watergate Bay.
I cannot remember ever regretting a sunset mission and this time was no different. We arrived just in time to catch a glimpse of golden hour.
With my Sony A7IV and the Sony A7III cameras in hand, my friend and I wasted no time in capturing the expansive landscape surrounding the bay, now bathed in the glorious gold of the setting sun. One of us had the Sigma 24-70 mm f2.8 (my favorite lens) and the other had the Sony 70-200 f2.8 GM (perfect for a place like Watergate Bay). Here are some of the photos from the roadside parking on the hill overlooking the bay.
We strolled down to the beach, where the shoreline seemed to stretch endlessly along the bay, the horizon blending seamlessly into the distance. My friend had the 70-200mm f/2.8 lens in hand when I spotted two surfers making their way back to the car park, boards tucked under their arms. After more than eight years of practicing this art form, the images I make with my camera are often just a rendering of a visual I already have imprinted in my mind. I knew that this lens, at around the 200 mm mark, would be perfect for capturing the essence of the moment—isolating the two surfers while also emphasizing the stunning landscape that surrounds them. The scene was more than just two friends finishing a surf session; it was a story told through the majestic cliffs, the expansive bay, and the powerful waves that had just cradled their ride. The lens would allow me to encapsulate not just the subjects but the grandeur of the location, ensuring the imagery conveys the deeper narrative of a shared experience at a breathtakingly beautiful spot.
I don’t remember the moment entirely, but I think I might have even described the image I had in mind to my friend so he could capture it. Either way, we swapped cameras, and I moved into position to bring the vision in my mind to life. This is how it turned out.
I’m of course blowing my own horn in saying so but I think they are frame-worthy. Seldom is it the case that I place black and white edits on my photos due to the deep love I have for colour but something about this scene just called for it. You might think otherwise and well that is entirely alright.
It was shortly after capturing the above scene that we headed off in the other direction when I came across the headline photo below which prompted my reflections on what drawing a line in the sand means to me. These two gentlemen, presumably taking a post-work beach walk just like the two of us, were walking ahead of us before the guy on the left stopped and stooped over to draw in the sand. Naturally, I seized the opportunity and fired away with my camera, knowing this photo would likely hold more meaning than meets the eye.
There are some photos that I make that I deem frame-worthy and then there are those, ordinary photos such as this one, that I find worth framing in my mind as a signpost for life. These are the moments that, though seemingly ordinary, take on extraordinary significance when viewed through the lens of my life’s experiences, struggles, and triumphs.
These are the photos that hold more meaning for me, as they serve as constant reminders of a quote I resonate with by Viktor Frankl: “Between stimulus and response, there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.” Whether I see someone drawing a line in the sand as just that or as an awakening is entirely a matter of attitude and perspective. I’d advise you to opt for the latter, but hey, you do you. Since this isn’t meant to be a deep dive, I’ll spare you from going any further down that rabbit hole.
We continued our walk to the other end of the bay and back, taking in the views in peaceful silence, before paying a cave a little visit and wrapping up what turned out to be a truly memorable adventure in North Cornwall. Although we did head out on one last sunrise mission the next morning, I’ll leave it at that considering this is already much longer than I intended!
I hope that you enjoyed tagging along.
Until the next one.
Abhay.