Snow...

Woke up this morning, in Scarborough, to find the first snowfall of winter. It was quite a surprise. I should have stayed where I was a while longer, because the road out of town was full of lorries and cars going nowhere. I managed to find a pull-in; better to get some writing done than just stare blankly at the traffic gridlock...

Sailing in the docks at Hartlepool...

Spital Inn...

Stayed last night at the Spital Inn campsite, near Scarborough (there aren't many campsites open in the last week of November). I processed a lot of pix, including images of the Rochdale Canal in Hebden Bridge, looking rather autumnal. Strange how the eye is drawn to a figure in the landscape, no matter how small...

Redcar beach...

Three different ways, in one pic, of harnessing the wind... 

Hartlepool...

Hartlepool is as far north as I'll head on this trip. Had a morning taking pix around the town's marina, and I'll be going south, down the coast, maybe to Staithes, before winding up with friends in Scarborough on Tuesday night...

Pix...

Another night of Ashes cricket commentary and fitful sleep; after two days the game is still too close to call. Good news about pic sales on Alamy, in that the search criteria appear to have changed. It means my pix will appear nearer the top of relevant searches… and that will lead to more sales. Hooray… 

Redcar...

Exploring old haunts along the coast I wound up in Redcar, where the steelworks no longer lights up the night sky. Had a quick look around the town’s charity shops (one emporium boasts an entire DVD section devoted to films about serial killers).

I got some pix of the offshore wind turbines, with dramatic clouds behind them, and saw herring gulls dropping shells onto the stone-flagged esplanade from a height, hoping to smash them open. Even though it doesn’t always work, it’s still a clever trick. I saw turnstones too: small wading birds which have more traditional ways of finding food (the clue’s in the name)…

First test...

I was tucked up in bed when the first ball was bowled at the Gabba. Having won the toss, Joe Root decided to bat. My main hope was that England would finish day one of the first test by still being in the game, rather than being blown away by the Aussie bowlers. At 196 for 4, at stumps, the game seems evenly poised. It wasn’t the most exciting day’s cricket, but intriguing enough. And England’s middle order batsmen all got enough runs to leave me hoping that we can get to a first innings total of 400…

The Ashes...

I listened to commentary from the women’s T20 game against the Aussies: a good win even if they couldn’t reclaim the Ashes (and I wish they could inaugurate a new trophy; the Ashes it ain’t!). It put me in the mood for the men’s Ashes, which begins tomorrow night. I’ll be wide awake in some lay-by or market square, listening to the first ball from the Gabba… hopefully drifting in and out of consciousness as England take wickets or pile on the runs...

The Whalebone...

Felt dog rough these past few days. If there was any resale value in mucus, I could go into production. Wound up in Hull, parked next to the marina, and got a lot of writing done. There’s a special satisfaction in getting the words down even when my head is spinning. And I got pix of Hull, as I walked out of the city, keeping as close as possible to the tidal mudbanks of the River Hull. In the middle of this post-industrial wasteland - all graffiti, razor wire and alsatians - I found a wonderfully welcoming pub, the Whalebone. I sat next to a woodburning stove, nursing a pint, feeling that life wasn't so bad after all…

Hebden Bridge...

Back in Hebden Bridge: always a bittersweet experience. When I moved here, years ago, I thought I’d found my place. The good times were very good indeed, but the bad times were horrible… and it’s the bad times that I recall most strongly as I take a stroll. I still have no idea why some people in town accused me of being a paedophile (I’m writing now about the dangers of believing things without good evidence, and this episode was a classic example).

I remember sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, surrounded by broken glass, realising that having a mouth that tasted of ashes was more than a metaphor. I knew the craziness was unlikely to end. It might have died down, after a few months, or years, but there would never be any genuine resolution. I locked myself away, then, a few weeks later, left…

Twilight in Selby...

Knaresborough...

The snug, Blind Jack's...

Mother Shipton, gazing into the future, with Blind Jack's in the background...

Fairburn Ings...

I spent a few hours wandering around Fairburn Ings, an RSPB reserve created from old colliary tips, wedged between motorways, bordered on one side by the River Aire and overlooked by Ferrybridge power station. It’s an unlikely spot for a bird reserve, but birds don’t share our sense of the aesthetic. If they can find a territory, sources of food and nesting sites, they’re happy to ignore the grot.

I saw plenty of ducks: tufted duck, pochard, wigeon, shoveler and shelduck, also gooseander and some great crested grebes (including one still in breeding plumage). A pair of little grebes, so tiny they’d fit in the palm of your hand, were ducking and diving. Best of all was a pair of goldeneye, a handsome little diving duck...

A visitor to one of the hides at Fairburn Ings...

Cyclists at Fairburn Ings...

Blacktoft Sands...

Called in at Blacktoft Sands, an RSPB reserve just south of the Humber. No great numbers of waders, but still one or two surprises: redshank, spotted redshank, dunlin, snipe, ruff and black tailed godwit. Ducks: shoveler, shelduck, wigeon and teal. A couple of marsh harriers quartered over the reedbeds; I watched a little egret catching fish and a bird-watcher eating his sandwiches…

Twilight...

I enjoy doing twilight shots. There's a brief window of opportunity - only a few minutes - to get the shots. Licensed these two pix this week...

A fenland surprise...

Stayed in a fenland campsite last night, near Littleport. Reception took just a few seconds. No formalities; the guy just wanted to see the colour of my money. Having edited and uploaded a backlog of pix, I walked along the riverbank of the Great Ouse to a nearby pub and ordered a drink and a meal. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spied two familiar faces: Jean and John, who used to run the Hourglass Gallery in Hebden Bridge. They’re living in fenland now, and don’t look a day older than when I saw them last… maybe 15 years ago…

Great egret...

Had a couple of hours watching birds at Fen Drayon Lakes, one of a number of nature reserves in and around the Ouse fens. It was good to feel the sun on my back, though the birdlife wasn’t too exciting: grebes, wigeons, tufted ducks, etc. I saw a great egret standing close to a heron, and noticed how similar in size they were. In a couple of years these egrets may be as common as little egrets have become, and won’t even be mentioned in dispatches by those twitchers who are only interested in rarities.

Photogenic light this afternoon, so I’m shooting pix by the quayside in St Ives…

Heading north...

Visited sister Kari, to coincide with her last day of chemotherapy. Then Kevin, in a little rural idyll near Hitchin. Now heading north through heavy rain…