When writing about Whitby by day, I mentioned that I could not find my photos of Whitby by night.
Well, I found them! Here they are!
These are some of the most atmospheric photographs I’ve ever taken, from a night where I felt more alive than I have in a long time.
It’s hard to put into words just how great it felt to walk along that vast expanse of sand by night. Thanks to the glow of the town behind us, it wasn’t quite pitch-black, but visibility was reduced to about six metres. And looking out to the sea, we couldn’t see a thing. Just the white of the foam as the waves crashed. Beyond that, nothing.
There were other people on the beach, but we didn’t encounter any of them directly. They were just dark shapes, drifting as aimlessly as we were, like fellow lost souls in limbo.
I used my phone’s in-built camera, which isn’t bad, but I don’t think the above photos come close to capturing the bleak wonder I felt down there. For that matter, I don’t think any photo could.
It was the wind, the vastness, the emptiness, the beckoning deathly sea – all enhanced by the fact that I was ever so slightly drunk. Not even the most expensive camera, wielded by the most expert photographer, could ever hope to capture those feelings in a single image.
I think my photos of the pier, though, are a lot more successful:
Sat on every bench, a ghost.
You see that little blue light to the left of the image? That’s a torch. There were people stood right at the very end, shining torches into the sea. I have no idea why.
In my previous post, I described this mysterious activity as “literally dreadful”, and it was, in as much as it infused us with so much dread that we had to turn back.
In turning back, we were able to take in the ghostly wonder of Whitby in foggy darkness:
Looking at these photos now, I feel like I’ve found my spiritual home. I must return to Whitby. Next time, I’ll spend much longer in the Dracula museum.