This week’s YouTube vlog on Exploring France through landscape photography takes me to the department of Creuse. As I can’t travel as I normally do due to the lockdown, I’ve decided to get out and discover more of the country that I live in.
The department of Creuse consistently receives the lowest number of visitors among all other departments in France. And it’s a shame because Creuse has some beautiful rolling landscapes as well as old towns and villages to visit.
I had in mind’s eye that I’d like to capture some of the autumn colours here as well as get to some really out-of-the-way places. The weather didn’t play ball, though and hindered a lot of my day. But that has only made me even more determined to capture this corner of France in a better light.
You’re going to hear mention of a location where I can’t give out the coordinates. It’s very out of the way and not marked on any map. Please respect the fact that it sits on private property.
There’s a lot to do, and as in each episode, I can only scratch the surface due to time constraints.
And if you’re interested, I offer photography tours and workshops in a variety of destinations around the world. If you’re interested in learning more from me to help you get the best out of your photography, then get in touch.
Creuse sits in south-central France, and it stays off most travel lists. That still surprises me. The more I researched it, the more I realised there was far more here than its quiet reputation suggests.
I came looking for rivers, forests, old buildings and some early autumn colour. Because I could not travel as I normally would, I wanted to spend more time exploring the country I live in. Creuse felt like the right sort of place for that, rural, overlooked and full of corners that rarely get much attention.
I began at the most northerly point of Creuse, standing in Indre and looking across towards Crozant. From there, I could see the old ruins, the River Creuse and another river joining it nearby. Even under a dull sky, the setting had presence. The river bends, the stone ruins, and the wooded slopes all hinted at the kind of photographs I had hoped to make later in the day.
What struck me first was how quiet it all felt. This was not a polished tourist stop packed with signs and easy viewpoints. It felt more like a place that asks you to slow down, look harder and do a bit of work. For photography, I like that. It means the pictures are rarely handed to me.
Creuse also has a useful kind of unpredictability. One moment, I was looking at open river views and castle ruins, then I was searching for woodland cascades and forgotten chapels. Even before the day had properly started, I could tell there was enough here for far more than one outing.
The weather shaped almost everything. Rain followed me for most of the day, and that changed the plan from the start.
After Crozant, I drove to an abbey I had found during my research. I thought it would give me something solid to work with while the rain passed. Instead, it was closed, and there were no opening hours posted anywhere. That sort of thing can knock the wind out of a morning because it costs time, and good light never waits.
So I changed course and headed for a waterfall I had marked earlier. That decision saved the day.
Finding waterfalls in central France is not always easy, at least not in the same way it is in parts of the UK. In the Peak District or on Dartmoor, I often feel those places reveal themselves more quickly. Here, I had to search. When I reached this one, tucked into woodland amongst mossy rocks and dark stone, it felt earned.
The geology reminded me of Britain straight away. The rocks were slick and textured, the woodland floor was rich with moss, and the water came down in a narrow cascade that suited a tighter composition. Early autumn colour had started to show as well, which gave the whole scene a softer edge against the wet stone.
I settled on a simple approach for the shot:
I liked the way a rock in the centre split the flow. At the same time, I could see one small flaw, because one edge of the rock did not have quite enough water running over it. That left the shape a little awkward. I also knew there might have been a stronger angle lower down on the rocks, but I had not brought wellies and did not want to push too far into the water.
Even so, this was the first point in the day when Creuse began to show what it could do.
Later on, I found one of the day’s most memorable places, a hidden cascade beneath an old bridge. I will not say where it is, and I will not share coordinates, because the site is on private property.
That mattered far more than the shot. I was only there because I asked permission, in French, and was allowed in. The owner recognised that I was English and may have spoken a little English himself, but that was not the point. The point was respect. I was on someone else’s land, and I knew it.
The best part of that stop was not the picture, it was being allowed to stand there at all.
The scene itself was beautiful. Water ran from beneath the bridge and spread through the old stone arches in a way that felt calm rather than dramatic. Because of the recent rain, there was a good amount of flow, although I could see that a couple of the lower openings had been blocked off. I had seen photographs where more water came through those sections, and I know that would have made the whole thing even stronger.
Still, I was happy to be there. The bridge had age, character and the sort of rough texture that works well in wet light. It was the kind of location that feels hidden even when you are standing in it.
This was also the point where I realised my audio recorder had developed a problem. If anything sounded off throughout the day, that was why. It was one more small irritation, yet by then I had stopped expecting the day to run smoothly. Creuse was giving me photographs in fragments, and I had to take them as they came.
After leaving that secret location, I stopped at another castle I had found while researching the area. I will not pretend the light was perfect. It was a little top-heavy, and the trees in front of the building made the composition more awkward than I would usually like.
Yet the place had a real fairy-tale feel to it. That mattered.
Storm clouds had gathered behind the castle whilst the foreground still held some brightness. That contrast worked in my favour. The dark sky gave the building more presence, and the lighter tones lower down kept the scene from turning flat. I tried a few angles, including a straighter view towards the building, and the result felt stronger than I expected when I first stepped out of the car.
By that stage, I was starting to enjoy myself again. The rain had broken the day’s rhythm again and again, but this stop reminded me why I had come. Even when the conditions are awkward, old stone under changing weather can still carry a picture.
Creuse seemed to work best when I stopped demanding a perfect plan from it.
On the way back towards Crozant, I made one more stop at a small chapel I had marked during my research. I reached it at exactly the right moment. Sunlight was striking the chapel cleanly, and after such a grey day, that felt like a gift.
The chapel was not the main reason I stayed, though. Right beside it stood a tree that completely took over the scene.
I do not know how old it is, but it had the kind of shape that makes a photographer stop in silence for a moment. The trunk and crown had weight, balance and presence. If you love photographing trees, this was hard to beat. The chapel helped frame the place and gave it context, yet the tree was the real subject.
The light helped as well. Because of the angle of the sun, I did not need to wrestle with graduated filters or force the exposure. The light was soft enough to hold detail across the scene, and that made the work easier. After spending much of the day working around rain, dark woodland and awkward contrast, this felt refreshingly simple.
What I liked most was the sense of calm. Wet days can sometimes lead me towards busier pictures, because I keep searching for something that will rescue the outing. This stop did the opposite. It slowed everything down. The chapel, the tree and the late light all sat together naturally.
It was also worth the detour on its own. Even if I had photographed nothing else, that tree would have justified the stop.
I made it back to Crozant, but not in time.
By the time I reached the viewpoint, the sun had already slipped behind a ridge. Sunset had not arrived yet, but the sidelight I wanted on the old castle had gone. I reckon I missed it by about ten minutes, and that was hard to swallow.
I knew what I had hoped for. I wanted that low light to rake across the ruins and the slopes below, because it would have given shape to the stone and pulled out the texture in the scene. Without it, the photograph felt incomplete. There was still something in the sky, a storm cloud with patches of blue around it, and I could appreciate that. But it was not the frame I had come back for.
The timing matters even more here because the ridge cuts the light early. It is a reminder that sunset on paper is not always the same as usable light on location. Next time, I will note the exact timing more carefully in PhotoPills and give myself more margin.
I also think the view will improve in a couple of weeks. There was already some colour in the trees along the river, and I suspect they will turn a richer gold with a little more time. If that happens, Crozant will be even stronger.
I considered sending the drone up for a different angle, if only to salvage something new from the stop. Yet my main feeling was frustration, because I knew how close I had been.
By the end, I had fewer photographs than I wanted. The rain had ruined parts of the plan, the abbey stop came to nothing, the secret bridge scene was not at full flow, and Crozant slipped away in the final light.
Even so, I left convinced that Creuse deserves far more attention than it gets.
There is enough variety here to keep me interested for several trips. In one day, I found river views, ruined stone, hidden water, woodland colour, a chapel and one superb tree. That is a strong return for a place many people pass over. More than that, the misses told me as much as the successes did. I could see where the better images are likely to be, and I could feel how much difference timing will make when I come back.
I am picky with photography, and I do not mind admitting it. I do not want a half-finished version of a scene if I know it can be better. Creuse gave me several reminders of that. It also gave me enough promise to make the return feel necessary rather than optional.
If the weather keeps me indoors on the next outing, I may turn to a review I have been preparing on the Unleashed timelapse device from Foolography, which I have been testing with good results. But if the light improves, my thoughts will be back in Creuse.
Creuse did not hand me an easy day, but it gave me a truthful one. I saw how much the area has to offer, and I also saw how quickly weather and timing can change the outcome.
That is why I want to return. The strongest thing I brought home was not a finished set of photographs; it was the sense that Creuse still has more to show me when the light, colour and timing finally line up.
