This beautifully crafted hardback is a collection of some of my favourite Lake District landscape photographs, captured between 2020 and 2026. It celebrates the changing moods, colours and quiet beauty of this remarkable landscape throughout the seasons.

Featuring a Preface by Chris Sale, the book contains 95 pages and has been professionally printed and case-bound by Johnsons of Nantwich.

The book is divided into seven themed chapters, each exploring a different mood, season, location or character of the Lake District landscape:

1.Golden

2.Tranquillity

3.The Allure of Blea Tarn

4.Atmosphere

5.Seasonal Changes

6.Energy

7.Frozen

So why did I decide to create this book?

Initially, I simply wanted a collection of my favourite photographs as a personal keepsake and a reminder of the incredible experiences I’ve enjoyed since discovering landscape photography in 2020. But as the project developed, I began to wonder whether others might enjoy that journey too.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve found myself thinking more about legacy. It also seems a great shame that so many photographs spend their lives hidden away on hard drives, rarely seen or appreciated in the way they deserve.

I have also thoroughly enjoyed the journey of writing this book and selecting each photograph for inclusion. Curating the collection and seeing it take shape ready for printing has been a deeply rewarding experience, bringing together six years of memorable moments spent exploring and photographing the Lake District.

My hope is that Reflections Of The Lake District encourages you to slow down, look more closely, and appreciate the extraordinary beauty of my home area – the Lake District. Perhaps it will even inspire you to visit these landscapes yourself. More than anything, I hope it fosters a deeper appreciation of the natural world and reminds us all of the importance of protecting the places that inspire, enrich and sustain us.

The book is available to purchase on my website:

Get your copy here

Since I started my photography journey, one of the iconic shots I have craved is a photograph of the famous pine trees with Haystacks behind them, perfectly reflected in the still waters of Buttermere and bathed in beautiful early morning light. On previous visits I had managed to capture lovely reflections, but as soon as the sun reached the valley floor and illuminated the trees, the rising air currents disturbed the water and spoiled the mirror-like effect.

Finally, in May this year, after many attempts, I at last captured the image I had been chasing.

Another of my favourite viewpoints in Buttermere is the iconic Warnscale Bothy, which sits majestically at the head of Warnscale Beck with commanding views over the valley. It is a fantastic sunset location, particularly in June when the setting sun lines up perfectly, allowing warm golden light to spill across the bothy.

Having photographed the bothy many times before, I decided on a recent visit to try something different after finding the area busy. While I was there, I noticed the remains of an old building high above the bothy. Intrigued, I climbed up to investigate. What I discovered surprised me, as I had never previously noticed the old slate bunker tucked away on the hillside. Immediately I knew it would make an excellent foreground subject, so I settled in and waited patiently for sunset.

Recently, I decided to tackle a 15km walk along Buttermere’s western skyline, taking in several viewpoints along the way to see what I could capture with my camera. My first destination was one of the Lake District’s most famous waterfalls.

Buttermere is home to several waterfalls, but perhaps the best known is Scale Force, one of the largest single-drop waterfalls in England at 170 feet (52 metres). Unlike most Lake District waterfalls, Scale Force remains hidden until you are almost upon it, concealed within a narrow gorge that would not look out of place in New Zealand. The slender ribbon of water cascading down the rock face is a truly spectacular sight.

Reaching the best viewpoint requires a careful scramble over smooth, well-worn rocks, but the effort is well worthwhile. Although the waterfall is popular despite being around a 45-minute walk from Buttermere village, relatively few people venture up to the higher viewpoint, meaning you can often enjoy it in peaceful solitude.

With hopes of photographing the sunset from High Stile later that evening, I left Scale Force and began the long, demanding climb towards Red Pike. As I gained height, I became increasingly concerned by the strengthening wind, and before long I was pulling on extra layers and reaching for my woolly hat.

From a photographic perspective, I have always found Red Pike rather uninspiring, so I continued on to High Stile, where the wind was even stronger and the temperature noticeably colder. After exploring the area for a while, I eventually found a composition I liked, looking across Bleaberry Tarn towards Crummock Water, with beautifully textured rocks leading the eye through the foreground.

I waited there for about an hour, taking photographs whenever the light showed promise. However, I was becoming increasingly cold, and there were still another two hours before the start of Golden Hour. Should I stay or should I call it a day?

Eventually, cloud began rolling in and the chances of a memorable sunset looked increasingly slim. Reluctantly, I decided to abandon my plans and started the descent down High Stile’s steep, rocky prow towards Buttermere.

I had never used this route before, and I quickly realised it would have been a difficult and potentially dangerous descent in fading light after sunset. My concerns proved well founded when I stumbled into a boulder field and twisted my ankle. Thankfully, I escaped with nothing more serious, as the outcome could easily have been much worse.

I limped down the remainder of the path, occasionally wincing with each step and wondering how long my ankle would take to recover. I was frustrated with myself, but there was little I could do except keep going.

As I reached Comb Beck waterfall, I was suddenly reminded why I had come to Buttermere in the first place. The scene before me was simply beautiful. Although I was tired, sore and eager to get back to the car, I couldn’t resist stopping to make a few photographs.

Once a photographer, always a photographer

I recently enjoyed my first visit to the stunning Hebridean Isles of Harris and Lewis, but that’s another story. On my journey there and back, I simply couldn’t resist calling into Glencoe. This time, I was determined to find compositions I hadn’t photographed before and perhaps revisit some familiar scenes in very different conditions.

Before arriving in Glencoe, the weather had been relentlessly wet, and driving through the Glen, the effects were obvious. Masses of water cascaded down mountains through streams that are often barely visible. The mountains above had clearly experienced a huge amount of rainfall, and as a photographer, I think Glencoe suits these moody, cloudy, rain-soaked conditions perfectly — they just seem to fit the landscape.

My first stop was to explore the River Coe upstream from the more traditional photography hotspots I had visited before. I was searching for something different. After trudging up and down the riverbanks for a while, I was delighted to discover a small cascade directly in front of Buachaille Etive Mòr. Given the volume of water flowing through it, I felt it had real potential.

The cascade itself was modest, but I thought that by using a wide-angle lens and getting low to the ground, I could emphasise the foreground flow while placing the brooding mountain behind it. The image below was shot at 16mm with my tripod set as low as possible.

Having captured this image, I decided to revisit a location I had photographed before, but one I suspected would benefit greatly from the wet and moody conditions.

After battling through Glencoe roadworks and traffic chaos caused by filming for the new Highlander movie, I eventually found a place to park and headed down to the famous “S” Bends on the River Coe, a location that has been photographed countless times before.

On arrival, I was delighted to find not only high water levels but also a beautiful aqua tint to the water. I set to work exploring the many possible compositions and eventually settled on the portrait image shown below, which I believe is probably my strongest image from this location and certainly captures the atmosphere I was hoping for.

I think this experience demonstrates the importance of revisiting locations over time and in very different conditions in order to create the images we truly desire.

On my return journey from a very sunny Harris and Lewis, I hoped conditions in Glencoe might finally align for a photograph I had envisioned for quite some time.

Beneath the iconic Buachaille Etive Mòr sits the beautifully positioned white mountain hut Lagangarbh, owned by the Scottish Mountaineering Club. I’ve actually stayed there myself, and it makes a perfect base for walking and climbing in the area.

The white cottage has become an iconic photography subject and can be photographed from many angles, but I had something different in mind.

The sunrise forecast looked promising, so I decided to stay overnight at a Fell and Rock Climbing Club hut conveniently located in Kinlochleven.

After a very early alarm, I quickly made a coffee and set off for Glencoe, wondering what sort of sunrise awaited me. Thankfully, there were no traffic issues this morning as most sensible people were still tucked up in bed.

On arrival, conditions didn’t look particularly encouraging. However, I had made the effort to be there and had nothing else planned, so I decided to set up and wait. Conditions in mountain environments like Glencoe can change incredibly quickly.

I can’t claim the composition I had in mind as entirely my own. I had previously seen images from this location by several photographers and, in particular, a fabulous shot by the talented Welsh photographer Llion Griffiths.

Beneath the A82 lies an old wooden bridge that creates an interesting foreground leading towards the Lagangarbh cottage at the foot of Buachaille Etive Mòr. After some effort, I found a composition I was happy with and positioned myself low on the bridge, creating a strong leading line towards the cottage.

Would the sunrise materialise as I had hoped?

Fortunately, on this morning everything came together: beautiful light, a dramatic sky, and a scene that exceeded my expectations. I left for home a very happy photographer.

This is what I love about landscape photography, the planning, the anticipation, the doubts, the frustrations and occasionally the joy, when everything finally falls into place.

That’s why landscape photography can be so rewarding and addictive, and at times, so frustrating too!

A major source of inspiration for me has been David Southern’s book “Shoreline”, which beautifully captures the intimate landscapes of the Northumberland coast. This book opened my eyes to the creative potential of smaller scenes and encouraged me to slow down and look more carefully. If you are interested in this genre of photography I would thoroughly recommend picking up “Shoreline”, it certainly provided me with lots of inspiration.

With that in mind, I recently planned a trip to Northumberland, hoping to make the most of favourable conditions. My first goal was to photograph sunrise at Bamburgh Castle at high tide. The morning didn’t disappoint, soft, warm tones filled the sky, and the incoming tide created just enough movement in the water to add interest without overwhelming the scene. It was a rewarding start to my day.

After a well-earned coffee break following a 2:30am start, I turned my attention to my second objective: exploring the rock abstracts at Spittal Beach. I had learned that the most interesting rocks are only revealed at low tide, which meant waiting until around midday. Taking my time, I made my way North and then walked out across the beach to the far Eastern end of the beach.

At first, I felt slightly overwhelmed. There was so much detail, so many colours, textures, and shapes competing for attention. But as I slowed down and allowed myself to really observe, the chaos began to resolve into smaller, more intimate compositions. Subtle variations in colour, fine cracks in the rock, and delicate patterns formed by water and erosion started to stand out.

This process of slowing down, of noticing and contemplating, became the most enjoyable part of the experience. Each composition felt like a small discovery, and capturing these intimate details was both rewarding and deeply satisfying. It’s remarkable how photography can reshape your perspective, turning overlooked fragments of the landscape into compelling subjects.

From a technical standpoint, each image was created using a Focus Stack of nine exposures to ensure sharpness throughout the frame. All the photographs were taken on a Sony A7 IV mounted on a tripod, allowing for careful composition and stability during Focus Stacking.

This experience reinforced something I’ve come to value increasingly is the importance of slowing down, really observing and noticing our surroundings. In a world that often encourages us to move quickly, photography offers a reason to pause, to look closer and to appreciate the beauty in the details we might otherwise miss.

Do you prefer the Grand Landscape scenes or the more abstract detailed scenes and please let me know your favourite image?

Thank you for reading.

Although my previous trip included some wintery weather, I really wanted to experience Iceland in proper winter conditions. With that in mind, I planned another trip for February 2026.

I have just returned from a ten-day visit to Iceland’s South and West coasts, organised by Lee Frost Photo Adventures, who I would thoroughly recommend. On arrival there wasn’t much snow, but that quickly changed (be careful what you wish for!).

After an uneventful night at Manchester Airport, our group met up in a surprisingly snow-free Iceland. “Isn’t this supposed to be a winter workshop?” I joked. Once Lee had sorted the minibus, equipped with studded tyres as required during winter in Iceland we travelled to our first location close to the iconic Skógafoss waterfall.

Skógafoss is one of Iceland’s best-known waterfalls, especially since the car park was extended to accommodate the coach trips from Reykjavík. That evening during dinner, the Aurora apps suddenly started pinging. Could we really see the Northern Lights at Skógafoss on our first night – that would be a dream start to the trip?

Even in the darkness we could see the waterfall was partially frozen and after a long and very cold wait, the aurora finally appeared from behind the cloud, with some pillars visible by eye. Whilst not the most spectacular display (this was to come later), we were delighted to capture some images and get the trip off to a great start.

The next morning we were up early to beat the tourists and were greeted by a beautifully wintery scene at Skógafoss. I found a composition with foreground ice and a lovely leading line created by the frozen outflow from the falls leading towards the partially frozen cascade. We also visited the much quieter nearby spectacular Kvernufoss waterfall which is well worth a visit as you can walk behind the falls.

Another highlight of the trip was visiting Jökulsárlón Glacier Lagoon and nearby Diamond Beach. Diamond Beach can get extremely busy, so visiting early for sunrise is best. The “diamonds”, chunks of glacial ice, break off from the glacier lagoon, drift out to sea, and are then washed back onto the black sand beach.

I was hoping to capture one of these ice Diamonds illuminated by the rising sun, creating beautiful colours as the light passed through the ice. Thankfully I managed to achieve exactly that, although the location works wonderfully at other times of the day too.

When we moved Westwards, the dramatic mountains of Vestrahorn and Eystrahorn were high on our list to photograph. Vestrahorn is an extraordinary mountain, and I had long dreamed of photographing the Aurora here. As it turned out, we captured the Northern Lights on two separate nights here complete with a hint of the Milky Way. It was an unforgettable experience which will live long in the memory banks.

Another image I had in mind was an aerial shot of Eystrahorn. Having seen many stunning drone photographs of the mountain sitting dramatically on the edge of the coast, I was keen to attempt something similar. This ended up being the only time I flew my DJI Mini 5 Pro on the trip due to Iceland’s famously windy weather, but it was so worth it. However, it was a slightly nerve-wracking flight as I had to fly the drone nearly one kilometre out to sea to achieve the composition I was after. Thankfully everything went smoothly, although I do wish I could have gained a little more altitude to capture the sweeping curve of the road more clearly.

Of course, no trip to Iceland would be complete without photographing the iconic Kirkjufell mountain sometimes called “Church Mountain” or often likened to a wizard’s hat. We enjoyed a beautiful morning here, patiently waiting for warm sunrise light to reach the mountain. The ice formations around the falls were stunning and very different from the conditions I had experienced here on my previous visit.

Next up was my favourite waterfall in Iceland that I have visited to date: the striking turquoise cascades of Brúarfoss. This time the scene was beautifully framed with ice along the riverbanks. The vivid colour of the water comes from glacial meltwater and the way fine sediment particles suspended in the water scatter the light.

Our final destination was the spectacular Snæfellsnes Peninsula. Here we photographed the dramatic Lóndrangar sea stacks and the famous sea arch at Arnarstapi.

The following morning the plan was to visit Reykjavík to capture some photography there before catching the plane home the next day. However, heavy snowfall overnight forced a change of plan. Instead, we made our way directly to our hotel near Keflavík airport to ensure we wouldn’t risk getting stranded and missing our flights home. Lee did a sterling job, driving through some atrocious weather to get us safely to our final hotel.

I was sad to say farewell to Iceland and to the new friends I had made during the trip - but I am sure I will find it hard to resist another visit. What about the Highlands of Iceland, I have heard that they are spectacular?

These are just a small selection of images from the trip. If you would like to see more, please visit my website where I have created a full portfolio from the adventure:

https://markhetherington.com/

My first outing was to Derwentwater, close to home, where I revisited a classic composition, the Centenary Stones, alongside a few less familiar scenes. Stripping away colour allowed me to focus more on form, texture, and mood, rather than waiting for light that simply wasn’t going to arrive.

The second trip took me over the English border to Dumfries and Galloway in Southern Scotland. The forecast promised better conditions, but as so often happens, the weather Apps got it wrong. However, instead of being disappointed like I would have been previously, I embraced the conditions and worked in Monochrome at Southerness Lighthouse and Caerlaverock Castle, using the muted light to emphasise structure and atmosphere.

Closer to home again, I recently photographed Brougham and Penrith Castle, both within walking distance of my house. Predictably, the weather was once more far from ideal, making it another perfect opportunity to continue exploring Monochrome photography.

Whilst I have enjoyed this opportunity to try Monochrome photography I am hopeful that the weather will improve shortly so that I can get back to my more usual Colour Landscape Photography. However, in a weeks time I return to Iceland for ten days which I am really looking forward to - hopefully this will be the subject of a future post upon my return

With the weather recently conspiring against my usual landscape photography, I decided to turn my attention to abstract work on a couple of West Cumbrian beaches. My latest foray took me to Parton Beach, a place I used to pass regularly on my commute to Whitehaven. I’ve photographed there before, including a wonderful patch of wild garlic threaded by a sinuous, snaking path.

Parton itself is a fairly unremarkable small coastal village in Cumbria overlooking the Solway Firth, once a port and mining centre. This time, however, my interest lay firmly on the beach. Having recently explored abstract photography at nearby Fleswick Bay, I was keen to see what Parton might offer. I’ve long admired the work of David Southern, whose abstract studies of the Northumberland coast have been a major inspiration, his book Shoreline is one I’d wholeheartedly recommend to anyone interested in beach or abstract photography.

After a fairly long walk as the tide ebbed away, I was amazed to come across a collection of large, water-worn boulders that seemed full of promise. For the next three hours I slowly scoured the area, and once I settled into the process and really got my eye in, wonderful shapes and textures began to reveal themselves.

I was delighted with the range of subjects I found, but what pleased me most was the realisation that before I took up photography, I would almost certainly have walked straight past these small scenes without ever really seeing them. Photography has taught me to slow down and notice more of the beauty that quietly surrounds us.

For those interested in the technical details, all of the images were taken with a Sony A7 IV and a Sony 24–70mm lens, using a tripod. Each image is a focus stack of around ten frames to ensure sharpness throughout.

You can see more of my photography at:

https://markhetherington.com/

On the day of my visit, the weather apps were indicating much better conditions on the West Cumbrian coast, making it an ideal opportunity to finally explore the bay. Access is fairly straightforward, with a pleasant 30 minute stroll along the coast path from Tarnflatt Hall Farm. Once down on the beach, it was immediately obvious that there was plenty of potential for interesting abstract images, with an abundance of eroded rocks, patterns and textures.

However, at heart I’m a landscape photographer, and as the sun started to rise over the headland behind me I could also see the potential for a long-exposure image of the incoming tide flowing over the sandstone rocks. I set up and waited for the light to hit the cliffs, and with a 30 second exposure the result was a pleasing coastal image with silky water around the sandstone rocks.

I then shifted my focus entirely to abstracts. This required a deliberate slowing down and a change in how I was seeing the landscape, moving away from grand compositions and instead responding to smaller, more subtle interactions between line, curve, texture and tone. Progress was slow at first, but as my eye adjusted, patterns began to reveal themselves. By carefully isolating sections of rock and paying close attention to how the light caught their surfaces, I was able to find a series of compositions built around flowing curves created by the ocean waves and weathered textures.

Could this place be West Cumbria’s answer to Spittal Beach on the Northumberland coast? I’d love to know what you think.

I’ve always loved the landscape and the 360-degree views from Wren Crag and High Rigg, perched high above Thirlmere in St John’s in the Vale in the Lake District. This ridge offers magnificent views towards Skiddaw and Blencathra, and I felt that a snow-covered Blencathra would really elevate the scene. I don’t know what it is about snow on a mountain, but it seems to transform it, making it far more appealing to my eye.

Recently, we had a dump of snow in the Lakes, and knowing that it rarely lingers for long, I was determined to capture an image from this area. I already had a composition in mind, centred around some rocks I discovered back in August 2025 while photographing the blooming heather on Wren Crag. With that in mind, I paid a visit and hoped the weather gods would be kind.

On my first visit, the light didn’t really materialise. I captured an image anyway, which was fine, but I knew I could do better.

The following day, the forecast looked more promising, so I returned to the same location later in the day as the sun was setting. This time, I was pleased to finally get the light I had been hoping for and I also found a much stronger composition by getting lower and using the rocks as a leading line towards Blencathra.

The takeaway from this experience is simple: keep trying and don’t give up too easily on a plan. By revisiting a location until the conditions align with your vision, the final result becomes far more rewarding, and far more memorable.

Blea Tarn is a popular haunt of many landscape photographer’s including, over recent years, myself. Since I started photography in 2020, I have visited Blea Tarn many times, and it is one of my favourite locations in the whole of the Lake District. The tarn is a place where I go to for tranquillity and peace, and now I only ever go there very early for sunrise or very late for the incredible dark skies. I have a very strong sense of belonging to Blea Tarn which I think is connected to the iconic view of the rugged Langdale Pikes, which brings back many memories of hiking the Pikes when I was a youngster with my late father, and later, fabulous days rock-climbing on Gimmer Crag which is on Loft Crag and Pavey Ark.

For me, as a photographer Blea Tarn is all about reflections of the Langdale Pikes in the water, so I only tend to visit when the forecast is for very light winds. I have visited Blea Tarn for photography in all seasons of the year but a recent visit, provided one of my best mornings of photography.

Following a bleary-eyed 02.45 alarm, I set off for the selected location of Blea Tarn in Langdale. I almost stopped at Elterwater as the mist was hanging in the valley bottom there as it often does, but I continued in the hope that there might be mist at Blea Tarn, which would be a first for me. I parked my car in anticipation and wondered what the photography conditions would be like at the tarn. As I started walking down the path to Blea Tarn, I was excitedly jolted by the sight of mist on the surface of the tarn, but will it last I thought? Not wanting to miss this opportunity, I started running down the path, and I was soon on the Southern edge of the tarn, and amazingly, the mist was still there, but where was everybody else? Surely, I could not have the place to myself on such a morning. Eventually, I was joined by three other photographers, one of them my good friend Jonny Gios. What followed was one of my best mornings of photography to date. The mist kept coming and going, and as the sun rose and kissed the Langdale Pikes, we were given incredible photographic opportunities with almost perfect reflections, calm water, atmospheric mist on the water surface and the tranquillity was only broken by the beautiful sound of a very vocal cuckoo.

Blea Tarn is also a fantastic location for Astro photography as it is very dark with no light pollution. I photographed the Aurora there in September 2024.