Making for the Lakes and a break in the journey before reaching Scotland. The miles rolled by. Decompressing as I went. The landscaped bathed in winter light. The monsoon that I had been tracking in the weeks before had disappeared. Forecasted rain failed to show. Pushing along the motorway and my southern eyes started to pop at the lower levels of Lakeland. The hard shoulder appears as a beguiling place to photograph. The light seductive and always saying “over here, over here.” To my growing chagrin, I do not know the Lakes well. It seems sprawling, complicated. Photographed to the millimetre. My mind has always wanted to go further north.
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