A waterfall can be the work of an earthquake, a landslide, a glacier or a volcano reshaping the land. Most of the popular ones in the UK are within walking distance, and you can see some from the roadside. For me the buzz is the hike to find one that isn't all over social media. Selfishly, it means I can take my time over the photographs without someone else wandering into the picture.
How I get the silky water
There's a lot written about the technical side of waterfall photography and the settings to use. I'll be honest: I don't think about settings too much. I care more about being there, and about the photograph I come home with.
The beauty of a modern camera is that you can delete a shot and try again. I know what it takes to get that smooth, silky water, but I don't sit there with an app working out exposure times for each ND filter. I set the camera to shutter priority, fit the ND filter I think suits the scene, and adjust the shutter speed until the histogram sits in the middle. The camera then tells me how long the exposure will be, and I adjust from there depending on how creative I want to be.
Photography, like any art, is subjective. I'd like to think my approach has given me some smooth, silky waterfalls. Are they perfect? Of course not. If it takes 10,000 hours of practice to become an expert, I have a long way to go.
Hindhope Linn, Kielder Forest
Forestry England describe Hindhope Linn as a spectacular waterfall in a quiet, enchanting dell. I couldn't agree more.
The waterfall
At first I felt a little underwhelmed. It was much smaller than the photos I'd seen online, and there wasn't much power in it. But within five minutes in that enchanted-looking forest it had become one of my favourite places. It also showed me there's much more to waterfall photography than the waterfall itself.
These three were the best compositions I could manage in the conditions and at that time of year. In late autumn the sun sits a little too low. In summer, with the sun higher, I think you could catch a sunburst through the trees above the fall. I still like how they turned out, and I've since sold the third one, with a great review.
This was my first visit. I'd come straight from Crammel Linn, so I only had a couple of hours of daylight left. I wandered a little way and came across a bridge over another waterfall. Stand on that bridge, look back at the water spilling over the rocks, and you can see Hindhope Linn in the distance. The light had gone before I could try that composition, but I'll be back.
Come in summer and again in autumn and you'll leave with completely different photographs, both of them stunning. This is one place that didn't disappoint.
Scaleber Force, North Yorkshire
Remember I said you can see some waterfalls from the roadside? You can't quite see Scaleber Force from the road, but you can hear it. Park in the lay-by, cross the road and a stile, and you're there.
I found it by chance. I was visiting my daughter at Leeds University and looking for somewhere to hike, and this came up. That first visit was in November, when the trees had lost nearly all their leaves, and it didn't feel like a good composition.
These photographs are from October 2021. What a difference a month makes. We'd had a long summer that held back the autumn, and I love the balance of trees still in their summer colours with autumn leaves scattered on the ground.
Scaleber Force has three, maybe four, layers. The main photograph is what I'd call the top layer. To get it I had to climb the huge ledge you can't see in the picture. I believe there's a stone path up to that level, but the ground was saturated and muddy, and I didn't fancy using the bank as a slide with my camera gear.
I think it's the most complete composition of Scaleber Force. The flow was just right to split the water into sections. My one wish is that the boulder in the middle left wasn't there. It's a distraction, and I couldn't find a composition without it. You can leave it out if you only want the main fall, but I love the main fall with the two smaller ones in front.
The first of these leaves out the main fall altogether. I'd call it the third layer. I love the way you look across from this angle and catch a little sunshine lighting the background. I still can't tell whether that's part of my tripod in the water or one of the many branches!
For the second I stayed on the third layer and moved a little to the left, to see if I could fit in more of the falls. You can just make out the main waterfall in the distance, with the second and third layers in front. You'll find Scaleber Force in my waterfalls collection.
Crammel Linn, Northumberland
These are the largest falls in Northumberland, on the River Irthing, which forms the border between Northumberland and Cumbria. My sat nav was playing up and I got a little lost. I foolishly followed a sign that said "no access to Crammel Linn", thinking it was about the hidden fighter jet (spoiler: it's not that hidden). It wasn't. I followed a farm track for about a mile before I realised it looked nothing like the map I'd studied before my sat nav went haywire.
When you finally reach the parking bay it feels like the middle of nowhere. You're on RAF Spadeadam land, but you're fine to go as far as the parking bay. From there it's straightforward: follow the signs and you'll soon hear the water.
Check access before you go
I always research a place before I go, so I know about access and anything else important. I'd heard about the chaos here during the 2020 Covid pandemic, when it seemed everyone came for a picnic, parked badly and left their rubbish behind, spoiling it for the rest of us. The whole waterfall is now fenced off, with a locked gate. On the day I visited the gate was open, but I could see the chain and lock. My research hadn't mentioned it, so I didn't know whether entry was managed or the landowner was doing checks. I made my way down carefully, expecting to be shouted at, but no one was around. Please bear this in mind if you plan to visit. I wouldn't want to upset the locals by suggesting it's open to visitors if it isn't.
Apart from that, the weather was kind, with the sun sitting low by the time I arrived. On a late summer evening I imagine the sun would light up the main fall with some stunning colour. These were taken in October, when the trees still had most of their leaves and a few autumn colours lay on the ground.
They're about the best compositions I could get with my wide angle lens. If I'd brought my 16-55mm with the ND filters, I could have moved further back for a different angle. I did look for a composition from the other side of the river. About 100 metres upstream there's a small drop where you could cross, if it hasn't rained much and you've brought your wellies. I hadn't. From what I could see it would be tricky to get round far enough for a worthwhile composition, which is probably why nearly every photograph of Crammel Linn online looks the same.
Nick
