The lengths we go to for a photograph

I was trying to think of a location that would provide a nice image for an entry into the UK's Landscape Photographer of the Year competition. I thought of the lighthouse at Whiteford Sands on the Gower, a place I have wanted to photograph for a few years, but under very specific conditions. I had seen many images of it during the day but none at night. I visualised how it would look lit from the sides and with the lights of Burry Port across the estuary as a backdrop. LPotY is fiercely contested and if you enter you need to make it a good shot, I thought the lighthouse would make for a nice image so decided to try and get the shot.

With a matter of days to go before the deadline for entries I checked the forecast and tide times and found that the coming Friday night showed low tide to be at 12:30am, it also showed scattered clouds which I thought could look good turning into streaks during a long exposure. As it turned out it was entirely cloudless, so lots of stars.

Everything looked right so it was a go! 3hr15m drive to the closest car park to Whiteford Sands, then a lonely 5km walk along its isolated beach in the dark. When you reach the point at the northern end of the beach, the lighthouse is a further 400m off shore and can only be accessed across the slippery rocks and seaweed at low tide, the other thing I was unsure about was how long I would have once the tide turned and started coming back in. I shot from 11pm to 1:30am at which point the rock pools around me seemed to be rising, I left at that point for the long journey home.

Upon processing my images and getting my entries submitted, I thought I would take a look at last years winners, not sure why I wouldn't have done that already, but to my horror I discovered the winning image in the Landscapes at Night category was a nocturnally photographed lighthouse! Not the same lighthouse but my thought was it would be unlikely a similar image could do well two years in a row.

Considering I made the journey mainly to create an image for this competition entry, and the monumental effort that went into creating the images, it felt as though I had just wasted a chunk of time and money.

Then a few more days passed and the realisation came to me that the journey had actually been an really mad adventure. These are the kinds of experiences that you will remember in your old age, the epic things that required you to go above and beyond in pursuit of a goal. I am now glad again that I made the effort. (in the end the shot made it through 1st round of judging but, as I expected, was not shortlisted)

Journey to the Mysterious Megaliths of Sulawesi, Indonesia

After 26 years, I returned to one of Indonesia's most captivating islands - Sulawesi. This sprawling, octopus-shaped landmass has called me back five times now, and it's easy to understand why. While most tourists flock to Bali's beaches, Sulawesi offers something different: pristine coral reefs teeming with marine life in crystal-clear waters, vast untouched rainforests, and most intriguingly, ancient stone heads hidden in its remote interior.

Tentena in central Sulawesi. Shot from the viewpoint tower at dusk.

My journey began in Tentena, a quiet lakeside town in central Sulawesi. Having missed these mysterious megaliths on my previous visit, I was determined to see them this time. I arranged a trip with a local driver named Jefri for 1,000,000 Rupiah (about £50) - a small price to pay for what would become an unforgettable adventure into one of Indonesia's most enigmatic landscapes.

Leaving Tentena and heading up into the hills for the 60km of jungle roads.

As dawn broke, we left the paved roads behind and ventured into Sulawesi's wild heart. Our three-hour journey took us along muddy jungle tracks where the forest pressed in from both sides, creating a tunnel of green. Each time we stopped, the wilderness came alive around us - the air filled with an orchestra of insects, exotic birds calling out their morning songs, and the distant whooping of monkeys echoing through the canopy. These moments of stillness in the jungle made it easy to imagine we'd travelled back in time to when the mysterious stone carvers still inhabited these lands.

Typical view from the road en-route into the valley.

These dead trees mark a point around 3/4 of the way there, the Bada Valley is just visible over the distant ridge.

Our destination was the Bada Valley - a hidden paradise measuring roughly 11km by 6km, surrounded by the jungle-covered hills of the Lore Lindu National Park. This fertile basin, with its patchwork of rice fields and small villages, contains fourteen currently known megaliths, all aged between 1,000 to 5,000 years.

Typical dirt track in the Bada Valley.

Covered bridge at the entrance of ‘Bomba’ village.

The megaliths revealed themselves one by one throughout the day, each more fascinating than the last. In the village of Bomba, we encountered our first stone sentinel - a head bearing an uncanny resemblance to Easter Island's famous Moai statues. Standing before it, I couldn't help but wonder about the mysterious connections between ancient civilizations separated by the world's largest ocean yet creating such similar artistic expressions.

Lanke Bulawa megalith in the village of Bomba.

A short drive brought us next to the ‘Loga’ megalith. Another humanoid representation that sits on a small hill and overlooks the rolling plains at the centre of the valley. Again the similarities between it and other stone effigies created by other cultures around the world was striking.

Logo megalith overlooking the central section of the valley

Loga megalith, shot side on with a view across to the southern hills of the Lore Lindu national park.

Loga megalith, shot from behind.

Local agricultural workers near to the Loga megalith, taking their lunch.

Once the second site of the day had been photographed, it was time for lunch and so my driver took me to a local homestay, ‘Ningsih’, where we eat a delicious meal of fresh fish and spicy beef with rice and beans. After lunch, a short walk to the north brought us to the valley’s largest river and the suspension bridge that crosses it.

My driver, Jefri at our lunch stop.

Locals walking over the suspension bridge that crosses the valleys only major river.

The journey between sites was an adventure in itself. To reach the Baula megalith, we carefully balanced on narrow earthen paths between flooded rice paddies, more than once misjudging our steps and plunging into the warm, muddy water. The effort was worth it - this water buffalo-shaped stone seemed to watch us with ancient eyes as we circled it, while the 360-degree view of jungle-covered hills made it feel as though we were a million miles from anywhere.

The Baula Megalith, representative of a water buffalo submerged in water.

Local children in one of the larger villages.

Some megaliths required local guides to find, leading us through family orchards and down into hidden valleys. One particularly memorable stone figure lay reclining in a sandpit by a stream, with our enthusiastic guide insisting on being in every photograph - inadvertently providing a perfect sense of scale to these massive ancient works.

One of the valleys reclining megaliths.

By this point the sun was getting low in the sky and we decided to race to the penultimate megalith, which was clearly one of the younger ones. The rock was in much better condition with little in the way of weathering. Another humanoid figure but clearly wearing some kind of hat or helmet. Possibly a representation of a warrior?

As the sun began its descent, we raced to reach the valley's crowning glory - the Palindo, the largest and most impressive megalith in the region. We arrived to find locals gathering for sunset photos, some dressed in traditional costume, creating a scene that could have been from any era in the past several centuries.

But I had a different vision in mind. Having researched extensively before my trip, I planned to capture these ancient guardians in a new light - literally. As darkness fell over the valley, I set up portable lighting equipment and began creating what I believed would be the first night photographs of these mysterious sentinels.

Traditional dress at the valley’s largest megalith, ‘The Palindo’

Working in the darkness, with only the stars and our lights for company, felt like a privilege - a private audience with these ancient watchers who have guarded the Bada Valley for millennia. Their origins and purpose remain largely unknown, adding to their mystique and drawing people like me back time and again to puzzle over their secrets.

Despite having visited Sulawesi five times, this hidden valley of ancient stone faces continues to captivate my imagination. Some of the worlds most incredible places remain relatively unknown, waiting for those willing to venture off the beaten path to discover them.

The final image of the ‘Palindo’ illuminated after dark using portable lights.

The Sunken Folly

There are a few locations in the UK that hold a certain status, something akin to hallowed ground. This location is one such place, partly because it is unique to the British Isles and partly because of the lengths you had to go to, to see it. Somewhere in the South of the UK is an estate that dates back to Victorian times, it features several large lakes situated at different levels with cascades that feed down into the next lake. These lakes were dug out over several years by over a hundred workers, before being flooded with water. Before the lower and largest lake was flooded, the owner and creator of the estate had a cast iron and concrete structure built on the lake bed, with a glazed dome and two access tunnels. One tunnel led to a spiral staircase on the lake edge and at the other end a staircase climbs to emerge onto a man made concrete and stone island in the middle of the lake. The dome is affectionately known as The Underwater Ballroom, but was actually never used for dancing. Instead acquaintances and business associates of the owner were taken down into this subterranean wonderland to play billiards beneath the coy carp swimming lazily above their heads.

Side on Pump.jpg

I made two trips here, one at the end of summer in 2013 and then again around the same time in 2014. The first occasion I did not get to see it but got some lovely shots of the mist covered lake at dawn. The second time I was in luck and got to scratch an itch that had been bothering me for two years.

As pictures from various peoples trips started appearing online, the word went out that the location was accessible and the numbers of covert visitors went through the roof. This location lies on land that is privately owned with the owner now having moved into a house that overlooks the main lake. Some mornings saw high numbers of unwanted visitors trying get into the folly and certainly not trying to be careful or quiet about it. The owner was less than happy with this and reached out to several people within the community to ask people to stop coming. The folly, for many photographers, has a magnetic pull due to the unqiue nature of its environment and certainly for some there's an element of it being a challenge to be conquered. Shortly after my trip, person(s) unknown, forced an intricately carved iron door to a stunning stone pavillion causing criminal damage in the process. For me this is where what could be a quiet unobtrusive visit where people would not have even known you were there, becomes an unacceptable assault on someones personal property and a stunning bit of architectural heritage. There's just no need for it. The location has now been secured again.

It seems hypocritical that having been there twice, I would now be of the opinion that people should leave the place be.  With time to reflect and the fact that some go to these amazing places with an intent to see what they have gone to see, no matter what the cost to the location. With plenty of images circulating now of this place, maybe we should just enjoy them, that's what photography is for anyway.