Tony Bridge Photography

Tony Bridge Photography See the world through different eyes. A collection of travel, cityscape and landscape photography fr

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After such a barnstorming start, the rest of the day had a lot to live up to. It really didn’t disappoint. We had woken ...
01/06/2026

After such a barnstorming start, the rest of the day had a lot to live up to. It really didn’t disappoint. We had woken beside the high dunes of the classic Sahara. We would end it walking between the impossibly sheer sides on the Todra Gorge. The day itself would be filled to the brim by exploration of the harsh desert landscape, an introduction to the alien but somehow alluring way of life of the Bedouin who still call the wild, remote harshness home, a toe-tapping musical intermission and a long haul across a vast, dry, dusty unforgiving landscape to a place of complete contrast - the verdant lushness of the oasis surrounding the Toudgha River.

After a day of sun-baked sand, rocks and dusty hills and outcrops, standing amidst green fields, fruit bushes and date palms, listening the high-decibel cacophony of birdsong and watching bees and butterflies buzzing and fluttering by was almost surreal. Here was wheat, legumes and fruit bushes, whilst just a short climb up the rocky valley sides lay an endless panorama of terracotta, parched semi-desert, punctuated by wind-carved rocky outcrops and backdropped by the rain-shadow foothills of the High Atlas Mountains that held back the humid Atlantic winds.

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All images and words (c) 2026 Tony Bridge.
Shot on Canon EOS R7 and iPhone 14 Pro.
May 2026

The courtyards and corridors of the hotel were empty and quiet apart from the ‘woo woo’-ing of the mutinous collared dov...
01/06/2026

The courtyards and corridors of the hotel were empty and quiet apart from the ‘woo woo’-ing of the mutinous collared doves. The pre-dawn desert air was chill and fresh. As we walked up and over the first dunes at the back of the building, the sand was cool as it washed like stream-water over our sandled feet. The wind had dropped, but occasional gusts still lifted the sand off the surface of the dunes and swirled it around our legs and occasionally our faces, forcing us to turn away.

The sky was a blue-tinted steel grey, one horizon swept by a thicker bank of cloud, the others clear, but hazy with the cold light left by night relaxing away from the world. Though only 30 -40 minutes before sunrise, there was no hint of pinkness tinting the western sky away from the arc the sun would follow. The sand at our feet, and suddenly, seemingly all around us was a cold grey-brown, highlighted in silver, shadowed in dun. Although the light was soft, diffuse, the sweeps and waves of the quietly shifting sands still had subtle contrast, the dunes marked with charcoal definition.

We found a spot atop a mound where the tall downs-like hills of the higher dunes rose in front of us and the desert surrounded us like a morning duvet, and waited, watching, listening, absorbing. The breeze whispered liked hushed cathedral voices as it reorganised the dunes around us. Doves coo’d distantly, but otherwise… silence. You could almost hear the sun panting its way higher into the sky somewhere behind the eastern horizon. As it climbed, the sky brightened, grey fading to purple-blue then increasingly dusty aquamarine. The desert shifted from dun to pale chocolate, from burnt ochre to the colour of a perfect cup of morning tea. Casts of light and shade grew deeper, more defined.

Then, with no fanfare other than a sudden puff of warmth carried through the chill air, sun rays spilt above the undulating ridge in front of us, photons racing towards us from impossible distances across space to cast perfect modelling light on the ripples in the sand round us. Individual sand grains glistened and gleamed. Gentle warmth chased away the cold of the night. The sun rose quickly higher, raking like a supernova searchlight low across the ground. Slopes facing the sun were lit in burning gold and saffron, ending at pencil sharp lines overlooking valleys of darkest shadow. Where the desert had looked at peace, resting pale through the night, it was suddenly once more alive, alight with fire and the harsh mocking play of light and dark. Another day had dawned. Once more the dunes would be seared by the unforgiving sun and shifted by the relentless breeze. The drama of another dawn, played out, audience or no, through time immemorial had come to an end. The actors had taken their curtain call, it was time for we watchers to leave the theatre and head back to the real world where people were awakening and breakfast beckoned…

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All images and words (c) 2026 Tony Bridge.
Shot in Canon EOS R7.
May 2026

We hit the road early, the sky slowly lightening with the grey of pre-dawn. The group yawned and rubbed sleepy eyes as t...
25/05/2026

We hit the road early, the sky slowly lightening with the grey of pre-dawn. The group yawned and rubbed sleepy eyes as the minibus slipped through Fez’s still quiet streets and out into the countryside, heading south.

Some dozed as we cruised through a fertile landscape, flushed green from the winter rains and then began to wind ever upwards, snaking up into the mountains of the Middle Atlas and their forest-clad slopes. The coffee stop a couple of hours in was as surreal as it was welcome. Where two hours before, we’d woken up in the dusty chaos of Fez, here we were sipping strong coffee in the overly-manicured streets of Ifrane, a Swiss-style alpine resort, chill mountain air nipping at our fingers and ears. The contrast was striking, the clean, crisp air refreshing.

The road continued through the mountains, past a family of layby-dwelling macaques and through a landscape that turned from thick forest, to green, scrubby steppe to ever increasing dryness and desolation as we ate up the miles. Lunch was in a service station cafe surrounded by dust and the slopes of dry mountains.

Still onwards we hauled, past a huge reservoir, lit muddy aquamarine under a hazy sky and down to a sudden, palm-filled river oasis, date palms crowding impossibly together, hiding verdant agriculture supporting the small villages that surrounded it. All around, the landscape was a Mars-scape of orange rocks, of dust, punctuated by desperate, clinging scrub and whirling dust-devils, spinning brown under a darkening sky.

Eventually, after the sleepy town of Merzouga, we turned off the sand-blown road and down a bone-shaking rocky track to our accommodation for the night, the Auberge des Dunes d’Or. The sun was being blocked by a gloomy, misty sky full of swirling sand and a gusty, angry wind scoured the flat, yellow landscape sandblasting our faces as we entered into the courtyard of this casbah-style hotel.

Our guide tried valiantly to keep our attention as he gave us our orientation, but most were struggling against the effects of the early start, the road weariness and the sense of yet more culture-shock at the desolate, alien landscape we found ourselves in. Then, as he pulled open the heavy wooden doors in the rear wall of the compound, stating blandly “and this is where we will meet for the camel ride later”, he lost us completely. Gasps, uncontrolled “wows” and more than a few swear words filled the air as recognition of what lay before us dawned: a sea of towering, windswept, orange dunes disappeared into the distance, like something from a fairy tale of Scherezade, or at least one of the more visually stunning sequences from Denis Villeneuve’s Dune. Mohammed had opened the portal to a different world, a parallel universe filled with sand, stark flowing shapes, of emptiness and whistling wind. Somehow arrangements for dinner and the next day were no longer important.

The tired, jaded group of weary travellers had, for a moment, gone. In their place, a jabbering group of over-excited 5 year olds, staring open-mouthed at the stuff of dreams…

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All images and words (c) 2026 Tony Bridge. Shot on Canon EOS R7 and iPhone 14 Pro.
May 2026

G Adventures

The local guide gathered us just outside one of the entrances to the Médina. “ I will be up front and Mohammed will brin...
24/05/2026

The local guide gathered us just outside one of the entrances to the Médina.

“ I will be up front and Mohammed will bring up the rear. We will stop regularly to make sure we are all still together. Try and keep to the right and when we stop, line up against the edge so people can get through. If you get separated from the group, stay where you are. Don’t try and find the group, we will find you. Some of you will not make it out alive.”

Ok, that last part was made up, but the guide was trying his hardest to prepare us for the mayhem that was about to ensue. Casablanca had felt chilled. Volubulis was green and tranquil. Inside Fez medina was nothing short of an assault on all senses, at the same time, relentless and overpowering. Touch came from brushing shoulders against the walls of alleyways barely wide enough to sidle down, and from the constant jostling of people pushing past, crowding around, squeezing in. Hearing was overwhelmed by the cacophony of voices, talking, shouting, selling, cursing as they tried to push through, from drummers drumming, instruments playing, hand carts rattling over the rough pavements. Vision was overwhelmed by knowing where to look first with so many new and unusual sights to behold: architecture, market stalls, goods, people; and needing eyes in the back of your head to step out of the way as people and goods rushed through. The mix of smells was overpowering: earthy, fragrant blends from spice stalls, cooking odours from food carts and restaurants, pungency from butchers, fruiterers, bakers, smoke from the blacksmiths, human smells of sweat mixed with perfumes and, as we neared the tanneries, the overpowering stench of ammonia and pigeon s**t, barely softened by the bunches of mint leaves used as natural air freshener.

Those first few minutes in this chaos of humanity felt like culture shock with the dial turned right up. It was breathtaking, shocking, exhausting, relentless but also strangely exhilarating as the adrenaline kicked in and every sense became heightened. Soon, the sense of panic and almost-fear began to wear off, and the assault became like a massage of the senses. The Médina was alive with life, and as time began to pass more slowly, being in the midst of it felt like being truly alive and the world outside, somewhere slow and dull.

We all made it out alive. In fact for a few hours we were probably more alive than we’d ever been before…

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All images and words (c) 2026 Tony Bridge. Shot on Canon EOS R7 and iPhone 14 Pro. Polished and pruned in Lightroom.
May 2026.

G Adventures

The destination for our first full day on the road in Morocco was Fez, but on the way, we stopped off at the remains of ...
21/05/2026

The destination for our first full day on the road in Morocco was Fez, but on the way, we stopped off at the remains of the Roman town of Volubilis. Once a key trading city on the western fringes of the empire, where goods and people following the trade routes across the Sahara, or across the strait to Iberia, met. In its day, it was a rich and thriving town, but time, climate and earthquakes have done their usual deconstruction job. What remains are remains, with enough extant to be able to sense the layout and hint at the vast scale of the place.

Despite being a popular stop off point on most travels around the country, this was a peaceful place, nestled on a low hillside overlooking a fertile valley and surrounded by higher mountains. A winter of record rainfall in North Africa and the western Mediterranean meant that everything was verdantly clothed, the stark skeletal ruins contrasting with lush vegetation to create a sense of a place at once ancient, but also very much alive.

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All images and words (c) 2026 Tony Bridge. If you’ve got it and didn’t make it, you stole it!
Shot on Canon EOS R7, perfected in Lightroom. May 2026.

The problem with action-packed foreign trips that cover as much ground as possible in a short space of time, is you don’...
20/05/2026

The problem with action-packed foreign trips that cover as much ground as possible in a short space of time, is you don’t get any down time to do much image processing as you go. Our recent Morocco - Kasbahs and Desert trip with G Adventures was one such intense journey.

But now, having had a a few days to do a bit of sifting, sorting and a little tickling in Lightroom, it’s time to start uploading some photographic highlights.

Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world… it must be Casablanca…

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All images (c) 2026 Tony Bridge, so no stealing! Shot on Canon EOS R7 and iPhone 14 Pro. Lovingly twiddled with in Lightroom.

Thursday’s walk in the wilds - a ridge walk circuit of Meall a’ Buchaillle, Creagan Gorm and Craigowrie via the bothy at...
17/04/2026

Thursday’s walk in the wilds - a ridge walk circuit of Meall a’ Buchaillle, Creagan Gorm and Craigowrie via the bothy at Ryvoan, down in Cairngorms National Park. Steep climb, (very) windswept ridges and pretty fine views of the big hills across the way. What more could you want from a day in the hills?

All images (c) Tony Bridge. Shot in RAW on iPhone 14 Pro.
16th April 2026

Wednesday’s walk - a wander out to Sandwood Bay.
15/04/2026

Wednesday’s walk - a wander out to Sandwood Bay.

Tuesday’s gentle stroll (and first big walk of the year) up Quinag, undoubtedly one of Assynt’s finest mountains. Funny ...
15/04/2026

Tuesday’s gentle stroll (and first big walk of the year) up Quinag, undoubtedly one of Assynt’s finest mountains. Funny who you bump into in the Scottish hills, though…

The Dancers were certainly strutting their funky stuff tonight following the recent and rather huge solar storm, and for...
19/01/2026

The Dancers were certainly strutting their funky stuff tonight following the recent and rather huge solar storm, and for once the gap in the cloud cover was right over Sutherland.

As well as the intense colours, clearly visible to the naked eye, the sky was so bright, the landscape was lit as if under a full moon, so bright there was no need for a torch. The remaining patches of snow carried hints of the lights above - green, red and orange, whilst the distant mountains stood as pale ghosts under their white-shadowy blankets. With the enduring and heavy silence of the Sutherland night, you could almost hear the waves of colour rippling across the star-filled sky.

West Shinness, Lairg. 19th Jan 2026.
Shot on Canon EOS R5
All images (c) 2026 Tony Bridge

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