One of the wettest winters on record, and the moors were proving it. Not mildly wet — properly flooded, standing water across most of the flat ground with deep mud underneath. The kind of conditions where you don’t go anywhere near it without being properly covered up.
I had my full wading suit on: the Ocean Rainwear coverall, the older of the two I own. You can see in the footage that it’s had some use — there’s a patch on the knee and the logo is mostly cracked away. It still keeps me dry. That’s the only thing I need it to do.
The setup
This was before I’d invested in any decent camera equipment, so I had two old action cameras — cheap little things, sealed in waterproof cases. One clipped to the front of the suit for a chest-level view, the other on a GorillaPod set close to ground level and pointing at a wide, deep muddy puddle. The cases do exactly what they’re supposed to in terms of keeping the water out, but they swallow most of the audio in the process. The footage from this day looks like what it is: a wet lens, murky visuals, the occasional muffled splash where there should be a proper squelch. Not ideal for the kind of sound work I want to do now, but it was the right kit for the budget at the time.
The moors themselves looked exactly the way they do in the middle of winter. Bare trees, bare ground, no vegetation worth mentioning, and the wind and rain doing their thing. There’s a stretch of this area that the local 4×4 off-road group use regularly, and in winter they tend to leave it in a state: tyre ruts, churned-up surface, standing water sitting over very soft mud. It looked rough and it was. It also made for a much better morning than a pristine dry field would have.
Into the mud
With the camera in position I didn’t have to go far before I was knee-deep. I found a good spot at the edge of the puddle and knelt down into it properly — the mud below the water line gives slowly when you push into it, and then the water closes back over your hands.
The suit has rubber gloves attached at the cuffs, which matters here. You can push your hands into the mud without anything getting under your fingernails or running up your sleeves, and there’s no reason to hesitate before doing it. I know it probably looks like a strange thing to do. Kneeling in a muddy puddle on a freezing morning isn’t most people’s idea of a good time. But there’s a very specific satisfaction to it: outside is rough and wet and cold; inside the suit you’re warm and dry. That contrast doesn’t really change, no matter how many times you do it.
From kneeling I moved to sitting properly in the puddle — legs out in front, arms in to the elbows. Settled in for a while.
I’d also buried a small bag of Lego figures in the silt before setting the camera up. Pushed them in and then had to find them again by feel, sifting through the mud by hand. It adds something to do and gives the hands-in-mud element a purpose beyond just sitting there. Whether it comes through on camera is another matter — with old kit in rain, on a murky day, it mostly didn’t. But the point isn’t really the footage.
The suit
The Ocean Rainwear coverall I’m wearing in this video is the most-used of the two. The knee patch has been there a while. The branding is mostly decorative at this point. I’ve had a few holes in the gloves over the years and sealed them with Storm Shore flexible sealant — a small blob over the hole, leave it to cure, done. The suit itself is still completely waterproof.
Winter on the moors: bare trees, torn-up ground, rain on the lens. None of it is welcoming. I want to go back.
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