That’s the name of the road which wends its way out of lake-level Ambleside in the Lake District en route to higher and stonier ground. It gets inhospitable pretty quickly and one can well understand why it’s named as it is - before motorized transport it would presumably have taken its toll on many a wayfarer.
Now it is the province of hardy sheep and wayward travellers. Sue, James and I had driven it the previous day on our way to Ullswater and I’d made a mental note to return early in the morning. It was one of those mornings where the weather was all over the place, so a lot of the time it was dull and cloudy, but at times like that pictured the sun would break on through and the drama levels would rise very quickly.
I like this sort of landscape - one where the spectacle is in the details, or form, and therefore content is mostly irrelevant. It is a really rewarding challenge, too, to compose and prosecute rapidly and intuitively in black and white, especially given a window of opportunity of fleeting but otherwise unknown duration.
This is the sort of photograph and memory that makes me aspire to become a nomad, ceaselessly travelling the world seeking out such places and insatiably drinking in each experience.