Is it a CV? Is it a blog? Is it a life?

I'm glad to be here. I feel that we come here not just to find delight in life as we can, but to know the true ache of loving - and I feel this for the world itself, our physical and social home that’s both eternal and temporal.

Born in the Lune Valley, NW England in 1946 - at my dad's first sight of me he asked my mother if it was a little monkey - this picture proves his point?
as an infant
Here I must be 9 or 10, and keen on cars - I suppose that I liked their expression of power, but connectedly their shapes, sounds, and smells (Castrol R!) - as at this hill climb in Cumbria. But I enjoyed the fields, woods and hills too, & would wander for miles, exploring.
about 9? at Barbon hill climb
In the 1950's we had some family holidays at the Cleethorpes, Pwllheli & Ayr Butlins camps. Aged between 8 and 13, I usually managed to fall in unrequited 'love' with one of the female redcoats (usually a blonde), and often with our dining hall waitress (usually a brunette) aswell.
at butlins
If you're guessing from the uniforms below that an educational establishment is represented, you're right - it was the local country grammar, Queen Elizabeth School (QES), Kirkby Lonsdale. The system didn't fit me very well, though, and I started to slip sideways ...
last year at school
Not having been drawn to any career path, there was a wandering in the byways, so to speak, but I did take certain core values from my upbringing with me. Musically, the Beatles segued into Cream, Dylan, Van Morrison .. After going fruit picking one summer, I joined the staff of a fruit & hop farm in Kent, living in a tied cottage - & started to teach myself woodwork with a few hand tools - my only workbench the kitchen floor ..
trying to be me

But I yearned to be in hill country, & was drawn back to the west and north, especially where the rock meets the sea (its inseparable counterpoint in geological history). The fickleness of Atlantic weather and light there interweave with the hardships & joys of life.
on the hill
I started to photograph more and to try to describe how it felt to be out in the hills. Perhaps not a photographer's photographer or a writer's writer, yet what I do is personal and refers to how I feel, & does seem to communicate to some people.

Did my surname come from the Northumberland Whitfield on this signpost, south of Hadrian's wall - is part of my genetic inheritance here?
the road to Whitfield
I tried a little cycling (below - Isle of Wight, 2002) but despite what to my mind were valiant attempts, I'd still rather walk 25 miles on mountains than bike 5 miles along a valley. Cycling friends hint that my practice wasn't determined enough.
with bike on the IOW
I try to do things well - that's not about pride, but about honesty & being accountable. To whom? - you decide. Below, I'm aiming an Estwing hammer at a nail, helping to build a wood-framed house in Suffolk. I also made their kitchen. The house, Pinetrees, is now a B&B friendly to walkers & cyclists.
wielding an Estwing hammer
Two days in summer 2006 camping & walking on the Pembrokeshire Coast Path between Fishguard & St Davids. An onshore wind blew throughout; we looked down on seals in rocky coves, noticed the distant shuttle of the Irish ferry, and discovered harbour villages & abandoned coastal quarries.
walking the coast, Pembrokeshire
So, just a glimpse of a mortal life - the older I become, the more of a perspective on it I get. I haven't flaunted the nitty gritty of it much here. Maybe that's a job for an incisive biographer (as if I deserve one!).