The Fantastic Four go to The Steam Gathering
On Saturday 6th August, with weather looking ok, Lord Brancepeth, Mr Bell, Monsieur Blot and myself visited the Annual Steam Gathering at Pickering. We departed from Chez Griffiths at some ungodly hour (I thought weekends were invented for lie ins?) and speedily made our way down to find a suitable hostelry for coffee and breakfast. The sharp-eyed Mr Bell quickly spotted that it made financial sense to, indeed, order the ‘full Monty’ and promptly ordered four, along with various additions/omissions that easily confused the poor waitress! Said breakfasts arrived that bore no resemblance to the ‘individual’ orders but were nevertheless enjoyed and demolished. Next, find the parking field and onto the event. Ever the optimist I still felt the weather would hold out…
Suitably attired with brollies in tow (apart from one idiot…and I had two in the car, but did put the wellies on!), checked various photographic apparatus and with a spring in our step we crossed over the portable (by a big, big truck) aluminium bridge and into the field housing the event. And the weather held out.
Lord Griffiths and Mr Bell had experience of the gathering, Monsieur Bolt and I did not know what to expect and what I hadn’t reckoned on was the sheer size of it, it was massive! There was a field with stalls and vendors selling everything from what looked like something you’d throw in the trash (à la car boot) to antique furniture, a field with a travelling fair and rides, a field full of vintage (and not so vintage) vehicles and then the main field holding the steam machines, the food tents and the display itself.
It didn’t take long for that photographic apparatus to start earning its keep and we nervously kept an eye on each other to see if anyone had spotted that ‘killer’ shot we hadn’t thought of! From close ups of plastic trays with bric-a-brac (we still need to see that picture, Lilian) to portraits and candids, there were so many shooting opportunities. And the weather held out.
The field housing the steam tractors and traction engines was impressive. People lovingly cleaning and polishing the brass work, tweaking and feeding the various cogs and machinery ready to show their pride and beauty in the arena. The steam extracted from these monsters of industry held in the air like early morning mist to give a surreal effect that hadn’t gone unnoticed by the intrepid photographers. Conversations were struck up with owners, who lovingly described their ‘babies’ with age, pedigree etc etc, all with the aim of getting that ‘killer’ shot. And then the rain started.
Not heavily you understand. Just enough to get people to don waterproofs and erect brollies (mine in the car). The sky darkened and along with the steady drizzle of rain and the ever release of steam, the surreal look of the event heightened - more photographic opportunities. Watching the people, it looked like it hadn’t dampened their enthusiasm. Everyone was still looking at engines, eating, drinking and generally enjoying themselves- including us - with a few starting to shelter under the large canvas tents. And then it started raining…heavily.
Very heavily - and I’m talking the proverbial ‘cats and dogs’, ‘stotting’, ‘p*****g down’ type of rain. Indeed them heavens did open, everyone rushing around taking shelter where they could and goods and displays hurriedly being covered up. Did this dampen the four musketeers enthusiasm? Well probably a little but not their shooting ability! Waterproofed kids playing in puddles or looking out from their pram covers, people dashing for cover, umbrellas everywhere and that darkened sky and surreal feel; it was all fair game for us shooters. Lord Brancepeth mastered the ‘one hand brolly, one hand camera’ technique and was taking everything that moved, Monsieur Blot looking for the best ‘square’ shots and Mr Bell, very sporting of him, allowing me to share his umbrella whilst we too joined in the shooting. And then after what seemed like an eternity the rain died down…a little.
We walked onto the field with the fairgrounds and stage for the singers and dancers. We showed no mercy to the wet rides, despondent stall holders and colourful clowns and shot them all, finally arriving to see ‘Elvis’ banging out his last notes…surreal indeed. The can-can dancers had to cut their set short due to the waterlogged stage and so the Dorset Rats came on early to give us some fun takes on popular songs. Hopefully the kids didn’t understand some of the double entendres!
We left after a full day that we had all thoroughly enjoyed, the rain for each of us just added to the atmosphere. I for one though couldn’t help but think that this may be one of the last outings that Monsieur Blot would join us on, before departing for pastures new.
Bonne chance mon ami, il vous sera une grande perte pour le club et sera regretté par tous, revenez bientôt!
Wish I’d brought my brolly…
Ian Stafford
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