"Lost in Winter, Found in One Shot: Reigniting My Passion for Photography"
Losing My Mojo for Photography—Until Derwent Water Brought It Back
Winter in the Lake District is supposed to be a dream for photographers. Frost-dusted landscapes, golden light breaking through misty fells, and lakes so still they turn into perfect mirrors. I used to thrive in it—chasing sunrises, braving the cold, coming home with frozen fingers and memory cards full of magic.
But this year, something was off.
The passion, the excitement—the urge to get out there and create—was gone.
Falling Out of Love with the Camera
At first, I blamed the weather.
It had been weeks of relentless grey, days where the rain fell sideways and the light never really arrived. The kind of winter that drains the soul, where even the most breathtaking locations feel uninspiring. I told myself I was just waiting for better conditions.
But the truth was, even on the rare clear mornings, I still didn’t go out. I’d half-heartedly pick up my camera, scroll through old photos, and feel... nothing. No excitement. No inspiration. Just the heavy weight of creative burnout.
Had I seen it all before? Had the Lakes—this place that had always filled me with wonder—become predictable?
It scared me. Photography had always been the thing that got me out of bed, that made me feel alive. And now? It felt like a chore.
A Short-Lived Morning at Wastwater
The forecast looked promising—clear skies, calm conditions, and a good chance of some nice light. After weeks of dull weather, I was hopeful that Wastwater would deliver something special.
The drive over only built my excitement. Patches of blue sky, soft morning light—it had all the makings of a great outing. But as soon as I arrived, things took a turn.
A Change in Plans
Almost instantly, a thick mist rolled in from nowhere, swallowing the landscape. The mountains disappeared, the reflections faded, and that crisp winter light I’d been chasing was gone. Still, I was here, so I made the most of it.
I took one shot—a simple, moody composition with the mist giving the lake an eerie calm. And then, just as quickly, the fine rain started. Not heavy, but that persistent drizzle that clings to everything. Within minutes, my lens was covered in droplets, my gear was damp, and the conditions weren’t improving.
That was that—no more photography for the day.
A Very Dull Wast Water
Not Every Trip Works Out
I sat in the car for a while, watching the mist thicken, hoping for a break in the weather. It never came. Some days, things just don’t go to plan.
But as I looked at that one image on my camera, I reminded myself—sometimes, all you need is one. Even if it wasn’t the shot I’d hoped for, it still captured the mood of the morning.
Would I have liked more? Of course. But there’s always next time little did i know id have to wait another fortnight for things to change.
A Reluctant Sunrise
One morning in mid-January, after another restless night of questioning whether I even wanted to do this anymore, I forced myself out of bed.
No grand plan, no expectations. Just go.
I drove to Derwent Water, half-hoping for a sudden wave of inspiration, half-expecting to feel nothing at all. The car park was empty. It was that eerie, pre-dawn silence where the world feels like it’s holding its breath.
I made my way down to Ashness Jetty.
The cold hit me first. That deep, biting cold that seeps into your bones, the kind that makes you regret every decision that led you to this moment. My breath curled in the air as I stepped onto the frost-covered planks, my boots crunching softly against the ice.
And then—everything changed.
The Shot That Brought It All Back
The lake was flawless. Not a ripple. Just an endless, perfect reflection of the sky, as if the world had been folded in half.
The colors were unreal—soft purples melting into fiery pinks and oranges as the first rays of sunlight kissed the summit of Skiddaw. The jetty, dusted in frost, glowed in the golden light, leading straight into a scene so perfect it felt like a painting.
My pulse raced.
Without thinking, I raised my camera. Muscle memory kicked in, my fingers adjusting settings before I even had time to process what I was doing. Click. Click. Click. Every shot better than the last.
I checked the screen, and there it was.
The shot I had been waiting for.
That one image that makes you feel something deep in your gut—the kind that reminds you why you fell in love with photography in the first place.
And just like that, I was back.
View from Ashness Jetty
Rediscovering the Spark
That one sunrise changed everything.
It wasn’t just about getting a great shot. It was about feeling something again. The excitement. The connection. The sheer joy of seeing something incredible unfold in front of me and knowing I had the power to capture it.
Sometimes, we lose our creative spark not because the world is uninspiring, but because we stop looking properly. We get caught up in the idea that every outing has to result in something extraordinary, and when it doesn’t, we let disappointment settle in.
But the magic is always there, waiting. You just have to show up.
Now? I’m setting alarms again. The hunger is back. Because if Derwent Water can do that on a freezing January morning, who knows what’s waiting out there tomorrow?
So Here’s What I’ve Learnt And Why You Should Always Go Out.
Losing your mojo for photography can be frustrating. When every outing feels uninspired and the weather never seems to cooperate, it’s easy to stay home and wait for better conditions. But the truth is, creativity isn’t just about getting the perfect shot—it’s about showing up.
Even when the mist rolls in, the rain starts falling, or the light never appears, there’s always something to gain. Sometimes, it’s just the fresh air, the quiet moments, or the way a scene makes you feel—even if it doesn’t translate into an image. Other times, you might take just one shot, and that’s enough to reignite the spark.
Photography isn’t just about results—it’s about the process, the experience, and the unexpected moments that remind you why you love it in the first place. So even when the forecast is uncertain and motivation is low, go out anyway. You never know when that moment will come—the one that brings your passion back to life.