Comet hunting at New Asgard

For the past week I've had the notion to see the Comet 'Neowise'. The wonder of all things 'space' has fascinated me since I was a wee boy and has held my interest in science & science fiction throughout my life. However, it's now nearing the end of summer here in Scotland - clear skies are few & far between, and following almost a whole week of rain I wasn't holding out much hope, so a little planning was necessary.

My father-in-law has been an avid hill-walker throughout his life and recently introduced me to an app called 'Windy' - its by far the best weather forecasting reference I've used for planning walks and such. This together with an hour or two on 'Google Earth' and 'The Photographers Ephemeris' highlighted that the only clear sky night, over the course of a week, was to be on the south east coast. I'm not familiar with the area at all, but I knew that I needed a view directly north with no light pollution and at least some other content I could shoot if 'Neowise' didn't make an appearance. The small coastal village of St. Abbs stuck out as the best prospect so I spent a little time on '500px' to see what options there were.

To my utter delight I realised St Abbs was used as used as the location for 'New Asgard' in the Marvel move 'Avengers: Endgame'. I know to a normal person this wouldn't mean much, but to a geek like me (and a few select friends with similar interests) there would be something very, very cool about a comet above New Asgard - as far as I know that would be quite unique.

St. Abbs, however, has quite a high rugged cliff top along its coastline to the north (it's actually a national trust nature reserve - beautiful and packed with wildlife), so there was only actually a couple of locations possible.

The first would be the lighthouse at 'St. Abbs Head', the second - 'Pettico Wick Bay' and the third the road leading down to it. The road hit the spot as I remembered it from the film when shows 'Hulk' sitting in the bed of a Landrover pick-up on the route to New Asgard.

I had the 3 shots I wanted for the night.

When I arrived the National Trust car-park wasn't too busy (a few Spanish students and walkers returning to their vehicles), the path looked to be clear too. I'm finding the trouble with locations like this is trying to avoid people in your shots - happily I only met a couple along the way.

If you visit here you'll find the path is very well maintained, at least to the top of the cliff, and it honestly isn't that challenging a walk. It offers great views overlooking the village which would be great to shoot in morning or evening light, particularly in the summer. The walk after that is only a couple of miles up to my furthest location - 'Pettico Wick Bay', though it is a bit up and down at times so seems longer. I passed the lighthouse, the road and finally arrived at the bay. There was a couple in their 50's, embracing, who I think were a bit annoyed that someone else turned up for sunset, but they buggered off once I'd plonked my self down and got ready to shoot.

Pettico Wick Bay is a delightful location for sunset. It has a very, very old jetty built from large granite blocks and rusted iron tracks where they would have used a wheeled trolley pulled by horse to offload supplies to the local lighthouse keepers and their families. The lighthouse itself dates back to 1862 but you get the sense that the jetty is much older. It's such a remote location, and I'd imagine shipping in supplies would have been the most economical way of doing it for many years. The odd thing is the huge jagged outcrop of rock at the end of the jetty. A sloped jetty like that would lead you to imaging a boat being launched, but the rock is clearly in the way. Evidently, the water is so shallow that only smaller supply boats would have been used to ferry said supplies from larger ships anchored off-shore.

I'd hoped to get a long exposure shot of the waves lashing against the rocks, creeping its way up the granite slip, but the tide was out and it'd be dark by the time it was in. However, the soft golden light that begun to hit the cliffs and the boulder-strewn shore was a landscape photographers dream. The sun was still above the horizon, but kissing a thin band of cloud building off the sea to the north. Perfect - or so I thought. All the conditions were right for 'golden hour' but I'd later find that band of cloud obscuring the view of the comet.

A few shots in the bag, and a flask of soup in my belly and I made my way back up the 'road to New Asgard' the light wasn't fantastic here ans there is a rocky cliff between it and the sea, but I had to have it.

As I moved up towards the lighthouse now it was going on half past ten, and I'd realised I'd squandered the best of 'golden hour' at the bay. It was also getting windy and I was doubting I'd get the shot I wanted of the comet above the lighthouse. I realise such a shot could be a bit contrived if I'd gone ahead and used a star tracker and blended and positioned it in Photoshop later. I started heading back to the car when I came to a fork in the path - to the right lay the car and a two hour drive home, to the left a higher clifftop and an assured overnight rough sleep exposed to the elements. There was no way of coming down from there safely even with a head torch but I was determined to stay. I knew it wasn't going to rain, but it would be pitch black as the summer moon wasn't to rise till just before dawn. I'd also started to realise that the comet was going to be elusive as that far bank of clouds on the horizon was slowly making its way further eastwards across the North Sea, and from where i pitched up for the night the comet would have been perfectly positioned above the lighthouse by half past twelve - the darkest time of the night sky.

Ultimately, the comet shot wasn't to be, I was so disappointed. The clouds thwarted my planning, and the light from the lighthouse was also blinding as I'd stupidly positioned myself at exactly the same height. The only way would have been with clear skies and dozens of 4 second exposures, using a sky tracker, timed between each pulse of the lighthouse and blended together in Photoshop later. Too much faffing. So, I decided to get in my sleeping bag, set up the tripod and catch a few shots between naps. It was slightly breezy and only Iso10000 was picking anything up and obviously far too grainy and blurred, but it DID catch the comet through the cloud, just. Also, without the pressure of running around shooting I could relax and enjoy the clear view east across the north sea to the lights of the oil and gas platforms in the distance, and the noises of the birds settling in for the night on the cliff-side.

Plan B was to get my things together by 3am, just before sunrise, and wander back to the lighthouse. Maybe the predawn light would catch the small bank of could that formed overnight. It's a cliche shot, but we all have to learn the ropes somehow. The very narrow path that skirts the wall of the cottage above the lighthouse isn't for the feint-hearted. At least a 100ft drop and carrying camera gear and a sleeping bag I did take my time. I also have a fear of heights so never let it be said I don't go the extra mile for my art.

Once I'd dropped dropped my bag and set up my composition I slowed down, had some breakfast and waited, patiently, for the light - and boy was it worth it. A small boat collecting lobster pots zigg-zagged two-and-fro across the water as the first hints of blue and purple grey into pinks and oranges. It was changing so quickly and I knew it'd be over in 15 minutes or so, but I wasn't going to do my usual and run around trying to find other angles. My photography mentors have impressed upon me the need for slowing down and being satisfied with getting one shot right. I decided to omit the fishing boat, it would have been overkill, instead I wanted to try to incorporate a spilt second of light from the lighthouse lamp itself. Not a full beam, more the reflection on the glass itself as the pulse died down. Over 100 shots later I got it. As the sun crept over the horizon I stopped, packed everything away and headed along the path back to the car. More than happy with at least 3 shots from the trip and the experience itself. I was tired from my night sleeping in the dirt, but fulfilled with efforts, and after a day of editing and catching up on rest I'm happy to add them to my collection and share them with you all.

Plans don't always work out, more-so with landscape photography, but even though the comet didn't make the best appearance I still got to walk the road to New Asgard, and that made the trip for me - and a cracking memory.

JP