Dodd Woods, Lake District, Spring
After an unusually dry and cold April 2021, the rain has returned.
After an unusually dry and cold April 2021, the rain has returned.
This Bank Holiday Lisabet and I planned on a long hike through the Mallerstang valley in the Yorkshire Dales, a favourite of ours. However, reading all the weather radars and forecasts indicated a lot of rain was on its way through South Lakes and the Yorkshire Dales. By contrast, the northern Lake District looked pretty good. So we changed plans and embarked on a hike up Dodd (502 m/1,647 ft), a small fell that came highly recommended by a friend of mine.
Dodd is part of the Skiddaw range, a massive bulk of fells to the north of Keswick, which tops out at Skiddaw itself at 931 m/3,054 ft asl. Most of the fell is covered in trees as it’s owned by the Forestry Commission but the summit is bald, allowing for extensive views towards either Derwentwater and the Newland Fells or Bassenthwaite Lake and out towards the Solway Firth.
Despite changeable conditions, the car park was extremely busy and we were lucky to get parked where we did. Thankfully there is plenty of signage around Dodd Woods and we simply followed Dodd Summit Trail, snapping happily along the way. There is a lot to be said for roaming around dense woods and the quality of light you get, not to mention the incredulous views you get from around the summit of Dodd.
All photos taken on my Fujifilm X-T2 using two of my prime lenses: a Samyang 35mm f/1.2 and an adapted Pentax SMC 55mm f/2.0. Developed using RNI’s Kodachrome film profiles.
The clarity of light was superb.
Lots of families wandering around Dodd Woods, enjoying the scenery and crisp sun.
I had to line up a composition involving this unusual tree, which had formed a sort of natural arch over the footpath.
Skill Beck, like a lot of rivers in the Lake District at the moment, was very dry and barely a trickle, as it tumbled through the woods.
I love the soft transitions of light and shadow you get in the woods.
We continue upwards, following the Dodd Summit Trail.
About three quarters of the way through the hike, the tree cover starts to open up, letting in more light. I quickly snapped this photo of my lovely Lisabet as she entered a zone of open light.
Underneath Dodd summit I spotted this wonderful crag marked with flecks of vivid orange and red. I wonder if there’s iron ore in the rock around here?
Our first glimpse of the views that Dodd offers. And we weren’t even at the top yet! Absolutely immaculate. Showing Derwentwater and its fells, with the bonny town of Keswick to left.
The Newland Valley and its fells, with the Dodd Summit exit trail below.
Again with that soft woodland light…
I have to remind myself, when I’ve got my head down hiking up a fell, to always look back. Had I not done so, I would’ve missed this! The view all the way back towards the Helvellyn range, and you can even clearly see the Helvellyn (950 m/3,118 ft) summit itself, catching some highlighting!
Bassenthwaite Lake framed by two trees; famously cited as the only “lake” in the Lake District (that is, the only lake with the word “lake” in its name). The atmosphere was so clear you could also make out the Solway Firth and the Galloway mountains in Scotland.
And we reach the summit. Some of the best views of the Northern Lake District I’ve ever seen.
The Lorton Fells and Grisedale Pike. Little hovering spots of light scan across the land.
My lovely Lisabet at the summit, getting those views.
I popped on my 55mm lens to zoom in further and pick out specific scenes from the vast panorama available from the summit of Dodd. The Newland valley and fells, in particular, were looking absolutely splendid.
Lord’s Seat (552 m/1,811 ft) from across Bassenthwaite Lake.
Honestly, I could’ve taken thousands of shots from the summit of Dodd…
Grisedale Pike (791 m/2,595 ft) catching some lovely light above the Whinlatter Forest.
Following the narrow trail back down the slopes of Dodd
As we climb down the wooded fell slopes, the landscape changed from craggy to mossy and grassy.
Lovely light catching the trees and footpath.
Heading our way back down to the car, soft afternoon light blooming through the woods. I liked the tree on the right, looks like a tuning fork.
Whinlatter Forest & The West Coast, Cumbria: Winter
When you’re in West Cumbria there’s more than the Western Lake District to explore.
Golden sunset light. River channels cut through the beach and drain into the sea. St. Bees Head remains steadfast.
When you’re in West Cumbria there’s more than the Western Lake District to explore.
There’s plenty of extremely quiet coastal hikes to explore in West Cumbria, too. On one such day, me and Lisabet got up one misty morning to enjoy some “forest bathing” in Whinlatter Forest, quoted as being “England's only true mountain forest”.
Afterwards we carried on up and over Whinlatter Pass (300 m/984 ft), then down towards the historical port of Whitehaven, enjoying the sea breeze and scenes.
Finally, we ventured a smidgen further south to St. Bees with its long stretches of sandy beaches and hulking cliffs of St. Bees Head whilst the sun was setting.
I really hope you enjoy these shots and are able to experience some semblance of joy from seeing them that I experienced taking them.
Soft misty light filters through the forest, creating gentle pockets of highlights amongst the forest floor and moss in Whinlatter Forest.
There’s some delightful about soft forest light, the ambiance of which I was trying to capture and convey here.
Looking south from the West Pier of Whitehaven towards St. Bees Head in the distance. Not a lot going on in this photo, and it was the simple arrangement of all the elements that inspired me to shoot it.
West Pier Lighthouse at Whitehaven. The curved walls of the pier’s breakwaters intrigued me enough to feature them in a wider composition. I think it’s alright.
Gorgeous sunset light at St. Bees. I wanted to shoot this large rock pool as a leading line towards the South Head of St. Bees Head, capturing all that beautiful rippling sand detail.
My lovely Lisabet, who loves the sea and all the micro-life it washes in and out.
The shingle bank that slopes gently down to the soft sandy beach of St. Bees.
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