You would think I would have known better. Paid closer attention. Especially as I know only too well that every couple of minutes there comes a wave bigger than all the rest. I lost a camera to such a wave back in March. But no. I thought I was at a safe distance, not even on the shelf where I normally stand but behind it, higher up on a grassy bank. I turned my back - to change a filter with my bag open on the ground before me. I was alerted by the angry snarl of the sea behind me but it was too late…

I had gone to Ballintoy in the morning, excited by the prospect of big waves and armed with a super telephoto lens recently purchased precisely for such a day. And the day didn’t disappoint. Huge waves battered the rocks around the tiny harbour delighting the many who had come to witness the spectacle. My objective was to photograph waves. To zoom in close, freeze the motion and capture the power of the sea.

By lunchtime I had already a number of shots I was pleased with, so I took a break and went to a local cafe where they were serving Covid-secure coffee. Two coastguards were in the queue ahead of me, reminding me of my brief conversation with them earlier at the harbour. “I hope you’re not too busy,” I said. “Busy enough,” was the reply, and it’s to get worse later as the tide comes in.”

Music to my ears, hoping, of course, that everyone would stay safe. So I returned to my spot hoping for that one big wave. And sure enough it came, an enormous sea monster that through the telephoto lens seemed to be about to consume Fairhead.

With so many dramatic photos already captured and with the light beginning to fade I was considering packing up to go home. How I now wish I had! But at that moment a rainbow appeared right over the section of sea I was shooting. It was too good an opportunity to miss. But a change of lens was required.

Changing a lens and then adding a filter required me to set my backpack down, open it to hunt for a filter and my day’s photography was over.

I stood helplessly as the sea water swirled around me, knocked the camera onto the ground, picked up my bag and swept it down into a rock pool, where it floated like a sinking boat rapidly taking in water. “No, no, oh no!” was all I could manage as I finally reacted and fished my semi-submerged bag out of its briny coffin.

A shocked photographer who had witnessed the entire scene kindly supplied some cloths so that I could at least attempt to dry my gear. One lens seemed to have remained above the tide. But the rest told a different tale. I looked into the lens that I had on my camera. Sea water was sloshing around behind the front element. When I switched the camera on only the shutter actuated, firing constantly at high speed. Later I would discover that the Sigma was also dead.

One rogue wave - a wave I should have expected but hadn’t seen because my back was turned - probably the biggest wave of the entire day had exploded on the rocks behind me, sending a river of water up the bank at considerable speed.

It took a while to sink in. Not simply that sea water and electronics don’t mix. But that had I been any closer I would have discovered that sea water and 67 year old grandfathers don’t mix too well either. (My wife helped me to see the point!)

An old man - well heading that way anyway - and the sea. And a lesson hopefully learned.