4am and huge tepid raindrops pummelled him awake, eyelids cracked with the thunder and let thick sepia light stream in.
The shower passed and he clambered over slippery slick granite to the shoreline where the soupy Baltic licked bowling ball rocks. The smell of seaweed and wet earth brought a smile as bemused Terns skipped the wind and screamed, a deliberate tripod was set low and viewfinder framed a balance, dark knuckles of land and a horizon.
He savoured half an hour of thick unsettled atmosphere, rich with the promise of rain as clouds all bulbous and shirt tails were barged westward by a hasty wind.
The light danced and he chose his moment, squeezed the shutter and stole the scene, smiled and turned for home as wide spaced drops began to fall once again.