[caption id="attachment_3852" align="alignright" width="300"]Lowestoft Ness Lowestoft Ness on PAN-F in Rodinal 1+50[/caption] On Monday 22 May at 0810, I stepped on to a half-submerged concrete jetty in Lowestoft, Suffolk. Awash with seawater and slick with seaweed, this tiny walkway is the easternmost point in Great Britain – and journey’s end for my trip to the four extreme points of the mainland. I looked out to a glittering horizon beneath the blazing sun as my trusty OM-4Ti’s timer beeped behind me. At 0815 the shutter clicked, setting the seal on a personal project that has seen me travel nearly 2,200 miles by road, rail, foot and flight. Many of the pictures I’ve posted about this project so far have been digital, but my chosen medium for the actual project was film – specifically Ilford PAN F, a low-speed, fine-grain black and white film. 35mm film was the dominant photographic medium for much of the 20th Century, and most readers will remember having used it for holiday snaps at some point. For a film enthusiast, though, the attachment to the medium runs a little deeper than holiday snaps, and it involves quite a bit more thought.

[caption id="attachment_3766" align="alignright" width="225"]Rainbow seascape A rainbow frames Muckle Skerry Lighthouse in the Pentland Firth, near John o' Groats, Scotland.[/caption] The next stage in my personal photography project took me to the northernmost point on the British mainland: Dunnet Head, a storm-lashed promontory in the north of Scotland. For landscape photographers the whole place is a gift: one proud white lighthouse, plunging cliffs and a handful of fall-down wartime buildings (more to follow on those…). Standing at the head of the cliffs near the lighthouse you can watch squalls passing through the Pentland Firth, half-concealing the Orkneys on the horizon. If you and your camera are suitably weatherproof, you can wait for them to make landfall. I shoot with an Olympus OM-D E-M1 Mk II, which is more than capable of withstanding the elements - essential for making the most of passing storms. Stormy weather can seem soul-sapping at its worst, but it’s often worth hanging about to see what it can deliver. After visiting Dunnet Head I headed - via the wonderful Dunnet Bay Distillery - to Duncansby Head, the northwesternmost point of Great Britain (close to John o’ Groats). After a few hours of dull, watery light I noticed a storm blowing towards me, away from the sun and out to sea: perfect rainbow conditions. A quick sprint back to the lighthouse - fumbling a polariser on to my lens on the way - rewarded me with some truly magnificent views of rainbows drifting towards the horizon. These, I think, made every drop of rain worthwhile.

[caption id="attachment_3771" align="alignright" width="225"]Ardnamurchan scene Ardnamurchan Lighthouse seen from a nearby burn, Scotland.[/caption] At Corrachadh Mòr - the westernmost point on the British mainland - the wind is ceaseless. It tears at my jacket as I set up my tripod on ancient lava flows, frozen beneath pastel-blue skies and gilt-edged clouds. Before me, the Atlantic pounds the rocks and stretches out to a horizon marked, here and there, by the indistinct blur of distant squalls. When those squalls make landfall I shelter behind grey boulders, protecting my cameras from the stinging rain. From Corrachadh Mòr - an unmarked rocky hillock jutting into the sea - the distant Ardnamurchan Lighthouse and its access road are the sole signs of civilisation. More than anywhere else I’ve visited in Britain, this place feels like it’s at the edge of the world. It’s that remoteness that makes this visit so fundamental to my personal project, which will see me travel the length and breadth of Great Britain to photograph its four extreme points - northernmost, southernmost, easternmost and westernmost. Wilderness, remoteness and solitude have always been key motivators in my travel photography and street photography. Looking over my portfolio I can see two types of solitude: there’s the kind I feel when I’m alone in a crowd or urban space, and the kind I feel here at Corrachadh Mòr - where I’m at least two hours away from the nearest person. My personal project focuses squarely on the second kind of solitude. In each location I will make a self-portrait showing me alone in the landscape, as well as a picture of the landscape itself. I hope this will yield eight very different photographs, while still reflecting on the factors that unite those locations.

[caption id="attachment_3688" align="alignright" width="300"]Cornish cream tea Cream tea at Lizard Point, Cornwall, England.[/caption] Cornwall is one of those places I think I’ll never explore in full. I’m a frequent visitor, attracted to those wild coastlines, stormy skies and - let’s be honest - cream teas. So I was pleased to have a chance to visit a spot I’d not explored before, as part of my current personal photography project. I’m visiting the four extreme cardinal points of the UK, and the southernmost is Lizard Point. I arrived at my camping spot (the marvellously indie Henry’s Campsite) late on a clear night and set up beneath sparkling skies. Night sky photography is a rare treat for a Londoner, but the basics are straightforward. The challenge is finding a worthy foreground subject. I hope my choice of the Lizard Lighthouse vindicates a windswept couple of hours in the teeth of a Cornish gale.