Finally Got the Shot I Dreamt Of… and Put Thomas Heaton’s Theory to the Test – You Decide

For years, Pine Island on Derryclare Lough in Connemara has been a location I've returned to repeatedly, each time hoping for the elusive perfect shot. The conditions never aligned, until recently.

I concluded the first evening at Pine Island during a two-day, one-to-one workshop in early May in Connemara. The elements began to align: a nearly full moon, clear skies, and calm waters.

After dropping my client back in Galway, I returned to Pine Island. The moonlight illuminated the landscape, and the water's surface was mirror-like. Using my 16–35mm f/4 lens, I captured the scene, noting the stars' reflections and the serene atmosphere.

I settled in for the night, setting my alarm for 6:00 a.m. At dawn, I was greeted with flat-calm water, mist forming over the lake, and the promise of a captivating sunrise. I said hello to another photographer who had also arrived, but couldn't stay chatting; there was a shot to be captured, and the conditions were exactly what I had been wishing for for years.

There are many places to shoot this stunning location; you can go along the bank of the lake, or you can even elevate yourself. However, there was one particular shot I was set on, so I positioned myself on the stone jetty that leads out to the island, a spot I've attempted to photograph many times. Setting up 35 minutes before sunrise, I observed the intensifying mist and the pre-dawn light's purple hues. I was bubbling with excitement; perhaps after all this time, it would actually happen.

Now, there was one element that was missing from my scene: I had zero clouds, so the fantastic reflections would have nothing to reflect, except of course for the stunning hues of light. It also meant that there was very little chance of clouds blocking the sun, so I had a great chance of capturing something special for sure.

When It All Kicked Off

I had my first shots in the bag, and looking at the back of the camera, I was delighted at what I saw. But I started to wonder what it would look like from the air. So, launching my drone, I captured some incredible aerial views, including a timelapse of the rising sun. Of course, being a photographer, I am never 100% happy; the timelapse had no movements to show, just the intermittent interruptions of the stunning reflections on the water, caused by a very light wind. On the ground, I attempted an 11-shot panorama, covering nearly 270°, to encompass the scene's breadth. A very large pano for sure, and one that would prove tricky to line up in post. Even though I had my camera perfectly level, it did fall off on the far edges, so perhaps it wasn't perfectly level.

It's worth noting here that there are power lines that cross this location. Their positioning couldn't be more annoying from a photographer's point of view, and in fact, when my friend Thomas had visited last year, he dedicated his entire episode to the conundrum of removing or leaving them in. While many remove them in post-processing, I chose to leave them, reflecting the scene's authenticity. Mainly because I felt that if someone visits here for the first time, they will be surprised and possibly disappointed to see them right in the middle of their shot. So, I wanted to show it as it was, and also in this pano shot, it would be even harder to remove as you get the natural bowing of the scene caused by using the wide-angle lens.

As the sun rose, its light filtered through the trees, illuminating the mist and reflections even more. This was all of my dreams come true. I adjusted my aperture to f/16 to capture a sunstar, resulting in a shot with golden light, thick mist, perfect reflections, and the sunstar peaking through the branches of the trees.

One thing I also noted here was that there was quite a lot of damage to the trees from the winter storms. I wonder just how long they have left, and would I be even happier that I now finally had my shot.

Was Thomas Heaton Right?

Recalling that previous visit with Thomas Heaton and Neil Arthurs, where we discussed compositions from the island's far side, I decided to test that perspective under these ideal conditions. On the evening in question, Tom had said it would be a great shot. I remarked that all it needed was flat calm conditions, mist on the water, and some direct light—all of which I had right there in front of me. So, of course, I had to venture over to try and prove him right, or wrong of course. I captured a standard shot and a 3-shot panorama, and to be fair, it was a very nice scene. So, was he right, or wrong? You decide! Is this the best composition from this location? Let me know in the comments below.

The light was getting better and better now, even though the sun was up, the reflections and mist were sticking around, and the distant mountains were catching the light so well. So, I sent the drone up again. What I captured here was nothing short of mesmerising; the symmetry between the shore and mountains, the light, and the overall view were just insane. You can see all this footage in the video, linked below.

This experience reinforced a vital lesson: persistence is key in landscape photography. Conditions may not always be favourable, but continued effort increases the chances of capturing that sought-after shot.

You can see all the images I shot on this memorable morning below over 100, and you will witness the progression of light at this incredable location plus you can watch the full story unfold below also in this week's video on YouTube.

Thanks for reading, let's continue the conversation in the comments below.