Travelling to work during the week, I saw the most magnificent sunrises with the sky overhead alight with red, gold, purple and blue as the horizon was punctured by a distant red sun and slowly gathered height. My mind drifted and I thought it would be great to capture this on time lapse, and so decided to attempt it at the weekend. On Saturday I failed miserably, and did not have any inclination to escape the warmth of the duvet at 6.30 a.m. On Saturday evening I checked the forecast for cloud cover on Sunday morning. It was not great. There was 75% upper level cloud cover forecasted and a westerly airflow which would suggest increasing cloudcover with no real prospect of a stunning sunrise to be captured.
Early on Sunday morning I heard the sea area forecast being methodically called out on the radio. It was quite clear the good spell of weather we have been experiencing in recent days was coming to an end. "West to Northwest winds will reach gale force today on coasts from Slyne Head to Fair Head to Wicklow Head and on the Irish Sea", it advised in a serious monotone. That was not all. It went on to bring the following grim news: "Occasional rain or hail showers becoming more widespread and turning to sleet or snow in places later today and tonight with the risk of thunder."
Undeterred, I ground some extra fine coffee, which I gulped down with a little warm milk, found a warmer jacket and woolly hat, before departing for the beach. In my bag was a simple garden time lapse camera, my standard camera, and my phone. I thought arriving early was a good plan to feel around for a good location in the moderate darkness, and biting cold wind. All set up, I pushed the button on the time lapse camera and listed for the bleeps to signify it had started. I pushed the button again and again in vain only to discover it had run out of battery. I hastily set up my iPhone on a post protruding from the sand dune. After a couple of fumbles, and an approximate aim at the horizon 15 degrees south of due east, I started the time lapse function at a frame to be taken every three seconds. In the diminished light, I could see that there was a bank of cloud on the horizon and ribbons of low cloud just above it. The Kish lighthouse beamed away, and aircraft landing Dublin airport also provided some interest in the sky. It was interesting to a degree but would it improve with the coming dawn. As time passed, I became jealous of the cloud formations to left and right which were out of frame. My time lapse would be trained upon a steely blue grey December sky. Clouds cork screwed and mixed with mare's tails all around apart from the area I had positioned the camera frame.
I settled in for the long run listening to Vivaldi and looking at the oystercatchers and crows running on the wet sand as the tide receded. By 8 a.m. the sky was slowly brightening but there was no promise of a dramatic dawn. The darkened clouds gathered over my shoulder pressed by a strong and cold westerly wind. The crows had begun to tease each other; one would provoke its flock into a chase when it found a tasty cockle. The chase seemed to be more fun that anything else, as the cockle was never eaten, but the chase kept them occupied for 15 minutes flying in the stiff wind before settling back down on the wet sand.
Gradually people walking dogs arrived at the beach, and horses were cantering and walking in the water. The birds seemed to sense the sun had crested the horizon, taking off in a noisy unsettled flight, but the cloud was too thick for me to witness it. Is it possible that the morning got darker? By 8.30 the light appeared to dim somewhat and the cold intensified; Vivaldi was quickly swapped for the Rolling Stones in an attempt to add some tempo and build a little heart rate to stay warm. My face was slowly freezing and became numb. As if matters were not grim enough, a large black dog came bounding towards me along the edge of the dune. I gave it an uninterested look, my face too cold to raise any other expression, and it departed as quickly as it arrived, barking.
By 9.30 I decided it was time to retreat from the December chilly air for another cup of bracing coffee, and to review the dawn in the comfort and safety of my home.I hope to have better look next time!
