Anyone who’s ever been gifted a day of freedom to do with as you will, knows the paralysing doubt that accompanies the moment you try to determine what to do with that freedom.
I’m fond of exploring new places, or at the very least re-visiting places I find interesting. It was therefore surprising to me that when I had a day of freedom during May half-term, I actually knew what I wanted to do for a change – I wanted to visit the seaside (again).
I’m going through a phase of creating vibrant, high saturation, Martin Parr-esque photos, and I find the beach is usually great for this.
The drive down to Lyme Regis, (I’d decided that this would be my destination the night before), would take 1 hour and 45 minutes. So, I left relatively early, and despite two near-misses with people who were determined to test my emergency braking, arrived in Lyme Regis just before 10:00.
It was fairly quiet as I walked down the hill to the shore; it seemed I’d found one of the few car parks with plenty of spaces and no exorbitant charges. One of the first things that I noticed after exploring for a while (and re-hydrating in a pub with a soft drink), was that it’s a very colourful little place. The houses, the huts, the cafes – everything seems to be decorated in such a way as to stand out from the thing next to it. As it happens, everything therefore sort of blends together in a melody of colour.
I’d packed my Nikon Z5 II and attached the 24-70 2.8. It’s overkill for what I do but it’s nice to have something exceptional at what it does. The lens turned out to be most useful, as one minute I’d photograph an expansive landscape and the next I’d shoot a candid portrait at 70mm.
What I really enjoy photographing by the beach is the people though; Martin Parr’s Last Resort fresh in my mind, I snapped away discreetly at anything I thought summed up the British seaside holiday in 2026.
Lunch was a crayfish baguette courtesy of the Lyme Bay Sandwich Co. It was most tasty, although they were sold out of crab unfortunately.
My walk along the rock pools, up into the lanes, along the gardens and down to the Cobb had provided many opportunities for a range of candid shots and colourful architectural shots for context. But I’d rationed my parking to 13:00, so I knew I had to return from whence I came. I walked back along the most direct route, skirting the beach. It was possibly the busiest and most unpleasant part of the day, though it offered the richest pickings for reportage of people enjoying the seaside.
I followed a screaming little girl up the steep hill back to the car park; she was tired, as one would expect, and I empathised with her – supposedly the temperature was 35 degrees, and her little feet had given up on her. I resisted the urge to offer her a ride; my own daughter would have jumped at the opportunity, but I recognised that it wouldn’t necessarily be received in the spirit it was intended.
Back at the car I sat with the engine on for fifteen minutes, cooling in the air conditioned sanctuary whilst I caught up on my messages.
Would I go again? Certainly! I need to try that crab baguette after all…
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