Much like the structure of Birnbeck Pier itself, this image very nearly ended up in the bin. Lately, I've felt a little out of practice and out of rhythm with my landscape photography. Once the files were off the camera and onto the computer, the disappointment started to set in. The images felt soft, lacking the crispness I was hoping for, and a long-standing exposure issue I've been wrestling with has begun to chip away at my confidence in the camera's ability to capture what I'm actually seeing in front of me. Of course, any number of factors could be at play. Age, eyesight, changing conditions, or perhaps simply spending so much time shooting sports and action with the Canon R6 Mark II. Whatever the reason, something doesn't quite feel right, and that growing doubt in the equipment certainly isn't doing much for the creative mojo.

This particular image was probably the one that suffered most. Looking at it initially, I couldn't see much worth saving. The detail wasn't quite there, the image didn't have the crispness I wanted and, if I'm honest, my first thought was simply to delete it and move on. But there was something about the scene that kept bringing me back to it. And perhaps that was partly because of the subject.

Birnbeck Pier isn't just another Victorian seaside pier. Built to a design by engineer Eugenius Birch between 1864 and 1867, it is unique in the UK in that the pier terminates on an island rather than simply extending out into the sea. It became a major attraction during the Victorian and Edwardian eras, with amusements, steamer services and, importantly, lifeboat stations on Birnbeck Island. Today, it is difficult to imagine the place as it once was.

The pier closed to the public in 1994 after years of decline and increasing concerns over its condition. Since then, Birnbeck has spent decades deteriorating, becoming one of those places where you can see the history quite literally disappearing in front of you. Historic England has had the pier on its Heritage at Risk Register since 1998. There is also a rather more important part to its history than simply being a Victorian attraction. The RNLI operated from Birnbeck Island for generations, but the lifeboat station was eventually forced to close in 2014 because the pier had become too dangerous. The plan now is to restore the site and bring the RNLI back to the island.

Thankfully, Birnbeck's story isn't quite over. In 2023, North Somerset Council acquired the pier and island, allowing plans for its restoration to move forward. The project is being delivered in phases, with funding coming from organisations including the National Lottery Heritage Fund, Historic England, the National Heritage Memorial Fund, the UK Government and the RNLI. Emergency works were completed in December 2024, and the longer-term aim is to stabilise and restore the historic site while eventually allowing public access and returning the RNLI to the island.

Standing there looking at it, you can't help but wonder what the pier must have looked like in its heyday. The elegant Victorian ironwork is still there, but much of what once made Birnbeck a destination has disappeared. What remains has a slightly melancholic quality to it, which, as a photographer, is probably part of what attracted me to the scene in the first place. There is something quite compelling about photographing places that have seen better days. They don't necessarily need perfect weather or spectacular light. Sometimes the decay, the weathering and the sense of history are what make the image. Of course, none of that helped me much when I was sat in front of Lightroom wondering what on earth I was going to do with my photograph!

After much trial and tribulation — and a fair amount of time spent moving between Lightroom, DxO, Topaz and Photoshop — I eventually managed to pull the image back from the bin. There was sharpening, noise reduction, exposure adjustments and probably far more pixel peeping than was ever healthy. Eventually, though, I reached the point where I stopped trying to make the image technically perfect and started asking myself a rather simpler question: Does it still tell the story I wanted it to tell? - And I think it does.

Birnbeck Pier has survived decades of neglect and uncertainty and is now, thankfully, being given another chance. My photograph nearly ended up in the trash. Two things that, in very different ways, have been salvaged.

• Salvaged – Bird's Eye View
• DJI Mavic Air Camera used:
• DJI 24mm f/2.8 Lens used:
• 24mm Focal length:
• f/2.8 Aperture:
• 1/2000th Sec Exposure time:
• 170 ISO:

Eye in the Sky

Later in the morning, I took the opportunity to get the drone up and see Birnbeck from a completely different perspective. From the ground, it's easy to concentrate on the weathered ironwork and the deteriorating structure, but looking down from above really shows the relationship between the pier, the mainland and Birnbeck Island.

It's also a reminder of just how exposed the whole structure is. Stretching out into the Bristol Channel, the pier has spent more than a century and a half dealing with the weather, the tides and everything else the elements can throw at it. From this height, you can really appreciate both the scale of the structure and just how remarkable it is that so much of the original pier still survives. From the air, the reason Birnbeck is so unusual becomes particularly obvious. This isn't simply a pier stretching out into the Bristol Channel; it's a bridge between the mainland and an island, something that becomes much harder to appreciate when you're standing beneath it looking along the length of the structure.