A Trip Back In Time
In July 2024, my dad, Martin, passed away. Although he was not a young man, his passing took me by surprise. In the aftermath, I found myself putting my feelings on hold, focused instead on the overwhelming administrative tasks that follow someone's death. I was aware of my grief, yet I struggled to find a healthy way to process it.
A few weeks later, I had the idea to revisit a part of the country where I had spent every summer with my dad during my childhood: Kent. Being from that area, he always enjoyed returning there. In particular, I wanted to visit St. Margaret's Bay, a place he consistently took me to, without exception.
Despite my desire to travel, life remained busy, and I postponed my plans until I could make the trip at my own pace, free from a time constraint. Fast forward to the October half-term, when I told my wife about my intention to do a round trip in a single day. She suggested that I stay overnight to avoid the six-hour drive while also trying to fit in some sightseeing. We agreed, and off I went.
My dad is now in our garden; his ashes rest in a large container with a tree planted in it. As a keen gardener, I liked the thought of him continuing to be part of something he loved. However, my son wanted to create a memento for 'Grandad Pollard,' so I proposed decorating some stones/pebbles. I decided to collect some large stones from the beach at St. Margaret's Bay for my children to personalize and place alongside their grandad. If my dad could not return to that beach, then the beach could come to him.
Naturally, I planned to take my camera to document the places that held significance for both my dad and me. I also intended to create prints from these photographs. The project, "A Trip Back in Time," serves as a photographic record of that journey.
Click each image to view it in its entirety.
St Margret's Bay - Long-exposure taken with ND1000 filter.
St Margret's Bay - Long-exposure taken with ND1000 filter.
This is the beach where my father would take me every summer.
The beach itself is not big, I suspect my father enjoyed watching the ferries - a reminder of his time spent as a continental lorry driver.
Dover Harbour is around this headland. These photos were taken on the Voigtlander APO f/2 50mm
The bandstand at Walmer seafront. I arrived late in the evening on the first day; although tempted to go to bed early in the hotel room, I forced myself to venture out and experiment with some night-time photography.
Deal Pier by night. 30-second long exposure.
The next morning I opened the curtains and looked out onto my dad's car - he gave it to us a few months before he passed away.
I returned to the seafront the next morning, and walked along the extent of the Walmer/Deal seafront. The sea was incredibly calm. I used the Voigtlander 50mm f/2 APO for the whole morning.
My mum told me that I used to like the lifeboat station; I thought I didn't remember it, but recalled this building the moment I saw it.
My mum told me that I used to like the lifeboat station; I thought I didn't remember it, but recalled this building the moment I saw it.
This was just good timing.
Along the front, the old boats seem to be slowly falling to pieces. I don't know if they're forgotten about, or just repaired at the end of every winter.
I photographed this boat at night, but the daylight exposure is superior. I intended to use black and white for this project.
I recall my dad taught me that France is only 22 miles in that direction.
For someone who spends most of his time away from the sea, these old boats were worth capturing on camera.
For someone who spends most of his time away from the sea, these old boats were worth capturing on camera.
This is one of my favourite images. It has many layers, and I enjoy looking for details I missed on previous viewings.
I did not remember this cinema, but it seemed long-since closed and relegated to being a developer's next project.
Is the camera in a crime-hotspot? Is it watching the bird, or is the bird watching it...?
The pier was somewhere I always went with my dad; we would go to the greasy spoon cafe at the end and have a fry-up together. The cafe is still there, but it is now an up-market restaurant. He would not approve.
The pier itself is an impressive structure - narrower than Boscombe (which I am more familiar with), but it seems well-used by fishermen.
The pier itself is an impressive structure - narrower than Boscombe (which I am more familiar with), but it seems well-used by fishermen.
The sky was surreal - it felt like a storm might be rolling in off the channel.
I recall sitting in one of these shelters with my dad when we got caught in a downpour. I cannot remember what it looked like, but I can recall the smell of my dad's coat like it was yesterday.
Saddened that our greasy spoon was a distant memory, I managed to find somewhere within viewing distance of the pier to have a bacon roll. I imagined this older gentlemen had transitioned from the pier cafe to this one like myself.
Deal now seems to be becoming gentrified; popular with cyclists, I passed several groups out on rides.
Despite the gentrification however, some traditions remain.
The only colour I thought the project needed. In black and white, this composition isn't as effective.
St Margret's Bay - Panoramic composite; long-exposure taken using an ND1000 filter. I returned home, stopping briefly at the White Cliffs of Dover to take in the view, before making the long journey back.