Ancient Tracks.
Photo left: Long-time friends on their way to the Amble Market, every Sunday along the harbour the traditional market takes place. It’s very much a locals scene with many vendors having traded here for many years. A good turn out of people suggests that despite recent gentrification of the area this hasn’t displaced the longstanding Sunday Market.
Chasing Tracks.
England.
Photos & text by Lewis Jackson.
Tracks, paths and roads persuade and guide us, providing us with the most passable route to a destination. They bring a sense of human presence and direction to the chaotic natural order. We mostly find ourselves wandering the tracks where others have been; following its direction and taking its lead. Encouraged by the horizon ahead, we seek the end, the accomplishment or simply the place we need to be. We must have a reason or purpose to stray off the beaten tracks and explore the untrodden. Some tracks we will only ever walk once whilst others we can revisit. Every time we retrace our steps we do so with an increased awareness of our past. Who has gone before us and what lies ahead? Man-made routes appear like a physical timeline within the landscape connecting past and present, keeping us on a course, the pull to a destination inevitable.
These photographs follow the River Coquets course through the Northumberland landscape, along footpaths, bridleways and farmland. From the River Coquets' origins near the England and Scotland border to the vastness of the North Sea, we stay connected to its presence as it weaves its way through the open landscape without straying in curiosity. The river remains always on a course, it is a living system, uncontrollable, as ancient as the tidal, gradients, and wind forces that pull it into the Sea.
The tracks and pathways that run almost parallel to the river itself are visual impressions of people who have walked these riverbanks. They can still guide us, as they pass by the villages, towns and people connected to this landscape. Each person is on their journey and at different stages of the tracks and pathways of life itself, and in some way have influenced or been influenced by this part of the world.
Having grown up here myself, I feel a connection to this landscape, with a camera I attempt to capture the soul and spirit of people and places that have shaped the pathways of my existence. As I walk these tracks the urge to take a wanderlust route off the well-trodden paths is short-lived. The guidance of the route ahead keeps me on course, pins my eyes to the path ahead, staring directly in the face of fate and accepting where it leads.
The tracks eventually come to an end, as they lead us to the infinite horizon of the expanse of the North Sea. The sounds of the river and the sea will always be heard out here, nature will always state its presence long after we have gone. Until that day, we all chase the same tracks.
Photo left: Searching in rock pools.
Rock pools on land, the origins of life itself are subjects of intrigue none more so than young inquisitive minds whose imagination and zest for discovery can spends hours searching and finding against the backdrop of the infinite sea horizon.
Photo left and below: Bicycle Metamorphosis.
The bicycle; a powerful symbol of hope and progress appears to be ditched by the riverside. A few stray branches protrude from the front as if to be frozen in a metamorphosised state. The bicycle being reclaimed by nature, perhaps this was a child’s first bike? An object that gave them their first taste of new ways to explore and experience the world? A new lease of mobility and freedom?
Into the Estuary the River Coquet meets the salt water of the North Sea, it passes through the port of Amble. The low tide exposes the sea bed, like a slate wiped clean, for a period of time the natural impression of the land is revealed. Luxurious apartments rise up from the sea floor sediment and appear like a human colony on an extra terrestrial planet. These buildings make up a large part of the recent regeneration of the area that overlook the harbour.
Photo left and below: Charlie was a local farmer, who farmed the land surrounding my home village of Felton with his brother Sammy, they lived together until Charlie passed away. Charlie was always tending to farming duties, you got the sense that this was Charlie’s way of living as apposed to means to an end. He was generally an illusive character, but would routinely finish his day by quietly appearing at the bar just before the last orders for his neat double whisky. Charlie was always a character. River bank memorial.
The angel wings placed delicately on the bare winter branches, its silent presence commemorates the memory of somebody connected to the area. A reminder of the transitory paths we all walk.
Photo left: Crossing Paths.
Eventually the paths, like the river itself, come to and end. The fresh water from the river and streams mixes with the salt water from the ocean. The tracks lead to the shoreline we have left the agricultural landscape and woodland behind. We are now faced with the boundless, untameable sea. There is no pathway or track that can ever lead us through this unfathomable expanse.
Thanks for reading.
You can find more examples of the documentary photography, journalism and articles by Lewis Jackson here, New Homes.