I'd been out for the day, driving around in the car and looking for photo opportunities, when I received an invitation to join a friend who was shore fishing in Schull Harbour. The day's showery weather was being guided by a brisk northerly wind, and after a couple of hours of dodging and sheltering from driving rain and hail, and failing to capture any satisfactory photographs, the chance for a chin-wag and some banter seemed like a welcome relief. The footpath leading to where my friend was fishing passed alongside a burial ground and the ruin of St. Mary’s Church.
There’s an enormous sense of time and history here. At the time I arrived, the sun was shining low in the west, illuminating the church and its surroundings. It had just stopped raining, and everything was glistening. As I walked to where my friend was, I took a few pictures, though they weren't much to write home about. It was a great example of how sometimes it's better to simply look and enjoy something beautiful without feeling the need to do something with it.
I eventually found where my friend was fishing, and we spent some time catching up and sharing news. Before long, a dark line began to appear along the northern horizon, and the lack of fish gave us a good reason to stop and pack up. The rapidly approaching rainstorm started to swallow up the sunlight, and the first bullet-sized raindrops began to fall as we walked back up the path.
By this time, the sun was still just shining, and as we turned north toward where the cars were parked, I saw a rainbow forming. Veils of heavy rain falling to the northeast were being lit up by the sun. I had just enough time to set up the camera and take a photograph before everything closed in and all hell broke loose with the weather. A quick sprint to the car ensured that my gear didn’t suffer any water damage.
While working on the image in the comfort of my home, I was reminded of a book I read many years ago during my college days, The Making of 40 Photographs by Ansel Adams. In his description of how he made his Moonrise Over Hernandez picture, he speaks of having to move quickly to ensure the crosses in a burial ground were lit by the dying light of a rapidly descending sun. Without making any claim of equivalence to his masterpiece, it was the same for me—except my eyes were on the fast-approaching rain shower, a rainbow, and a camera that I didn’t want to get wet.