General Information
During the year 2000 D J Clark built a visual record of the Lancaster &
Morecambe district using photographs and information submitted by those that
feature in the pictures. The project was conducted in association with Lancaster
Museum and has been archived for future generations to look back at the district
at the turn of the new Millennium. For more information on the project visit
the information page. If you find a caption is
wrong or there is a fault with the page please e-mail D
J Clark.
Date:
April 24th & 1st May 2000
Location: Wray
Photographer's Diary
Wray Scarecrow Festival 24th April
We went onto the scarecrow festival, but as we moved from the car so the rain began. Running to the pub we sheltered with a pint of beer and talked to some locals who explained the real festival would be underway the following weekend. This sounded much more fun to me and therefore I put my cameras away and headed home. Five minutes after we left the sun broke, and we were left unsure whether to return. We didn't.
May 1st - Wray Scarecrow Festival
After the first failed attempt, try 2 was a different story. Huge dancing scarecrows greeted me as I drove up the thin busy high street. I parked up and joined the crowds as I made my way through the streets, photography the scarecrows that adorned every building. Many were puns on contemporary media issues that saw groups stop and try to work out what the intended theme might be. What struck me was the sheer quantity of them.
Moving into the field and paying by £2.50 entry fee I circulated and shot the various activities that were happening. The field was packed though every villager I met complained about the lack of numbers. "It's having the two bank holidays together, that's the problem". After two walks round the field, I was bored and shot faces in the crowd watching a dog heard up some geese. More bazaar was the Indian take away which had set up in the corner of the field, but was clearly doing good business.
I moved onto the next field to find farmers chucking horse shoes. We chatted as they joked about modelling fees and TV rights. It was a tradition and one that had been relegated to a field on the outskirts with me as the only spectator. A shame really as they were remarkably accurate.
Next the fell race and I decided to hike up the hill to catch the runners in action. This was a madness I had once succumbed to some years ago but soon realised, running up mountains is not fun. Going by the number of entrants this logic had not reached the masses and I took a number of frames of people of all ages as they jogged upwards.
Finishing with the tug of war I packed up and headed home. Long before many runners had reached the finish line.