2025 was a year of working closer to home and learning to respond to conditions rather than chase them. From misty dawns on the South Downs to woodland waterfalls in the High Weald and long exposures on Romney Marsh, this review brings together one standout image from each month — moments that best reflect how and where I photographed across the year.
Continue reading Landscape Photography Review 2025December 2025 was dominated by wet, cold and overcast weather across East Sussex, which quietly shaped the direction of my photography. With wider landscapes often flat and uninviting, the focus naturally shifted into woodland, following streams and revisiting places that only reveal themselves after prolonged rainfall. The result was a month spent exploring seasonal waterfalls across the High Weald, interspersed with a handful of coastal and observational shoots.
This post brings together those December walks and discoveries, from hidden ghylls and temporary cascades to a final New Year’s Eve sunset at Beachy Head.
Continue reading December 2025: Sussex Photography Monthly ReviewAshdown Forest is not known for permanent waterfalls, but after prolonged rain the landscape briefly transforms. Beneath the open heathland plateau, sandstone ledges and clay layers shed water quickly, feeding short-lived streams that cut into wooded ravines and momentarily bring hidden waterfalls to life. Miss the timing and these features disappear again, leaving little trace beyond damp rock and leaf-stained pools.
This walk followed one such stream after heavy December rainfall, linking three very different waterfalls: the hidden plunge of Mungo’s, the stepped Garden of Eden fall beside a footpath, and an unnamed woodland drop further downstream. Each only flows properly for a short window after rain, making timing far more important than season or popularity.
The short video below captures all three waterfalls in motion, followed by mapped references for context. The sections that follow look at each waterfall in turn, combining the walk itself with notes on geology, nature, and what makes these fleeting moments worth photographing in Ashdown Forest.
Continue reading Hidden Waterfalls of Ashdown Forest After Heavy RainThe High Weald is shaped by water as much as it is by woodland. Beneath the canopy of ancient forests, countless small streams cut through sandstone and clay, forming quiet, seasonal waterfalls that are easy to miss unless you know where to look. These are not dramatic tourist landmarks, but subtle features of the landscape that appear, fade, and change character with rainfall and time of year.
This post brings together a growing collection of lesser-known woodland waterfalls across the High Weald, documented over many walks and return visits. The focus is on atmosphere, seasonality, and context rather than exact directions, reflecting the fragile nature of these places and the effort involved in finding them.
To balance sharing with protection, precise locations are not published openly. Instead, general areas are described here, while exact pins are shared separately via a supporter map for those who value responsible exploration. The guide will continue to evolve as new waterfalls are discovered and existing sections are updated.
Continue reading High Weald Hidden Woodland WaterfallsThe Willingford Stream runs quietly through Dallington Forest and along the slopes of Brightling Down, but after prolonged rainfall it becomes one of the more rewarding winter locations on the High Weald. December’s cold, wet and overcast weather wasn’t ideal for wide landscapes, but it was perfect for returning to woodland streams and seasonal waterfalls.
This visit followed weeks of steady rain. In drier months the Willingford Stream is easy to overlook, but when water levels rise a series of small waterfalls and cascades begin to appear along its course.
Continue reading Willingford Stream Waterfalls – Dallington Forest and Brightling DownBeckley Woods sits on the High Weald near the East Sussex–Kent border and is a place that only really reveals itself in the right conditions. After weeks of cold, overcast and windy weather, December brought sustained rainfall — the kind of weather that keeps most people indoors, but transforms woodland streams and gullies. When wider landscapes feel flat, waterfalls become the natural focus.
Continue reading Beckley Woods Waterfalls After Heavy RainSt Leonards Gardens is one of the most historic green spaces in Hastings. I first came across it after visiting the James Burton memorial, and soon realised the gardens tell their own remarkable story — from the town’s Regency beginnings to Alan Turing’s childhood.
Here’s a short video walk through the gardens:
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The gardens were originally laid out in the 1830s by James Burton, the great Regency builder who founded St Leonards-on-Sea. Designed as private pleasure grounds for the residents of Burton’s new seaside resort, they featured sweeping lawns, ornamental planting, and a serpentine lake at the centre.
The lodges at the edges of the park became homes in their own right. At North Lodge, Henry Rider once lived — father of novelist H. Rider Haggard, author of King Solomon’s Mines. Later, the area became associated with another extraordinary figure: Alan Turing, pioneer of modern computing, who spent part of his childhood in a house overlooking the gardens during the 1920s.
By the later 19th century the private grounds had fallen into decline, but they were eventually restored and opened to the public. Today the park still follows Burton’s original layout, with its winding paths, ornamental lake, and a duck pond full of lilies and life.
Walking from South Lodge through to North Lodge, you can still sense the Regency ambition that shaped this corner of Hastings, alongside the stories of the remarkable people who lived here.
At the northern end of Hastings’ Alexandra Park lies a hidden valley once celebrated as a jewel of Victorian landscape design: Old Roar Ghyll. In the 1860s, when Robert Marnock laid out the park, the ghyll was meant to be its dramatic finale – a roaring sandstone waterfall, shaded woodland paths, rustic bridges and wild scenery just a short walk from town.
Today, the scene is very different.
Here’s a look at what I found on my recent visit:
Even now, you can trace the old walk through Little Roar Ghyll upstream to where the waterfall once roared. And yet, what was once a highlight of Hastings is now blocked by landslides, dried by drought, and hemmed in by housing estates.
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I started at the upper entrance, only to be stopped straight away by barriers and a sign – another path closed due to landslip.
So I dropped into Little Roar Ghyll instead, which still runs through the shaded woodland. It’s probably looked after more by locals than the council.
With the stream almost dry, I followed the bed upstream, pushing through nettles and scrambling over fallen logs. Eventually I reached Old Roar Ghyll itself – the great sandstone cliff that once carried a waterfall so loud it gave the place its name. This time it was silent, the stream cut off or dried to nothing, the rocks scarred by fresh collapses.
Just beyond, a smaller, unnamed waterfall spills prettily down the valley side – perhaps the loveliest sight of the day. But even here, blockages of timber and more closed paths show how little maintenance is done.
Alexandra Park below is still neat, polished, and well-funded, but the wild ghylls at the top are being left to rot. Some argue this is nature reclaiming itself – and there’s truth in that – but from walking it, it feels more like abandonment.
Local people know why: these valleys sit within protected SSSI land, meaning any work involves endless surveys, health and safety paperwork, and permissions. Residents who’d happily clear paths and keep the place open run into 50-page forms and bureaucracy. Meanwhile, houses stand right on the unstable edges, blighted by landslips, their values falling.
We’re told there’s no money, no will, and no plan – yet billions are found for other projects elsewhere.
There used to be a streamside path leading up to Roar Gyhll with it being the prize spectacle. During the 70s due to development right up to the valley edge it began to subside and gradually got closed off now completely inaccessible. This is what happens when short sighted housing is prioritised over rare natural environments like this.
Places like Old Roar Ghyll are more than neglected corners of a park. They’re part of our heritage and our wellbeing. Every child should have somewhere wild to roam close to home. Adults need green space for mental health, especially in towns. And in Hastings, these sandstone ghylls are rare landscapes found nowhere else in Sussex.
To let them collapse through short-sightedness and red tape is to lose a treasure forever.
Lake Wood, on the western edge of Uckfield, is a hidden corner of the High Weald. It offers a peaceful woodland walk, dramatic sandstone outcrops, and a spring-fed lake with a history that blends natural geology with human design.
Here’s a short reel from my visit:
A reminder of how geology, landscape, and community care combine to create something special.
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Lake Wood sits within the High Weald, one of the most geologically distinctive landscapes in southern England. Around 140 million years ago, during the Cretaceous, sands and clays were laid down in a shallow sea. Over time, erosion stripped away the softer clays and left behind the harder sandstone ridges.
The outcrops here belong to the Ardingly Sandstone — the same formation that gives rise to Eridge Rocks and other striking cliff faces across the Weald. These rocky ledges, caves, and gullies create a unique microclimate where mosses, lichens, and ferns thrive.
The lake itself is spring-fed and seepage-fed through surrounding rocks and peat, forming a balanced ecosystem for aquatic life and woodland species.
In the early 19th century, the estate owner landscaped Lake Wood in the romantic picturesque style. Tunnels, steps, and even a boathouse were carved directly into the sandstone, blending natural features with human design.
What feels ancient and untouched is partly a crafted vision, shaped to enhance its beauty and mystery. Today, the Woodland Trust manages the site, preserving both its ecological value and historic character.
Lake Wood is no ordinary woodland — it has survived repeated threats of development thanks to decades of effort from the local community. Volunteers work tirelessly to keep the paths open, clear litter, and protect wildlife.
Erosion from footfall can expose tree roots and wear away the sandstone ledges, so staying to the marked paths is important. Signs also ask visitors not to swim or fish, as the delicate pH of the lake must be preserved.
The latest challenge came as recently as 2024, when a large housing appeal was dismissed after strong local opposition. Lake Wood stands today because people continue to care about it.
