Approaching Peggy’s Cove you are struck by the awe and wonder of the space. What on paper seems like it should be just any other lighthouse is anything but. Perhaps that is the legend within Canada of this iconic space, but whenever I’ve brought people there it’s still brings on a sense of awe.
In 2022 I found myself back in Nova Scotia and eagerly awaiting my return to the Cove. As we drove up the sun was already starting to hang low. Peggy’s Cove sits in a perfect position for sunsets, and that night did not disappoint. I rushed with my camera and tripod to start scouting spots for photos. As I approached one section of the rocks I saw a person sitting, white hoodie on, and alone. Just empty space all around them.
If you’ve been to Peggy’s Cove you know just how hard it can be to find that kind of quiet and emptiness. And as sunset was only minutes away, that sense of isolation and quiet would probably start to fade as more people poured in. But I was fascinated by this person and this shot. Sitting so small against the larger sky, against the rocks that surrounded them, there was something both beautiful and sad. This place that is normally packed with people, these rocks that see children and adults climb all over as they gaze out across the ocean, were empty except this one person. Moments of quiet reflection soon to be broken up as people (including myself) trapped through the space.
That sense of peace and sorrow hit me in that moment. To be somewhere so beautiful, to be seeing what we were seeing, but to also be alone. For me, that felt painful.
In my photography I have found there are two types of photos that touch me the most. The first are the ones that come from an adventure with people I care about. These moments of shared discovery of something beautiful. Sitting on a mountain in Banff after spending all day climbing. Going for a walk with a friend in a new part of the city I’ve never explored all that much.
The other is when those moments of beauty are mine alone, and I feel the emptiness of that moment. Beauty, to me, should be shared. It’s part of why I like to take the type of photos I take. To showcase and share the beauty that I see as I wander through life.
But here was this moment. I wasn’t alone, my friends were just feet behind me exploring the space they had never seen. But I could see this person, happily in their own moment of time. I saw the beauty of both a shared space and a solo presence. The sun only set a few feet more before she got up and walked back towards me. Wishing me well, and telling me that God is great, she passed by. She wasn’t interested in what was coming at that point. The sunset and the droves of people didn’t need to be there for her to be done with whatever she wanted from Peggy’s Cove that day.
For me, it was a moment of quiet reflection. Within this photo I saw beauty and loneliness, quiet contemplation in a space that is normally crowded and busy. A space where somehow this person managed to steal away just a bit of something from the world and hold it for themselves. And for me, it was a moment to find beauty in isolation that I shared with others.
