A Dull Woman's Van Life

Date: November 2025

I’ve always loved wildlife, and my first real foray into photography began with a trusty Fujifilm FinePix bridge camera. It was all I could afford at the time, but for nearly fifteen years it went everywhere with me — through rain, frost, and golden dawns on the hills.

Two years ago, I finally decided it was time to take the plunge and invest in something more advanced. I’d long hankered for a camera with interchangeable lenses — something that could bring me closer to the wildlife I’ve spent so many years watching. So I treated myself to an OM-1, and since then, my collection of lenses and gadgets has steadily grown… along with an equally impressive assortment of camera bags to house them all.

Determined to do things properly this time, I even went on a day course to learn how to use it. After fifteen years of “automatic” mode, I was ready to understand what all those dials and buttons actually did.

Of course, for every sharp, well-composed photograph I post, there are thousands more that never see the light of day — blurred, out of focus, badly lit, or simply not as good as the one I imagined.

But that’s part of the joy. I share my best shots on local Facebook groups, so that others who can’t make it up into the hills can still enjoy the sights of deer, kestrels, and foxes that make this valley so special.

Not long ago, one of those groups invited me to submit a photo for a local competition. The aim was to raise funds to protect the greenbelt at Belthorn — a lovely village on the edge of Blackburn, now under threat from a proposed development that would scar its quiet beauty. After much deliberation, I sent in my leaping deer — my absolute favourite shot to date.

Imagine my delight when I learned that not only had my photo been chosen for the calendar, but it had also been crowned the overall winner, taking pride of place on the front cover.

I even received a cheque — which, naturally, was swiftly invested in more camera gear. This time, a laser sight to help my slightly aging eyes pick out those distant shapes on the hillside.

Is it a bird? A plane? A pigeon… or a sparrowhawk? With luck — and a steadier hand — I might just find out.

Photography teaches patience — not just in waiting for the right moment, but in learning to see the world differently. It sharpens your eye to the small things: the tilt of a kestrel’s wing, the flick of a deer’s tail, the golden light catching on frost. Even the missed shots have their lessons. For every photo that fails, there’s a deeper appreciation of the fleeting beauty that passes before the lens — and a reminder that sometimes, the real reward is simply being there to witness it.