Les Arcs (French Alps)

Les Arcs – the French Alps What a few days – my first time in the Alps and first experience of skiing “out in the wild”. Climbing the mountain by car under cover of night didn’t wake my senses up to the vast beauty and the stark terror of being on the side of a mountain so high. Opening the curtains on the first full day and it hit me hard – it was a different world up there; the snow, the minus 8 degrees centigrade, the thin air and the expert ski-ers racing around us. Standing at the window and staring out, I realised that this trip would be different – beautiful but challenging even. I hit the first day hard – picking up my equipment for skiing and racing up to where we could practice, despite only having had a single lesson before travelling out. My first ten runs or so were great and the instructor on the practice slope was impressed, so my confidence rocketed and I felt that tiny itch of hypomania pushing back against my medicated mind. That was until we ended up on the first proper run… We took to the Piste De Minis – a beginner run aimed at children. I believed it would be easy, as I’d become too confident for my own good. I started to follow the instructor but quickly lost control, and the confidence was shattered – I realised I had (as often used to happen before my diagnosis), bitten off more than I could chew, and was then hurtling downhill with very little control over speed and direction! Suddenly the fluffy and welcoming snow became hard and jagged walls of ice; the only thing ready to stop me being the need to slam into one of these cold barriers, or to throw myself down onto the floor… After losing my cool and throwing myself onto the cold, hard snow barrier on the edge of the piste, I realised that I was struggling to feel my feet – boots were too tight and honestly it felt like a relief to know it wasn’t just my head – there was a real, physical reason for my lack of control. I just didn’t have the skiing experience to recognise this sooner and to save myself the worry – cut myself some slack. I think that’s the main message for me from a mental health perspective – you can’t always be perfect, especially if you rush into something without taking the time to really give it a go. It takes time to learn a new skill, to get used to a new medication, to make lifestyle changes, to learn which photos are made vs those that are taken. Give yourself time and for goodness sake, cut yourself some slack! Luckily for me, at the end of the day on this trip, there was always a nice cold beer and some tasty snacks waiting at the restaurant-come-pub-come-club! I used photography on this trip to escape some of the intensity of being out on the slopes – especially as there were a multitutde of new sensory experiences my body needed to get used to, from the snow and ice to the stiff and uncomfortable boots. Because photography can be slow and deliberate, it gives us a platform to move and enjoy the world around us, to really see it, whilst doing so at our own pace. That is one of the biggest gifts of photography in my eyes. Until next time guys, keep it real!   The Bipolar Photographer x Subscribe for new posts and exclusive prints! * indicates required First Name Last Name Email Address * /* real people should not fill this in and expect good things – do not remove this or risk form bot signups */

Ashford Hangers National Nature Reserve

Ashford Hangers National Nature Reserve Join me on a short ramble across the sunrise-drenched Ashford Hangers NNR! A Sunrise Waterfall Walk for Wellbeing I don’t know about you, but sometimes I like to wake up early on a sunny weekend morning. Something about getting up early on the weekend feels naughty – like you shouldn’t be rising and instead should be lounging in bed. After all, you can’t do that during the week when you’re working right? Well what about if your body just wakes up even earlier than early?  I had planned on this particular weekend to wake up early and go to the Ashford Hangers National Nature Reserve to take some photographs of a the largest local “waterfall” (which turned out to be a chute of water coming out of a wall on private property), but sadly that wasn’t meant to be. Despite my suspicions as I tucked myself into bed the night before, knowing that the “waterfall” look like a disappointment, I snuggled on down with my cat Gary and went to bed filled with thoughts of the epic photos I could make in the morning… Roll on 5am and my body wakes me up – more specifically my brain. I heard a bang coming from somewhere in my house, only to feel too much guilt for not checking it out, so I got up and hazily walked around my house, figuring that if I was being robbed, I may as well get murdered too because I was asleep and nothing was going to wake me up at this time! That said, I was greeted by the pitter-patter of Gary’s feet and he guided me back to the bed for an early morning snuggle. By this point though, I was well and truly awake, so after a quick bit of companionship, I rose and got ready (EXTRA EARLY) to head off to Ashford Hangers National Nature Reserve near Petersfield, Hampshire – not too far from where I live. Climbing Down Into The Valley… That naughty feeling hit me again as I pulled into a layby at the top of the reserve, peering over the edge of a sheer drop on the other edge of some catkin-laden shrubs. The sun was blazing through the valley below, illuminating everything in its path all the way up the banks of gnarled trees barely touched by people in places. As I scrambled across the road and up an embankment to get a better view, I turned around and once again got that naughty feeling – I felt like the only person in the world seeing this view right now, and it felt exhilarating! I spent some time faffing, some time making the pictures you see above, and then some more faffing. I gradually made my way down from the top of the nature reserve until I came upon this old church – no idea of the name of the village; there didn’t seem to be anything here but the church, a farm out-building, and a small brick cottage farmhouse. The light felt drinkable it was that smooth! Photographing churches seems to be an accident that keeps happening to me – funny for a man who isn’t the slightest bit Christian! In fact, I often feel like I’d more likely be struck down if I entered a church on account of my tendency to believe more in nature than the supernatural. In a way, I suppose that’s the contrast I didn’t know I needed from this little ramble out. Often when my mental health is struggling, it’s next to impossible to get out and about to do things like exercise, or anything goal-related really. Since getting my diagnosis though, I’ve been imbued with that little bit of motivation to get started, and really that’s exactly what I needed to get up and make the most of the opportunities that Ashford Hangers afforded me that day. And since then, doing this trip has motivated me to do all sorts, including learning how to build this site! So i think that’s the message – take a couple of steps at a time; baby steps if you need it, then just aim to go a little further next time… Until next time, The Bipolar Photographer! P.S. I may have a few prints in my Fine Art Print Shop, if you’ve spotted any images that you like here! https://youtu.be/E34R8bvG4CU Scroll To Top Subscribe for new posts and exclusive prints! * indicates required First Name Last Name Email Address * /* real people should not fill this in and expect good things – do not remove this or risk form bot signups */