Harper-Thames on riverside patience, persistence, and one very determined man in a wetsuit
There’s a stretch of the South Bank I’ve been trying to photograph properly for weeks, waiting specifically for that golden hour light that turns the whole river faintly orange for about twenty minutes if you’re lucky and considerably less if the clouds have other plans. This week I finally got the light right. I did not, however, get the shot right, because a man on a paddleboard decided my exact frame was his exact route, three separate times.
The First Attempt
Light was perfect, composition was perfect, and then a paddleboarder drifted directly through the centre of the frame at the precise moment I pressed the shutter, turning what would have been a lovely empty river shot into a photo of a stranger’s knees.
The Second Attempt
I waited. I repositioned slightly. I watched the light shift ever so slightly toward the orange I actually wanted. And then the same paddleboarder, having apparently turned around at some point downstream, drifted directly back through the same section of river at the same unfortunate moment.
The Third Attempt
At this point I began to suspect he was doing it on purpose, though I have no actual evidence for this beyond wounded pride and a deep sense of riverside injustice building steadily with every pass. Third pass, same spot, same result. I gave up chasing the perfect empty frame and just photographed him instead.
The Photo I Actually Got
Genuinely rather nice, as it turns out. The light caught his paddle mid-stroke, water dripping in a way that looked properly cinematic rather than accidental, and I’ve come round to thinking the river simply had better ideas than mine that evening.
What This Taught Me About Riverside Photography
Plan for the shot you want, but stay open to the shot the river actually gives you, because more often than not the accident turns out better than the plan, however annoyed you are about it in the actual moment it’s happening.