Don’t you just hate going out for a walk with a photographer? He or she doesn’t even have to be a professional photographer either – the keen amateur is far worse – and nearly everyone these days is a keen amateur (just not in my circle of friends). Modern mobiles have such great camera capabilities now that many owners get rather carried away with the idea that everything in sight might be that special, one in a million, sensational shot (quite by accident, of course).
Most people have a particular style of walking in the countryside (or Fells in this instance). Some race on ahead of the others in a party – they are the natural leaders (and fitness experts); they assume the role of the pace-setter and carry on charging ahead to a point which they think would be a good resting place… perhaps by a gate or tree. They wait by the pretty spot and recover their breaths until the plodders arrive at the resting place, after which they instantly shoot off again to their favoured position fifty metres in front.
The plodders are the dreamers and altruists. They know full well that they could easily keep up with the leaders if they wished but they don’t wish to; for them the enjoyment of taking a walk in the countryside is considerably heightened by taking their time, and breathing in the beauty as they go along, rather than gasping by a gate or tree after a fast stretch. Another reason why the plodders walk at a leisurely pace is because they worry about the stragglers behind. A sense of concern and their empathy with the underdog suits them well in certain circumstances, such as walking in the countryside, because this gives them an excuse to go against the urging of the natural leaders – after all, the dreamers don’t want to be led, they simply want to amble around freely to look at butterflies, heather, gorse or even brown thistle stalks… if they fancy! Sometimes they take pleasure in applying guilt tactics to persuade the leaders to wait a few more seconds at the resting place, maybe holding the gate open, until the straggler catches up.
The keen photographer is both a straggler and a mountain goat. But the photographer does not lag behind intentionally to irritate; one’s love of every single minute detail of nature (not to mention the chance of that million-to-one brilliant shot) draws one off the path – up a rock, under a bough, through a gap in a fence, crouching down to the height of a chicken, any and every angle possible (for that something special and unusual). And poor weather is no deterrent – there is “drama” in the shadows and “magic” in the mist; an interested cow or a stoical goat on a hillside is a model of perfection worthy of its moment of fame behind the lens. Then, with a sureness of foot akin to a mountain goat, the lagging photographer runs over rocky terrain to catch up with the plodders who are passing through the gate held open by the leader…
Feeling rather fit and innervated by all the bursts of ambling and running, the photographer overtakes the leaders and at last manages to take some portrait shots… How irritating! Don’t you just hate walking with a pesky photographer?
