One of the great advantages of working in North Wales is that it provides countless opportunities for photography after work.
One of the great disadvantages of a working in North Wales is that occasionally the weather decides to impersonate the Mediterranean while simultaneously providing enough midges to feed a small nation.
This week in Trawsfynydd has been one of those weeks.
I normally spend my evenings studying maps, watching weather forecasts and convincing myself that carrying several kilograms of camera equipment up a hill is a perfectly sensible recreational activity.
This week I have mostly been studying the weather forecast, deciding it is far too hot, and then watching clouds appear just as I have finally settled into a chair.
To make matters worse, the local midges seem to have developed an immunity to Smidge repellent. Either that or they see it as some sort of seasoning.
The bottle confidently claims it keeps the little monsters away.
The midges appear to have interpreted this as a challenge.
While I have been engaged in an increasingly one sided war against heat exhaustion and blood thirsty insects, Eddie (my dog, AKA 'The Rat') has adopted a completely different strategy.
He has simply stopped caring.
The evidence is overwhelming.
At one point I found him stretched across the sofa in a position that suggested he had worked a particularly difficult shift at the factory and required immediate recovery time. The sofa, several cushions and what appears to be half a sheep skin rug had become his personal relaxation suite.
Later, he upgraded his position and somehow managed to fall asleep upside down, displaying all four paws as if demonstrating complete trust in the universe and complete confidence that somebody else would deal with any problems that arose.
Meanwhile I was still trying to decide whether it was worth walking half a mile carrying a tripod.
The answer was usually no.
Even when Eddie was awake, he wasn't exactly rushing around. One evening he sat quietly on the decking staring towards a spectacular pink sunset spreading across the mountains beyond the trees. It was one of those moments photographers dream about.
I naturally began calculating lenses, compositions and exposure settings.
Eddie simply admired the view.
In hindsight, he may have been the wiser of the two of us.
Of course, there have been occasional attempts to venture out.
One wander through the woodland produced a wonderfully atmospheric old stile hidden amongst deep green vegetation and dappled sunlight. It looked mysterious, inviting and slightly magical.
It also looked like the sort of place where approximately seven million midges might be waiting for lunch.
I did take the photograph.
The midges took their payment.
Back at the lodge, Eddie continued refining his relaxation techniques.
There was the "head on cushion" method.
The "curled up on the blanket" method.
The "completely unconscious on the sofa" method.
And my personal favourite, the "buried under the duvet with only one eye visible" method, which suggested either supreme comfort or witness protection.
At this point I am beginning to suspect that Eddie has not come on holiday at all.
I think he may have checked into a luxury wellness retreat.
Every time I see him asleep he appears more refreshed than the last time.
By comparison, I am slowly turning into a human midge buffet with a camera.
The irony is that despite not taking nearly as many photographs as planned, I have probably documented the real story of the week rather well.
Landscape photography is often portrayed as dramatic adventures across wild mountains in perfect light.
The reality is frequently sitting in the shade, avoiding insects, waiting for temperatures to drop and watching your dog demonstrate professional levels of relaxation.
And if I'm honest, Eddie may have had the right idea all along.
The mountains will still be there tomorrow.
The sunset will happen again.
The midges will certainly still be there.
But a dog sleeping peacefully through a North Wales heatwave while his owner slowly melts into a garden chair might just be the most authentic photograph of the temporary exile.
