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I was back at RSPB Bempton Cliffs the other day running another full beginner photography workshop, and it turned out to be one of those days that just reminds me why I love doing these.
There’s something about Bempton that always delivers. It’s not just the location — although the cliffs, the seabirds and the views out over the North Sea are hard to beat — it’s the whole experience of being there. You’ve got wildlife right in front of you, space to move around, and that constant feeling that something’s about to happen.
There’s something really rewarding about teaching a beginner photography workshop and seeing that moment when everything finally clicks for someone. Recently I had the pleasure of running one of my Beginner Photography Workshops at Sewerby Hall in Bridlington, and it turned out to be a fantastic day for everyone involved.
There are places along the North Yorkshire coast that seem to slow everything down the moment you arrive, and Staithes is one of them.
I took this photograph today while wandering through Staithes harbour, camera in hand, with the sky heavy above and the tide pulled far back. The boats sat quietly on the sand, weathered and resting, as if waiting patiently for the sea to return. There was no rush, no noise — just the sound of distant water and the creak of ropes in the breeze.
If you’ve never visited Fryup Dale in the North York Moors National Park, you’re missing one of the most atmospheric and underrated landscape locations in Yorkshire. Tucked away in the rolling moorland between Glaisdale, Danby and the surrounding Esk Valley, Fryup Dale offers a perfect mix of winding roads, dramatic skies, open valleys and that unmistakable wild Yorkshire feeling.
It’s one of my favourite places to photograph, especially when the weather turns moody and the clouds roll in. This landscape photo was taken looking across the dale as the road snakes through the hillside — a scene that always feels like it’s pulling you forward into the horizon.
There is nowhere quite like South Gare. Nestled at the mouth of the River Tees, it’s a place where the towering silhouettes of industry meet the wild, unpredictable North Sea. For a photographer, it is a playground of textures—rust, concrete, marram grass, and shifting sands.
I recently headed out to the Gare to capture the low winter light, and I wanted to share the story behind this particular shot of the footprints leading toward the sun.
For many people, photography begins as a simple hobby. A new camera, a walk outdoors, a curiosity about light and landscapes. But over time, it often becomes something deeper — a reason to slow down, step outside, and reconnect with both nature and other people.
That’s something I see time and time again on my photography workshops.
While people often arrive wanting to understand their camera or improve their photos, what they frequently leave talking about isn’t just photography. It’s how calm they feel. How good it was to spend a day outside. How much they enjoyed learning alongside others without pressure or expectation.
Photography, when taught in the right environment, can quietly support wellbeing in powerful ways.

