French coast

Crozon Peninsula, Finistère, Bretagne, France. 20:35 local time. 17 September 2017

Tucked away on the extreme west coast of France in a part of Cornwall, David Noton decides to shun the sunset in favour of a pile of glowing peas. And yes, he is sober

Okay, it’s not quite the end of the earth, but it certainly feels like it. Out to the west is nothing but open sea, all the way to Newfoundland. Yes, we know this rugged headland, the Pointe de Pen-hir, is not France’s most westerly point, and that the odd rocky island such as Sein and Ouessant are out there, but that’s just nit-picking; for us, on this glorious evening, this is Finistère. The sheer cliffs we’re stood atop, tripod carefully positioned, drop 70 metres down to the Atlantic. The headland arcs around to the south before petering out as a series of rocky outcrops, les Tas de Pois (the pile of peas – sounds better en français, doesn’t it?). Geographically it feels familiar: we could be in Cornwall. In fact, we are.

This is Cornouaille, a region of Brittany settled by migrants from Cornwall in the second half of the first century AD. But the links that bond southwest England and Brittany date from well before that, in fact from even before the Romans came and went, and those links remain tangible today. We came on one yesterday – the ferry to Saint-malo. Now we’re camped just a mile away and looking forward to the next two weeks of photographic exploration.

We just love these kind of roving trips, and what a way to start, here on this epic headland. It’s a popular spot; gaggles of tourists are on the cliffs nearby, but they’re all looking out west towards the fire of the setting sun over the open sea.

But as is evident this evening to any with a more perceptive eye, the real beauty is away to the south where the last weak but achingly subtle light is causing the cliffs of Finistère to literally glow. The soft side-lighting is still revealing all the form and texture in the seascape, while at the same time illuminating the bottom of the clouds in the sky above with shades of pink. We’ve been here an hour or so, working the location as the light just got better and better; now is The Decisive Moment.

I double-check everything: exposure, focus, depth of field, the position of my grad, the angle of the polarizer, and camera stability. Thankfully, despite our exposed vantage point wind buffeting isn’t a problem on this tranquil evening. That’s a rarity here; the postcards adorning the displays in local Camaretsur-mer, the ones no one sends any more – of huge waves engulfing the lighthouses of this côte sauvage – attest to that.

The display on the back of my 5DS R is enough to make my heart sing – getting underway with a strong shoot on day one is always uplifting. What’s more, that display is showing me the image pretty much as it will be after processing. A 6x neutral density is in operation this evening to give me a little motion blur on the calm sea. Normally such a dense filter would show a strong blue colour cast, but not this new Proglass from Lee; it’s pleasingly neutral.

I pause, sweeping my eye from corner to corner of the frame. It’s a simple, uncluttered composition, with the furthest of Les Tas des Pois just intersecting the horizon. It’s little details like that which can really make or break a picture. Meanwhile the few others on the headland nearby are still pointing their phones out to sea.

I shoot vertical and horizontal options quickly, then it’s all over. We pack up, pausing to read the inscription on the massive stone cross behind us. It’s a memorial to the many Free French Bretons who joined de Gaulle in exile in Britain during the Second World War. Yet another link.

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