In March 2016, while following a faint and unfamiliar path through a quiet local woodland, I caught a glimpse of a fallen birch tree in a shallow, open valley. Stepping closer with anticipation, the most fantastic woodland scene was revealed and I instantly knew I had found something special.
The characterful birch led the eye down the valley towards a fabulous old and bold pine tree, standing proudly at the centre of the stage. The surrounding trees created a natural vignette and the woodland floor was rich with bilberry. Beyond those physical elements, there was a perfect balance of mood, atmosphere and the peace and solitude I craved.
Everything felt right, but I was oblivious to how important this place would become.
The beginning of Valley Stories
In late April of the same year, I was pleasantly surprised to arrive during a flurry of snow. A northerly wind carried it across the open moorland and down through the valley, where I stood hunched protectively over my camera.
Other than my initial scouting photograph, this was my first attempt at making an image of the scene. It would take many more visits and several months to refine the composition in my attempt to capture the essence of the location. The local woodlands I frequent have a profoundly positive effect on my wellbeing, so I always strive to photograph them in a way that communicates something of their importance and my experience of being there.
Exploring a woodland and uncovering its potential can take a long time—perhaps months to find its most promising scenes and even years for a particular vision to come to fruition.
Delving a little deeper, I discovered what would become my favourite family of trees. This unlikely gathering had the most superb choreography, with beautiful curves and a wonderful interaction at its centre. The grouping would later become known as The Dysfunctional Family, after I photographed it during my first YouTube film.
This earlier version became an interesting marker of work in progress.
A place to return to
Choosing to spend time here wasn’t purely an investment in my photography; it was an investment in myself.
Many of the woodlands I treasure are challenging places to photograph, but they contain the ingredients that are essential to contentment in my work. Nothing excites me more than the feeling of discovery and the sense of solitude. Being alone brings me closer to nature and to the privileges that come with paying it proper attention. Whether the photography comes easily is often inconsequential.
Our priorities fluctuate as our responsibilities change and our practice as photographers adapts to accommodate them. I chose these woodlands because they prioritised wellbeing over photography, but experience taught me that the two go hand in hand. The connection created through repeatedly returning to them was central to my development as a photographer, and its effect cannot be underestimated.
My circumstances are very different now, and balancing the demands of being a professional photographer with those fundamental needs can sometimes be difficult. It remains crucial that I never let them go.
The beginning of something new
In October 2016, I spent a day photographing with a new friend, Tom Heaton, and we discussed the idea of starting my own YouTube channel. It was a daunting prospect after having so much confidence knocked out of me, but I was determined to take on a new challenge and move beyond what had begun to feel like stagnation.
I felt that I had found my voice in woodland photography, but I also wanted to share the benefits of working locally and the joy of being a dog owner. My Labradoodle, Meg, was already fundamental to both my photography and my wellbeing, so it was natural that she should appear in the films from the outset.
There was no question about where I wanted to record the first one. That shallow valley in a quiet local woodland became the stage for another event that would change my life.
I could never have anticipated the immediate response. I was blown away by the positivity and thrilled that people enjoyed joining Meg and me for a local woodland wander. The film will always remain a personal favourite.
The experience strengthened my connection with the location and everything it had already given me: moments of calm, excitement and joy; wonderful encounters with nature; and photographs that I continue to treasure.
The photograph I had been waiting for
Like many creative people, I have always had a streak of perfectionism. It is especially apparent in my desire to find what I consider the ultimate version of a scene I care deeply about.
That idea of an ultimate version is relative, of course, and I’m not sure it is ever genuinely attainable. A perfectionist will invariably find fault even in their most accomplished work. Nevertheless, in September 2017 I came as close as I ever would to making the photograph I had imagined here.
It was 18 months since I had discovered the woodland, but the first time I had seen it in such beautiful misty conditions. It would have been an ideal morning to make another film, but I decided to enjoy the rare conditions and concentrate entirely on the photography.
I began at the woodland fringes, where pines and birch caught the first of the soft morning light as it glowed through the mist. A small silver birch was already showing signs of autumn and offered a lovely contrast of form and mood against the sharper edges of a leaning pine.
I continued exploring the woodland edge, where soft light fell on an old, fading rowan. Nearby, small clumps of heather hinted at the moorland surrounding the trees and the wider Yorkshire landscape. The shaded woodland beyond provided a backdrop of beautifully contrasting tone.
The old rowan conveniently led down through the shallow valley towards the fallen birch and the scene I had always regarded as the heart of the woodland.
The timing was perfect. Mist had gathered within the opening and the sun was high enough to softly illuminate the wonderful bark detail and algae-covered branches. The damp bilberry of the understorey was filled with cobwebs, revealing another element I hadn’t previously considered.
Having already worked with the scene many times meant that no time was wasted. I knew exactly which composition I wanted and could simply revel in the experience of making the photograph.
I had always adored this place, so I was delighted when others recognised its beauty and the resulting photograph went on to win its category in Outdoor Photographer of the Year.
This is what so many outdoor photographers savour: a rewarding moment that may be opportunistic and fleeting or, as it was here, the culmination of repeated visits and a long effort to refine one’s interpretation of a favourite place.
I like to think that this photograph communicates the very best of the valley.
A woodland over time
I continued to return in the years that followed, making new photographs and sharing some of those experiences through films on YouTube. The resulting collection became a record of the woodland, the surrounding moorland and my changing relationship with both.
The end of Valley Stories
In June 2020, I returned after the area had been selectively felled. The woodland remained, but the small part of it I had come to know so intimately had been changed beyond recognition.
The fallen birch at the heart of Valley Stories III had been run over by forestry machinery and the old pine beyond it had been damaged. The trees that formed The Dysfunctional Family were no longer standing.
I don’t know all the circumstances behind the work, and there is little value in speculating. I can only describe what I found and the sense of loss that followed.
Woodlands change, and working woodlands are managed for reasons that are not always apparent to those who visit them. Understanding that did not make it any less difficult to see a place with so much personal meaning altered so dramatically.
Looking back, my overwhelming feeling is one of gratitude.
I never imagined that seeking out therapeutic woodlands and using creativity as a form of escapism would lead to a career in photography and the opportunity to share that journey through YouTube. This woodland was central to that development, but I won’t allow the sadness of its loss to overshadow everything positive it gave me.
It would be easy to measure the woodland by the photographs, films and professional opportunities it provided, but that would miss the point. Its greatest gifts were quiet, recovery, curiosity and connection.
Returning repeatedly encouraged me to understand the place more deeply. That understanding created empathy, and empathy inevitably changes how we see the natural world and how we represent it through our photographs.
The images and films are now a record of a place that can no longer be experienced in quite the same way. I hope they also serve as a reminder that the places to which we repeatedly return become part of our own stories.
After all, I must do my best for the places that have done so much for me.
A video tribute
The following film brings together the photographs, memories and some of my favourite drone footage from the woodland. I have always tried to use film to provide context and bring the landscape surrounding my still photographs to life.
Films from the woodland
My first YouTube film appears earlier in this article. These later episodes record more of the time I spent in and around the woodland:
