In 2011 I was a member of a Camera Club. During the summer we met once a week in the evening to go on location. There were normally about fifteen of us and the locations weren't always that exciting because where can you go at 7pm on a Tuesday night, when the light is usually not that great, bearing in mind people have to get home from work and eat and then get to the location.
Half a mile from my house right in the middle of the countryside was a scrapyard, it's unusual location being the result of a change of direction by a farmer back in the early twentieth century who decided to diversify.
Although mostly hidden by trees, what you couldn't hide was the scrap pile which towered over the site and always fascinated me. I later discovered that when it got really tall it was an indication that metal prices were low and conversely the day it disappeared they had risen. So every day on my way to work I had my very own three dimensional graph spike telling me how the markets were doing, except the graph hitting a peak was bad news not good.
For years I was itching to get in there to take photos. But how do you get permission to wander around a dangerous (and I mean seriously dangerous) site like this with the freedom to go where you like and photograph what you like?
The answer turned out to be simple. After sounding out the club members as to how many were interested, because you never know, it might just be me interested in taking pictures of rubbish, it turned out there were a few of us who liked the idea. So I tracked down the owner by phone and arranged to see her. You weren't expecting her to be a her were you?
Not only did the woman agree to let us all in in the evening when the site was closed she was actually really enthusiastic and all she requested was that we act like adults and don't go climbing up stuff, and let her have a selection of our best photos after the event. She actually lived right next door and it was her family's business and very proud of it too. And the terrifying junkyard dog? What a softie, once we had all been sniffed he carried on his patrols.
So never be afraid to ask and always prepare for rejection. Maybe that's a general rule for life.
I will cut the chatter and let the photos do the talking. Oh, and the normal fifteen attendees on a Tuesday night? It turned out to be more like 15 cars which we barely got through the gates with over thirty people. So it seems almost everyone loves taking pictures of rubbish.