Salcombe at low tide
Is there a moment in your career that illustrates how committed you are to your job?
I can think of stories from all my friends that show them going above and beyond for their career: working late into the night, going into work on weekends to run rehearsals for the school play, freezing in archives without heating while searching for that illusive piece of research, working in hospitals during the pandemic.
If you love what you do, believe in it, are passionate about it, then you are likely to have numerous moments that you could choose from.
I had such a moment on Tuesday.
I’d gone to Salcombe in Devon to film and photograph the seagrass that grows in the estuary. It is accessible from the foreshore at low tide, which meant I could walk to it. The forecast was for sunshine and despite the winter brown on some of the leaves the seagrass looked gorgeous.
The issue with filming somewhere tidal is that there is a lot of movement caused by the water. On Monday at low tide the water was clear enough despite this and the seagrass revealed by the tide shone wonderfully.
On Tuesday however the wind was up. Wind increases the waters movement and so more sand and silt get churned up, particularly in the shallows. This meant that visibility was terrible.
At first, with the tide still retreating, I was able to film in the shelter of the large rock pool. The seagrass there is living happily alongside some wonderful seaweeds. With reflections on the surface of the low water the footage looked incredible.
But it wasn’t enough.
Standing on the foreshore I could tell that beyond the continuous movement in the shallow’s visibility improved, perhaps enough that I would be able to get footage. But it was beyond the reach of my rolled-up jeans.
I believe in this project. I believe in the importance of sharing seagrass, I believe in the power of the aquarium and its ability to reach people.
I want to my job well. I want to make a piece of art worthy of this wonderful plant.
I couldn’t film the seagrass in the shallows, I couldn’t even see it.
I had to get deeper.
The sea in March is very, very cold. It’s about as cold as it gets after months of winter.
I waded out waist deep to place the cameras among the seagrass.
Then I stood in my swimming costume and towel letting the cameras role, slowly getting warm, all the while knowing that I would have to go back out to fetch the camera’s.
This was one of those moments that illustrates how much I love my job.
As I watched the footage back later in the week a gorgeous fish swam across the screen and my cold feet felt entirely worth it.
Plus, if anyone ever asks how much I put into my work, I have a good story to illustrate the answer.
Everything, I put everything I have into my work.
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