Pregnancy and filming my showreel
I was 3 months pregnant when I decided that I should capture some new footage and photography for my new speaker showreel. At 4 months pregnant I felt like there was plenty of time to head up into the mountains before it became unrealistic, but with a busy schedule of speaking engagements and a toddler to look after the rest of the time, it was proving more tricky than I had first thought. I really needed to get the right weather, the right light, on a day when the filming team were available, when my son could be with someone else and, therefore, probably when my husband wasn’t working away. I used to be able to head into the hills whenever the mood and the weather suited. It’s funny how your world changes. This was suddenly a pretty complex task.
I scanned my diary for some some potential filming days. I really wanted a dawn start, preferably a temperature inversion, and obviously a relatively clear day. I knew very well that in addition to scheduling a day around work and family commitments it was the weather that would always dictate the actual timing and feasibility. It was February 2020, and storm after storm was hitting the UK with flooding and angry weather warnings almost every week. I just had to watch and wait.
The plan was to head into the Brecon Beacons, just an hour from my home in Cardiff. I was excited, I can’t help it, I still get this immense surge of energy, an almost childlike hyperactivity about planning the dawn ascent of any mountain.
My earliest memory of this dawn excitement was climbing my first alpine peak near Adelboden in Switzerland during a visit as a Girl Guide. It was magical to watch the sun appear above the peaks and listen to the Swiss cow bells tinkling in the valleys. More recently, I set an early alarm to scale a few peaks in the southern Alps of New Zealand and be back in time for brunch with my family. I was buzzing for days afterwards.
Adelboden, Switzerland with 4th Haverfordwest Girl Guides
Tori’s dawn excitement, Southern Alps, New Zealand
Southern Alps, New Zealand
It is of course the month of May that I always take a little more time than usual to reflect on my dawn ascent of Mount Everest (I reached the summit at 0730 on 24th May 2007) . It’s very strange to think that there is no-one climbing from Everest’s south side this year due to Coronavirus and the closure of the mountain by Nepalese authorities. I can sense the disappointment being felt by climbers who had set their sights on the peak this year. And I frequently think about the health and the livelihoods of local Nepalese porters and Sherpa who will be affected by the closure and the pandemic.
Back at a lower altitude, attempting to plan my Welsh dawn ascent, every mountain weather forecast made me question whether I would ever find suitable conditions for filming. But then at the start of February there was a small window of opportunity, probably only 12 hours in total. I sent a message to the team, Chris, Luke, Paul & Ian to suggest a 6am meet up. This in fact meant a 4am wake up for most of us and I was extremely grateful when they agreed, even if their own levels of excitement didn’t quite match mine.
The temperatures were below freezing, but everyone seemed in good spirits as we met in the car park. There wasn’t a breath of wind and I had my fingers crossed for a temperature inversion. This is where you can see mist and fog trapped in the valleys beneath you but the views from the summits are clear. They are dependent on very specific set of meteorological factors.
Our head torches lit the path ahead of us for the first hour or so as we made our way along a rocky vehicle access track. There was no-one else around, just some cattle and a few wild horses. As we climbed up onto the ridge lines with the sun about to break out we were able to see the mist and fog in the valleys below us, covering the town of Brecon and beyond.
It was spectacular, not only did we get the temperature inversion, we saw the mist rolling off the dramatic ridge lines in the Brecon Beacons and we witnessed the most incredible Brocken Spectre. This phenomenon, seen in the photo below, occurs when a low sun casts a shadow of you onto mist which is slightly below you. It can appear enormous and is typically surrounded by a rainbow coloured ring of refracted light. It gets its name from the German mountain on which it was first noted.
Brocken spectre, Brecon Beacons
Photo Credit: Magenta Photography
Photo Credit: Magenta Photography
Photo Credit: Magenta Photography
It was my first experience of a Brocken Spectre, I was in awe. It certainly features in my ‘it took my breath away’ mountain moments. Feeling so exhilarated, I had to keep reminding myself that I was 5 months pregnant and stood on a summit in sub zero temperatures!
I get into the hills less often at the moment. It might be something to do with the fact I have a toddler and my second baby is due in just a few weeks time. But with a bit of detailed planning, as well as a few friends who are up for a cold and early start (I happen to know lots of these), the times that I do get into the mountains are even sweeter. The magic of mountains at dawn is still a heart warming thrill. If you haven’t experienced that yet, make a plan and go and see for yourselves. After lockdown.
Check out the finished showreel produced by Magenta Photography.
A big thanks to Chris, Luke and Paul who braved the finger-numbing, battery-sapping conditions to capture the morning and to my Beeline Britain team mate Ian O’Grady for joining me. Hopefully you enjoyed the hot chocolate and have been converted to hot squash for filming on cold days!