It’s that peculiar time between Christmas and New Year’s, where the days blur together, breakfast consists of leftover chocolates, and everyone feels a bit lost. Amid the indulgence, I decided it was time to break the cycle and head out for one last photo shoot of 2024. Conscious of the extra calories I’ve consumed, I opted to take my trusty Mamiya RB67—a beast of a medium-format film camera. Paired with the Manfrotto 190 XProB tripod and a Manfrotto geared head, the whole setup weighs in at just under 13 lbs (5.8 kg). Lugging this beauty around is as much a workout as it is a creative endeavor.
From my home, I could see the South Downs draped in a thick blanket of fog, and I knew that was where I needed to be. Fog always brings a mysterious, atmospheric quality to photographs, and I couldn’t resist the opportunity to capture it.
For this outing, I loaded the Mamiya with Fomapan 100, which I planned to push to ISO 400. My plan was to stand develop the film in Ilford DD-X for 45 minutes—a method that has served me well in the past for pulling out extra contrast and detail.
The area of the South Downs I headed to was familiar territory. It was the same spot I’d visited during a storm last time I was out, armed with my Mia 6x12 pinhole camera. That trip had been memorable not only for the wild weather but for a particular tree I’d discovered—a rugged sentinel of the downs that I was eager to revisit and recapture.
My first subject a rough, scraggly bush of a tree clinging to the edge of the landscape. At first glance, it might seem unremarkable, even ugly, but there’s a striking, weathered beauty in its resilience. It’s a tree that’s endured the worst the elements have thrown at it, standing firm against the wind and storms. To me, it embodies the quiet strength of the downs, and I couldn’t resist photographing it again.
First capture: A distant view of the resilient tree with the Mamiya-Sekor C 180mm lens.
Second shot and the keeper: A closer perspective of the resilient tree with the Mamiya-Sekor C 90mm lens, also framing the distant gate emerging softly through the thick fog.
Continuing down to my chosen spot, I stopped to capture another familiar tree—one that has caught my attention countless times. I find it always worth revisiting, each time with a different camera or in different weather, hoping to uncover a new layer of its unique beauty.
Continuing on my journey, I passed through another familiar spot—a gate I’ve photographed many times before, usually framed by a magnificent view beyond. This time, there was nothing but an eerie, enveloping fog.
The gate: Captured with the Mamiya-Sekor C 90mm lens and the usual view disappeared in a wall of fog
Then switching to the Mamiya Sekor C 50mm.
Last time I found this tree, I was on the other side of the fence, having to clamber over barbed wire. This time, I took the gate and followed the short path leading to it. First, I launched my drone, hoping to capture a nice shot for
my YouTube channel. The flight started well, but it turns out the small DJI Neo isn’t fond of fog—it kept triggering warnings, struggling with the fog's effect on its downward sensors. At one point, it almost flew off on its own, and I had a real battle getting it back. After a tense moment, I managed to land it safely, packed it away, and continued my journey.
The drone image revealing the tree.
With my RB67 and Mamiya-Sekor C 90mm lens, one of the shots captures the tree slowly being revealed through the thick fog on the slopes of the South Downs.
Heading up behind the tree, I barely managed to squeeze myself against the fence, just fitting the entire scene into my viewfinder with the Mamiya-Sekor C 50mm lens.
While pressed against the fence, I was momentarily distracted as the tree faded into the fog. I couldn’t resist capturing a quick couple of photos, this one with my Mamiya-Sekor C 50mm lens.
Then another shot with the Mamiya-Sekor C 90mm lens, which for me is the keeper of the two.
One last image of the tree, this time from the other side. My favorite of the lot, standing proud and bold on the slopes of the South Downs, while everything else is engulfed in fog.
Heading back, I decided to take a small detour over the top, hoping to find a tree I had photograph a few years ago. I remembered it as a lone tree, standing in the middle of nowhere, and thought it would make a striking photograph. However, the thick fog made it nearly impossible to spot.
I eventually settled on this tree. It may not have been the one I remembered, but it stood as a pair with another nearby. From my memory, it wasn’t originally here, but out of the two, I preferred this one. Its wind-swept branches spoke of a lifetime shaped by constant, harsh weather, giving it a unique beauty.
Slowly heading back to the car, I captured a couple more shots along the way. Another fence, stretching off into the distance, caught my eye. There’s something weirdly beautiful about the way it disappears into the fog—perhaps it’s the sense of mystery it evokes, as if the path leads to an unknown, hidden world. The fog blurs the line between reality and imagination, making something as simple as a fence seem like a portal to something more.
Then there were the tire marks left by the farmer’s tractor, following the path over the top. There’s a strange beauty in how they vanish into the foggy distance, as if the journey itself is lost in the mist.
Both shots were captured using the Mamiya-Sekor C 90mm lens.
For my last shot, I ended up at the very tree I started with—the rustic, worn, and slightly ugly, yet resilient tree. This time, it caught my eye from a different angle, standing proud on the edge, while some of the trees below, lower on the slopes, vanishing into the fog.
With some of these photos, I experimented with multiple exposures, overexposing and underexposing. My initial idea was that in foggy weather, slightly underexposing would help retain detail in the highlights while creating more of a silhouette of the trees. However, I found that I preferred slightly overexposing the shots, as it revealed more detail in the shadows. While this did result in a bit more loss in the fog and the whiteness of the image, I felt these exposures worked better for me, capturing the atmosphere more fully.
As I wrapped up my journey and made my way back, I'm grateful for the quiet moments spent in the fog, with my vintage gear and the beauty unfolding in front of me. Photography, especially with film, has a way of making you slow down, observe, and appreciate the details often overlooked. It’s a perfect way to end the year—capturing fleeting moments, experimenting with light and shadow, and finding beauty in the unexpected. And let’s be honest, carrying that Mamiya RB67 around probably helped burn a few extra calories, which definitely made up for all those leftover chocolates from Christmas. Here’s to more adventures in 2025, more film rolls, and more photographic adventures.
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