Gareth Llewellyn

Gareth Llewellyn Photographer Outdoor Lifestyle
South Wales & beyond. See my Instagram

07/05/2026

Strumble Head, Pembrokeshire.

A trip like this does not always give you the freedom to stop for every frame your eye lands on.So you learn to stay rea...
02/04/2026

A trip like this does not always give you the freedom to stop for every frame your eye lands on.

So you learn to stay ready, notice quickly, and trust what sticks.

These are some of the frames from Iceland I wanted to give a little more room to. Some from the more recognisable locations, and some from the in between.

The in between is often where I enjoy making photographs most.

Put together like this, the set feels less about revealing every detail, and more about holding onto what I actually noticed.

I hope some of them land with you too.

Gar

Out east.
Some places feel quieter from the start.

Less immediate, less determined to impress, and better for that.This...
31/03/2026

Out east.

Some places feel quieter from the start.

Less immediate, less determined to impress, and better for that.
This was one of those.

The light kept shifting. So did the weather. Snow moving through, cloud thickening and lifting, small breaks of brightness letting a little colour into the water before closing again. The mountain kept slipping in and out of the cloud, its shape never quite settling for long.

I liked that about this stop. It never fully announced itself. It just kept changing, gradually, and the photographs came with it. I wouldn’t know what to expect from this location if I visit it again.

There is a little more of us in this set too, which felt right. Some places are not only about the landscape itself, but about being out there in it while it keeps rearranging in front of you. As someone who does most of my photography alone, and generally prefers to, this adventure was best with a team, a solid team it was also.

Aerial RAWs in this set shot by &

📷

Fjaðrárgljúfur
At some places there was time to stay with things properly.
At others, it was more about responding to wh...
29/03/2026

Fjaðrárgljúfur

At some places there was time to stay with things properly.

At others, it was more about responding to what was there, working quickly, and then moving on.
This was one of those places.

It is easy for locations like this to be dismissed as too known, too photographed, or too obvious. But I do not think popularity is much of a reason to look past something. Some places are well known because they genuinely deserve to be.

What matters more to me is the version of the place that meets you when you arrive.
Here, it was snow, wind, rain, a little warmer light pushing through, and then the weather turning again before we made our way back to the car and carried on east.

Not every stop needs more than that. Sometimes a place gives you exactly enough to remember it by.

And sometimes, as much as I love storytelling and bringing different things together, it is still just a pleasure to spend a few minutes simply photographing a landscape.

Drone by who is to blame for me picking up a Mavic as soon as I got home.

Some places stay with you.
Not only because they are striking, but because of when they entered your life, and what they...
27/03/2026

Some places stay with you.

Not only because they are striking, but because of when they entered your life, and what they came to represent at the time.

I first stepped onto this beach in 2019. It was one of the first places I travelled to specifically to photograph, and for years I wanted to return. Somehow it kept being pushed back. So standing here again now felt significant in a way that is hard to reduce to just the photographs.

When we arrived, the conditions only added to that feeling. Darker weather building in the distance, mood in the sky, but with enough warmer light still pushing through to lift the black sand and catch the mountain. The kind of light that gives a place tension. Not flat, not settled, but shifting.

That is part of what keeps places like this alive photographically. You can return to the same place and still be met with a different version of it. We did exactly that here. Came back again, found more snow, and watched the whole scene shift into something else.

I’m finding that Iceland is pulling me into smaller collections like this. Place by place. Working back through each location, paying attention again to what caught my eye there and what made it stay with me.

And this was a meaningful one. Not just for what it looks like, but for what it meant to return.

Some places are planned.
You study them before you arrive. You think about the light, the land, the photographs you migh...
25/03/2026

Some places are planned.

You study them before you arrive. You think about the light, the land, the photographs you might make there.
Others ask less of you at first.

You take a chance on a place none of you really know, follow a slightly challenging road to get there, and then it reveals itself. The light starts catching across the scene, the landscape opens up, and suddenly you are out of the car and shooting before the moment shifts.

This was one of those places.

What held me most was that small wooden building sitting quietly within it all. A subtle human touch in a landscape that otherwise felt vast and almost untouched. I have always found something compelling in that. The point where scale, stillness, and human presence meet in the same frame.

The longer we stayed, the more it opened up. Not just in the obvious wide views, but in the smaller photographs too. The quieter ones. The details that help a place feel lived in, or at least briefly touched, even when everything around felt wild and distant.

I have been thinking a lot about how to share Iceland, and I think the answer is probably piece by piece. Location by location. Letting each stop hold its own mood and memory before I try to say too much about the trip as a whole.

So this feels like the right place to start. The first of quite and epic few moments from Iceland I am looking forward to sharing.

Eye in the Skye frames
Eye

People, places, things. Venice.
A person, a place, a thing.

Still some of my favourite ways to make a photo, and often ...
23/03/2026

People, places, things. Venice.

A person, a place, a thing.

Still some of my favourite ways to make a photo, and often all a set really needs.

I’m going to start sharing more collections like this from different places. No big concept, no need to overcomplicate it, just simple groups of images built around the things I’m most naturally drawn to photograph.

Because sometimes photography doesn’t need to be deeper than noticing what keeps pulling you in, and making the photo.

Have a great week,

Gar

A collection of my favourite photographs I’ve made in England.And putting this together has been a quiet reminder that I...
14/02/2026

A collection of my favourite photographs I’ve made in England.

And putting this together has been a quiet reminder that I’ve only really scratched the surface. For someone based in Wales who spends a lot of time photographing there and in Scotland, my journey through England has been scattered. A few trips, a handful of mornings, moments where the light and weather aligned just long enough to leave an impression.

These islands have a particular kind of atmosphere. Four seasons that rarely behave, rain that comes and goes, and that soft light that follows in between. It shapes everything. The land, the towns and cities, the feeling of standing somewhere old and letting the conditions unfold in front of you. Photography becomes a way of paying attention to those shifts, to the way a place changes with mist, sun, or time of day.

Living this close to it all, I’m aware there are still vast corners I haven’t properly explored. Places I’ve passed through too quickly, landscapes I know more by reputation than experience. Even Ireland, just across the water, feels like an open invitation. The more I travel with a camera, the more geography turns personal. Places stop being names and start becoming memories tied to light, weather, and a specific moment I was lucky enough to witness.

Putting this set together feels less like a recap and more like a nudge to keep going. There is still so much to see across these islands, and that’s part of the appeal. The map is never finished. You just keep moving through it, slowly and attentively, letting each place leave its mark on you.

If you were chasing light and history with a camera somewhere in England or Ireland, where would you go next, and why?

Gar

Back in Lanzarote, walking ground that felt familiar and somehow completely new.
I’ve been here before, but this winter ...
11/02/2026

Back in Lanzarote, walking ground that felt familiar and somehow completely new.

I’ve been here before, but this winter version of the island surprised me. Greens pushing through the volcanic earth, soft light moving across the hills, and scenes that felt both distant and strangely relatable. A few places I found myself standing in the exact same spots as years ago, camera in hand, noticing how differently they met me this time.

Most of this trip I was finishing photos to share with the 85GMii . That set is coming soon. For now, these are a few frames made along the way, largely with the 35GM, small moments and wider scenes that stayed with me.

While working on that 85 set, I had one of the most unexpectedly wholesome moments I’ve experienced since picking up a camera. I’m really looking forward to sharing that soon.

A quiet return, and a reminder of why I keep coming back to places like this.

Join me in Madeira this November. A place to photograph the epic and the everyday. Full trip details via the link in my ...
09/02/2026

Join me in Madeira this November. A place to photograph the epic and the everyday. Full trip details via the link in my bio.

Mountains, mist, and moments in abundance. Madeira is a rare kind of landscape where wide scenes and small stories sit side by side, and you can move between subjects, perspectives, and focal lengths without ever feeling short of inspiration.

We’ll the time chasing light, responding to weather, and making photographs with intention. A small group, shared time, and a place that rewards curiosity and patience in equal measure.

If you’ve been thinking about joining, this is your reminder. Madeira, 2–7 November.

Gar

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