David Noton On Location
Source du Lison, Massif du Jura, Franche-comté, France. 23 October 2014 “Should I stay or should I go?” ponders David Noton. “If I go there will be trouble, and if I stay it will be double. So you’ve got to let me know: should I stay or should I go?”
Our columnist ponders in France, fitting in trips even when there isn’t time
To go or not to go, this was the question: I didn’t really have time, less than a week in fact, not really long enough, when all was considered. It would take a couple of days to get there, another couple to get back, and, as I didn’t really know the area, the time-consuming business of familiarization and location-finding would eat into that still further. Okay, we’d visited for a few days way back in 1997, but all I can remember from that trip was a day spent shooting mushrooms in a wooded valley. My captions from that shoot were delightfully imprecise: the Val du Lison. No, if I did go for it, I’d have to start again from scratch.
Any way I looked at it, the idea didn’t seem to stack up. We’d only just got back from California and I had a mountain of editing, processing and writing to do, not to mention imminent deadlines, workshops, seminars and speaker events. And yet… maybe I should just grab the moment, load up the car and head off; such an opportunity might not come again. I’d always meant to return to that little-known yet beautiful region of eastern France, and I am supposed to be a landscape photographer after all; it’s what I’m meant to do, not just talk or write about it. Sometimes, all too often if I’m honest, I feel that I’m chained to the computer, a slave to the technology. And yet the best travel advice I’ve ever heard was ‘Don’t think about it too much, just go.’ Sod it; time to put that advice into practice.
Three days later I’m setting up on the riverbank at the Source du Lison. The last few days have passed in a whirlwind of location finding and tailgate lunches, but I’m so glad I dropped everything and came. Now, craning awkwardly to see through the eyepiece while fine tuning my composition, I take a slow-motion tumble: thankfully not into the river, but in amongst the slippery rocks. The lush green moss makes for a soft landing; nothing broken, bones or glass, but I feel like plonker. Thankfully no one saw. Oh yes they did, a group of French ramblers are chattering, laughing and pointing as they approach. They stop to chat as I try desperately to recover my dignity. With them looking on, I go to work on the overhanging trees that frame the cascade; it’s a scene of beauty for sure. I switch from a long lens to the 24mm TS-E and I'm engrossed again. Down here in the valley on a grey overcast day the light levels are low; I’ll need no ND filters to capture a touch of water motion, but this flat light is perfect for shooting in this deep limestone gorge. A polarizer saturates the yellowy-green colours of the foliage et voila; this shoot alone has made the long drive across the Channel worthwhile.
On the long and lonesome highway, west of Amiens, I pull up at another tollbooth. Here I go again: stop, seat belt off, jump out, run around the front, stick the ticket in the machine followed by debit card, then the barrier goes up as I scuttle back around to the driver’s side while the trucker in the queue behind watches with bemused amusement, climb back in, close the door, engage gear and pull away as
I do up my buckle again. After much practice on this solo trip I’m getting quicker at these Autoroute tolls
– I reckon about eight seconds on that last one. One more hour to Calais; after some wine shopping I’ll be home by tomorrow morning. So, it all came down to just three complete days on location in Franche-comté. Was it worth it? Definitely. The freedom to just drop everything and go should be savoured. I must do it more often.
Next month Argentina