Blackrock Sunrise and a Chepstow Celebration

Charston Rock Lighthouse, Severn Estuary. DJI Air2s

It’s not often you get a second chance at the same photograph, but sometimes the light is worth chasing twice. Last weekend, my good friend Paul Joy and I stood on the shores at Blackrock, Sudbrook, waiting for the sunrise that never came - well, actually it did, but we had given up and were driving away when I noticed the sun burning through a gap in the clouds. Whilst we made the most of our atmospheric photographs, we went home that day disappointed..

Blackrock - the engineer statue and an excited, happy Paul.

This Friday however, we returned—armed with drones, tripods, and the optimism only photographers seem to muster before dawn. The air was cool, the tide whispering against the rocks, and above the river there was a glow—a promise. The eastern horizon behind the First Severn Crossing had taken on a soft, burnished orange that deepened by the minute. In that liminal pre-dawn light, the Charston Rock Lighthouse stood proud in the channel, its lantern shining brightly blinking every twenty seconds or so against the awakening sky. I flew my drone and was able to fly where no man could ever get to easily and capture rare views above the dark waters of the estuary near the lighthouse.

I love the pre-dawn light. Charston Lighthouse stands as a sentinel warning ships of the rocks.

A closer view of the lighthouse.

Paul set up for a time-lapse, his camera quietly clicking away as the sun made its entrance. When it finally breached the horizon, it did so with theatrical splendour—gold spilling across the water, the suspension bridge’s cables catching the light like harp strings. The sky shifted through a painter’s palette of pink, red and molten orange.

The light was changing every minute. Sunrise at last. Nikon Z6.

The sun came up behind the first Severn Crossing. Olympus OM-1

Paul and I wooped with happiness and fist bumped each other, we made the only sensible decision—our our reward for getting up at crazy -oclock ( 3.45 am!) and catching a sunrise was a well desreved a celebratory breakfast. 

Chepstow welcomed us with the smell of fresh coffee and Greggs' bacon rolls. Fuelled and content, we drove down to the Old Wye Bridge. Out came the drones once more, rising above the water to capture the graceful curve of the bridge and the solid presence of Chepstow Castle on its rocky perch.

The Old Wye Bridge. and castle, Chepstow 

A shadowy bridge.

Perfect reflections at high tide.

From above, the Wye at high tide created a mirror effect with amazing reflections of the bridge and in the early morning light, the castle walls cast long shadows into the river. It was a different kind of beauty to the dawn at Blackrock, but just as rewarding—the quiet grandeur of history meeting the gentle rhythm of the tide.

Chepstow Castle

Two visits, two very different mornings. One lost to cloud, the other gifted with fire and gold. Sometimes, that’s the joy of returning—it’s not just about getting the shot, but about giving the landscape another chance to surprise you.