Embracing Unplanned Moments in Photography

How letting go of perfection and trusting your instincts can lead to the most memorable shots.

Whenever I look back at the photos I've taken, sifting through the archives, the ones that have become personal favourites that have made a lasting impression, aren’t the ones I meticulously planned. They're not the images I spent hours crafting, from the initial spark of inspiration to the full-fledged idea of what I hoped it could be. I didn't carefully check weather forecasts to ensure the right conditions, nor did I spend time scouting the location, considering the perfect light, or planning for that one rare moment when everything aligned and I could press the shutter.

No, the images that have stayed with me are the ones I stumbled upon, those moments I fell into arse first without any planning. I’d notice something, instinctively raise the camera, snap the shot with little thought, and move on to what I viewed as my goal at the time. Once back home and I looked back at those photos, it was often the ones taken in those fleeting moments of spontaneity that stood out.

E X I L E D : When descending down from the moors, I first noticed a tree on the right. After stopping and walking through a gap in the stone wall, I saw a group of trees down the valley. The lone tree stood apart, leaning into the frame, surrounded by fog, creating a sense of sadness as if it had been rejected by the others and pushed higher into the moors.

Knowing this, I try to remind myself when I go out with my camera, whether or not I have a clear plan in mind, that these quiet, unassuming moments, those that whisper just loudly enough to catch my attention, are often the ones I find most impactful. They serve as a reminder to trust my instincts and take the shot without overthinking it. These become the outings I remember most.

So, last Saturday morning, when I woke up I had no plans to head out. I had intended to the day before but had decided against it due to fatigue, I have been listening to my body more lately, resting when it told me to, which can be frustrating, but necessary due to a health condition. Still, that morning, as diffused light crept around the edges of the curtains, I felt a sudden spark of energy. I drew the curtains back and saw that thick fog had descended over the Dales, something that hadn’t been forecast.

Over the course of this morning, many moorland birds were active. Including mistle thrush like the one in this image, lapwings, oyster catchers, woodcocks, and a little owl that had just completed a successful hunt. Since it is nesting season at this time of year, I stayed by the road to avoid disturbing these birds during this important time.

With no plan and no idea how long the fog would linger, or how far it stretched, I grabbed my camera and decided to go for a drive. The goal wasn’t to capture anything specific, but simply to see what might catch my eye. I followed winding roads through the upper Dales, over fells that rose above the fog like islands, then dipped back down into the mist.

I have photographed this tree before (which can be found at the top of my homepage) but not from this angle. The dense fog, the different shape of the tree combined with the long dry grass gave a completely different feel to the scene.

It was a quiet morning, and the stillness of the fog only amplified that gentle serene feeling. Pulling over here and there to capture a variety of subjects from lone trees twisting above the landscape to dew-laced spiderwebs strung delicately between the tall blades of grass.

Who doesn’t love the delicate beauty of a spider web shimmering in the light of the rising sun.

Not every photo worked. But a few did that I am happy with as well as a memorable morning, that I could have easily talked myself out of:

"I haven’t got up early enough"

"I'm not prepared"

"I dont have a location in mind"

"What if by the time I get somewhere its gone" 

All the usual excuses that creep in with the self doubt. Often amplified as a result of all the 'planning' described above and the pressure I exert on myself to make it all perfect. Because it never is. And 'perfection' isn't the point. The point is just trying to get out, regardless of the weather or time of day, as long as I have the time and energy, with the most preparation now being "Do I need to wear water proofs?" And allowing those best moments and opportunities to find me... if I let them.