Maltese Invade Cornwall - Joe Smith

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A bleary-eyed Team Malta totters down for an early breakfast. There are obvious signs that, following the euphoria from the previous evening's Awards Dinner, partying had gone on deep into the wee hours. Well, who can blame us on this one? Eight major awards between four photographers is not a bad haul, more so when one considers that the Overseas categories were done away with this time round.

So there we were, tackling our eggs, bacon and sausages in slow motion and trying to think with a clear mind of the adventure that lay ahead of us.

You see, Ruben had it all planned out. After checkout, we were to pick up a hired car from Heathrow, drive for four hours down to Cornwall and spend three days in a cottage, perched on a cliff in a place called Portwrinkle. Of course, loads of photography along the south coast was also part of the itinerary.

A short taxi ride to Heathrow’s car-hire terminal later we discovered that the hired five-seater had space for all of us, but not the luggage. We decided to upgrade, but Ruben wasn’t amused when we were presented with a comfortable, automatic seven-seater with ample space for all of our stuff, and us. You see, Ruben had volunteered to be our driver as he professed to be experienced in driving overseas and also because of his 'great sense of direction'. Being a car buff, he was mumbling something about how an automatic gearbox kills the joys and thrills of driving. The rest of us looked at each other with some trepidation, but after a few jolts, stomach-wrenching decelerations and handbrake turns, Ruben got the car smoothly out of the parking lot and took a southerly direction.

Sitting in the front passenger seat was the techie amongst us and we were barely a couple of hundred metres out of the parking lot when Ramon pulled out his portable GPS gadget and keyed in our final destination. Again, Ruben insisted that there was no need for this as his orientation skills were second to none, and secondly this gadget also took the fun out of driving along the narrow country roads. For the three of us sitting at the back, it became somewhat amusing at times seeing the two at the front arguing. After a couple of wrong turns we were on Ramon’s side and there were moments when the whole situation was verging on mutiny!

Four-and-a-half hours later all this was behind as we drove out of Plymouth and followed the signs to Portwrinkle. It was already late afternoon, the light was failing but we could easily appreciate the beauty of this wild part of England. The excitement of the photographic hunt welled up inside us and we were raring to go come morning.

It was dark, windy and drizzling when we arrived at the cottage. The fresh, salty gusts from the Atlantic crashing on the beach below hit us squarely in the face as we got out of the car. We just hoped that the following day would be in accord with what the weatherman had predicted – cloudy with short, sunny spells.

At this point we were famished and, after dropping our gear down in the spacious, warm and welcoming cottage, we drove off in search of somewhere to eat. We didn’t have to go far. A couple of miles and we were in Downderry, devouring delicious nosh in the charming restaurant, The Inn on the Shore.

After a good night’s sleep, yours truly was the first up and prepared breakfast for the rest of the gang. The day looked promising. Dark clouds, with the occasional break. Perfect for some moody landscape shots.

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