One of the reasons I love photography is that it urges me to examine and experience a place more deeply than when I’m just wandering through. Heading out to photograph a particular place involves deepening my relationship with it: looking more closely, understanding how it is changed by light and weather and seasons, searching out corners that I’ve not explored, spending time studying details, or trying to understand how it came to be the way it is.
One of those places I find myself returning to is the coastline around the offshore outcrop of Grosse Tête, between Beauport and the rocky cove of Fiquet on Jersey’s magnificent south west coast. This time my visit was timed to coincide with the rising of the full moon and the high tide, on a day when a heavy swell was running. As soon as I arrived at the headland looking out at Grosse Tête, I knew I’d chosen the moment well. Off to the West the sky was orange, but it was the action directly below that caught my attention.
Walking back to the car park above Beauport it was in theory dark, but the moonlight was strong and I had no difficulty following the path. Beauport itself was lit by a low, slanting light from the full moon, casting long shadows.