In harbour

Nothing makes me happier than an evening visit to a fishing harbour with my 100mm lens. I have hundreds of images to prove it.

It's maybe a bit of a niche interest, a detail shot of the beautiful rust on a fifty-year-old prawn trawler. But this weekend I've been trying to go a bit more mainstream with some colour-themed grids of my harbour close-ups. I'll put them in my Etsy shop and hope that someone else in the world shares my love.

Something to do with the sea

I blame the government for my lack of photographic and blogging action recently. This school year we have a new syllabus in place for two year groups, which makes for a much heavier workload than usual. I'm missing my weekends driving round the country - I seem to be spending far too much time sitting at my dining room table surrounded by A level notes instead.

But I did escape briefly from the Renaissance church anthem last weekend to drive one of my nieces along the County Down coast for an afternoon. It was a beautiful cold November day, ideal for a ten-minute walk every time we came to a harbour or a beach. Also ideal for eating at the Mourne Seafood Bar in Dundrum the instant the light went. We had salt and chilli squid, whitebait and mussels, all fantastic. 

It's funny how a short outing like that can completely revive your spirits. It's something to do with the sea, I think. I had to sit down with my notes the instant I got home, but it didn't seem quite such a chore as usual.

Boatographs

I'm in the window of the Tara Hotel in Killybegs, looking out over the harbour. I'm eating sea bass, which was probably swimming yesterday, and potatoes, which were probably growing then too.

That actually makes me feel a bit bad now on behalf of both the sea bass and the potatoes, though not bad enough to stop eating.

My dinner makes me pretty happy, but better still are the fishing boats in the harbour. It'll not be news to readers of this blog that I like a nice fishing boat. Rarely does a fortnight go by when I'm not wandering round a harbour at Portavogie, Ardglass or Kilkeel. 

Killybegs is new to me, and it's like my regular harbours on steroids. Most of these boats are enormous.

They're also very well kept, which is splendid for their owners and sailors but, in my opinion, a bit less exciting for photographers. Not so many beautiful weathered textures and rusty little details.

But they're so elegant, so bright and bold in the golden western evening. And there are fantastic reflections all around them. I get some nice shots.

Queen of the Skies

Gorgeous, dilapidated, hopeful, romantic, the Regina Caelis is moored at Cook Street slip, Portaferry. I watched her for a while at dusk yesterday, thrilled to see her three masts in full sail.

She's eighty years old. She was built in Denmark and worked in her prime in the Faroes deep sea fishing fleet. In her forties she became the property of an Austrian couple who taught at the Vienna Conservatoire and spent their holidays exploring the Scottish coasts with her.

 As I watched, several cars came to screeching halts at the sight of her unfurled sails, works of art in themselves.

More than one passerby, approaching with cameras, murmured about Pirates of the Caribbean, and yeah, word is that the owners were approached by the producers, wanting to use her in one of the films. But they wanted to blow her up. I'm glad she was spared that indignity.

Nets

In my last post, I wrote about my blue start-of-term moments at Kilkeel harbour. They happen, but being outside, by the sea, in one of the most beautiful countries in the world, means that sooner or later you're going to see something that will lift your spirits again.

The boats themselves help, and so did the takeaway van. But what cheered me up the most was the opportunity to photograph all the nets, cages, chains and other fishing paraphernalia stacked neatly round the harbour.

These have their own colour scheme - I don't know if the blues and oranges are universal, or local.... And, viewed through my big lens, they form their own abstract art pieces. Nothing is ordinary.

Harbour blues

I'm at Kilkeel harbour. This might be my favourite Northern Ireland harbour, for its busyness and its golden dusky light. Or maybe the best one is Portavogie, for its scruffy optimism.... But whichever it is, here in Kilkeel it's a beautiful Friday evening.

Half of me feels calm and happy, here with the light, the weathered trawlers and my camera, and the prospect of something tasty from the food van later. Half feels too much the end-of-summer sadness that's pervading everything I do for these few days.

I love the long days, the feeling that there are hours still to go.

My stomach clenches when I see someone shake their head and comment darkly on how the nights are drawing in.

All we have is the days we live, and if the days are short, I feel I'm living less.

The new school year begins, the wheel turns on to the next revolution.

The blues of the harbour seem more saturated than ever. I collect them to match my half-mood.