Crail, Fife

Having been busy with work related things for the last month it was great to make the most of a cold crisp Autumn day with a trip to the coast.

I had visited Crail on the coast of Fife several years ago, and I know that I had gotten some great photos from the harbour area. I had longed to revisit with a little more time and hopefully some blue skies to make make the most of the contrast between the buildings and the sky. As the day dawned cold and clear in Edinburgh, and with snow forecast in the Highlands meaning it was going to crisp and bright towards the east coast, now seemed a good time to make the trip.

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Crail is the most easterly settlement along the south side of the East Neuk of Fife and it known for its shellfish; especially crabs and lobsters. These provide an excellent focal point of harbour photography and are frequently utilised for coastal images in much of Scotland.

Only ten miles from St Andrews, it has a much more relaxed feel, and it is probably as much now a holiday or weekend retreat as anything else. Settled back before the 800s it became a Royal Burgh in 1310, thanks to Robert the Bruce. It was once the bane of the Church as it held a Sunday market for many years in spite of their protestations and attempts to move it to a weekday.

The town is fairly interesting, but similar to a lot of small Fife coast towns, and it is the harbour that holds the main attractions for the photographer.

The harbour is best reached on foot after parking in the town centre, and this will involve a fairly brisk descent, although the cobbles can be avoided by taking the Castle Walk where you will get great views out to sea.

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It’s worth watching for seals and birdlife. Here a Grey Heron is trying his luck
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Visitors on Castle Walk as seen from the harbour cobbles

Although Castle Walk remains, sadly the castle itself does not. Cleared away in 1706, it is, from a purely photographic point of view, a bit of a disappointment not to have it to add into the scene. But, there are still a lot of wonderful opportunities for photographs around the harbour and town.

There is almost an element of film set about the harbour, and the quaint houses leading to it are appealing in themselves. The cobbles and painted buildings also appeal.

A number of small on-shore fishing boats still work out of the harbour, and there is a ready supply of crab and lobster which can be purchased. The town also boasts a number of small cafes as well as the fish and chip shop, mini-marts, and butchers.

It is a perfect retreat location that is ideal for a romantic getaway, or a day trip, and it convenient to Edinburgh and most of Fife itself.

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Dull grey overcast skies? So what, you’re a photographer aren’t you…

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The day had started off quite promising, but the wind strengthened and turned to the north west. It got progressively stronger and progressively colder on the Moray coast as the weather poured in, threatening us with more gales, more sleet, more ice, and (potentially) even some more snow. The sky was pretty boring, and mainly shades of steel, and the light was fading faster than anyone wanted. But…if you’re a photographer, in Scotland of all places, you should be able to cope with a little unfavourable light and some generally unpleasant weather.

Did we turn for home? Did we heck!

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That dull, boring, grey sky created a diffused light perfect for capturing details – shapes, shadows, colours, textures – these are the things you shoot on dull grey days with steel skies.

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The secret is too pick the location, pick the subjects well, and exclude those skies from your compositions.

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Look for natural colours and amazing (and sometimes even odd) details. Choose your location based on the potential for natural colours and irregular textures, and you can’t go wrong. There will always be something to photograph!

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With modern cameras you don’t need to be afraid of the ISO, just use a standard lens, a standard zoom, or a macro, or anything you like really, because your equipment isn’t as important as your ability to see images in front of you.

Use a tripod to get the balance between slow shutter speeds and reasonable apertures, remembering that water moves, and make the most of the abilities of your camera to record details.

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Look for odd things in the natural environment, the way that sand and rocks have moved and are being eroded, or how sand is left in ruts and turns or on rocks.

It’s all about excluding the bland and focussing on the details of the subject, which is, what grey dull light is really great for.

 

New Year – New Skye

I know, I know, you don’t have to remind me. Yes, I said I was done with the Isle of Skye. Too many tourists, too many photographers, too many images splashed about all over the internet. Done to death…or so I thought.

But sometimes you get an invitation you just cannot resist…

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I have never been one for following the crowd like sheep, although for some reason I frequently find them endearingly photogenic. It is very true that I had indeed had quite enough of Skye after my fifth visit of 2017; jostling with the tourists, and swearing loudly as they, in the main, continue to demonstrate that they have no idea how to drive on a single track road, or deal with the said sheep.

(Helpful tip – just drive at them, they move)

I had got this chance to see a part of Skye that, aside from one particular lighthouse, is not really part of the tourist trail. It is too far for the casual tourist, doesn’t attract the serious hillwalkers or climbers, and from initial inspection of an OS map doesn’t appear to hold anything that might attract the photographer either.

But, my invitation wasn’t to Blythe the photographer, or Blythe the writer, but to Blythe the soul within. Photography was just a bonus and so, from that point of view, I had no expectations or pre-planned desires. I was, an open book, waiting for something to fill the pages.

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Neist Point – and that particular lighthouse

The weather was what you’d expect from Skye in winter – it was cold, wet, snowing in the mountains, and just…well…fairly crap everywhere else.

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Although it did give us a rainbow or two, from the warmth of the cottage.

I first went out to Skye before the New Year, on one of those non-days that occur between the festivities of Christmas and the celebrations that greeted the start of 2018.

It was completely unexpected, but quite delightful, and although I only stayed the one night (having been partially rescued from the icy roads, and having abandoned, ie. safely parked in a bay) my car near the Sligachan Inn, the trip provided me with a view of Skye I had not seen before. It also provided me with delightful company, and the invitation to return for the Hogmanay.

The weather at home was a passable coldness, with light snow and nothing to worry about, the weather at the remote NW of Skye was equally even handed, but the weather in the middle of the two was ice and snow, and many degrees below freezing. I had planned to stay at the Cluanie Inn on that first night, but it was shut and I was faced with the (to be honest not very) difficult choice of a night away or a potentially hazardous journey after dark. Sometimes you just have to go with your gut instincts.

I was supposed to travel back again on the 31st but would I make it? The forecast was for more snow, more ice, more very low below freezing temperatures, and you only get one shot every 12 months to start a New Year. There was only one thing for it, to return on the 30th, a day early. I made it in before the snow came down in the heavy falls that beset the roads again, driving with the snow chasing my tail all the way from Drumnadrochit to the Skye Bridge.

Folk think when they reach the bridge they are best part there, but in truth Skye is a bigger island that many give credit for, and it can take the same time again to reach your final destination. From Broadford the weather sort of improved; from the cold ice and snow to a cold rain and hail. I took the Slig’ turning for Dunvegan and moved westwards to find, thankfully, much less snow and ice than had caught me out on the preceding Wednesday.

On reaching Dunvegan I was then back to that unloved single track for the last of the stretch through Glendale and onto the wee township of Milovaig (upper, lower and what is just Milovaig – although could be called middle). I still haven’t completely worked out which is which, or when exactly each one becomes the other. That’s Skye all over…lowers are physically higher than uppers, middles don’t seem to have “middle” names, and house numbers don’t even always run in the same direction! Not that anyone puts a number on their door to give you a clue anyway…

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The roads are broken and potholed on much of Skye and the damage done on my first trip, with a stone chip to my windscreen, had expanded under the heat of the car to a two foot crack across the bottom of my windscreen. Not to worry, its not in the line of sight and it can be replaced, at the end of winter, when the chance of repeating the process lessens a little. Be warned, there are stones flying on Skye right now…oh, and take your wellies, the burns are in spate and walking boots are useless.

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The wonder of winter on Skye is the ever changing light. You can watch unimaginable combinations of colours and see the light pick out contours you cannot normally see. Contours that unless you frequently walk the hills, the mountains, the glens, and the steep sea cliffs you might not appreciate even by looking at the map.

In winter the air clears, and as it bites into your flesh, you can see for miles; to the neighbouring island of Harris, with its mountains clad in fresh white coats of snow, and the lower hills of the long island chain of the Uists. From there, it is ocean until you reach the coast of the USA. The Atlantic, stretches across this part of the planet and brings you weather into the North and Western straths of Skye that creates a microclimate that can be radically different from the rest of the island. Although, I would add, that I did take thermals…

It can be much, much, windier, but it can also be quite a bit warmer than even ten miles to the east or the mainland of Western Scotland. It is also, frequently wetter, and wet was a constant companion on every day of the trip. But it also brought with in the light, the wonderful soft, pastels and deep infused colours.

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Walking down to the pier in the morning you could watch the sun rise and the light play across the landscape, ever changing the colours of the heather clad hills, the rocks of the cliffs, and the clouds dancing above. No two mornings, in fact no two moments, were ever the same. You couldn’t just the potential of a day from looking out the window, as it would change in a heart beat or just a few miles.

As the light constantly changed, it was a landscape photographers delight and nightmare in one gift. You have to watch and wait, but not too long or you will miss the moment, you have to prepare but no so long you get cold or soaked, you have to accept the cold, the wind, the rain, and the mud. But the rewards for doing so are worth the moments of discomfort (and the laundry).

Whatever you wear it will not be enough – the rain will find the way around the neck of that waterproof, the burns will come atop your boots, the wind will bite into your hands, nose, and without a decent your ears.

I stayed from the 30th until the morning of the 4th, experienced a wonderful New Year’s eve and took off out to photograph aspects of Skye on all of the first three days of 2018.

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A little bit of irony

I got to see some entertaining and amusing sights, spent the 2nd of January in a largely closed Portree with only a bookshop and the Co-op open for company.

I got to see the light poke it’s slender fingers through the sky to mock the ocean by Neist Point, and to return to the Fairy Glen (near Uig) and try, once again, to capture the wonders of the landscape with only a short day and a limited amount of light.

ST0RM__0BS0151Because of the high side to the glen the sun disappears right behind it a good hour before it goes from the rest of the sky. It plunges you into gloom before you can barely find your best spots. You have to be ready, for the moments of light will not last long, and the land is camouflaged in colour, one conical hill against another, so that although it is quite marvellous it is very hard to do it justice.

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It is very popular with visitors, at all times of the year, and you either wait for (sometimes) hours for them to all remove themselves from your shot, or just use them in your images to convey the sense of scale and go with the flow.

The Fairy Glen has been the stuff of legend for millennia, and whilst the workings within are more than likely those of man and woman, it is hard not to see why and how the place got its name.

Could I fall in love with Skye all over again? Maybe.

Maybe like any long term relationship there are moments where you question what you are doing together before you reach into your hearts and find the things that hold you together are stronger than the things that are pulling you apart.

2018 got off to a wonderful start, for many reasons. Long may the passions continue, the senses be stirred, and may my love affair with Skye be have been rekindled once again.

Slip sliding away in the Cairngorms with Billy and my (almost) new Nikon D800

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It was a fabulous day, cold, but fabulous.

Getting to Aviemore wasn’t the level of difficulty I was expecting. The roads were well gritted and quite fine to drive on at a decent speed, even in the darker and colder spots. The problem was that not everyone seemed to realise this, and so I spent the whole the journey in a convoy of trucks doing no more than 40mph. It was almost as bad on the way home.

The side roads, and the minor roads, were still covered in snow and underneath was a lethal layer of ice, but if you kept to those that were gritted and most well used it was easy to travel. Getting on and off of the car parks was a bit more interesting, but the main road in and out of Aviemore from the North was fine. There was no point in rushing though as there was no way to overtake the convoy.

I got there around 11am, desperate for tea and a pee, to be stung for £4.80 for a cup of Earl Grey and a small piece of cake, and that’s on top of £1 to park the car to eat it.

I moved on from Glenmore Forest Visitors Centre, the culprits of this high charged refreshments, and then parked on the verge, thankfully knowing where the parking spots are under the snow and ice and where it was safest to do so. One pound for an hour parking? It’s as bad as parking in the city.

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There were a few people out, and everyone of them seemed to be carrying a tripod. I had hardly had an original idea.

I got to work quickly because although the light was just what I wanted I knew it would be disappearing all too soon.

As we approach the Winter Solstice the working day for photography in the Highlands and North East of Scotland is really quite short. It has its advantages because you don’t need to get up at some ungodly hour to catch the sunrise, or the best of the light. The sun is never that high in the sky to remove all the shadow and spoilt the points of interest, and being weak it is often a warm light. Unlike your feet and hands if you stand too still for too long.

The ducks on Loch Morlich are a wise and talkative bunch; no sooner had a photographer appeared and the host flew over to demand feeding. Disappointed. they would then return to the unfrozen shallows in the sheltered part of the loch and await their next hope.

Loch Morlich overlooks the Northern Corries of Cairngorm, including the ski-centre, and the snow was majestic. The sunlight on it was lighting up the slopes and defining the shapes in the faces of the mountains, which the darkness of the rock usually obscures. Given the light, I shot with a view to capturing the scene in colour but when I got home I realised it would look good in mono’.  The advantage of shooting Raw is that you retain this choice, and I have processed images as both.

At the moment it is taking me quite a bit longer to process my images, as I struggle to get to grips with Affinity Photos after the simplicity of Lightroom. I miss being able to get a light-box display of all the images in the folder and then easily moving from one to another. In Affinity Photo I have to individually open each file into Develop, then from the processed Raw move into the main image processing space. At least Adobe make Bridge free now and this enables me to see large enough previews of the image to determine the keepers. I hope that Affinity will come up with something like Lightroom as their Photo app is more akin with Photoshop itself, but with additions normally associated with Lightroom.

I was really happy with the 3 Legged Thing Punks Billy, which is easy to operate even with winter gloves on. I use Sealskinz gloves, which I find warm enough without being bulky. Although having leather palms they aren’t perhaps the most environmentally friendly, they do grip well even in the cold and wet.

This outing was the first since I replaced my Nikon D600 with the D800. I had had some issues with oil and dust which meant I had spent a lot more time retouching dust spots from images than I would have liked. I returned my D600 under it’s used warranty and replaced it with an almost mint Nikon D800.

The D800, purchased used from Ffordes, was great. Having the larger pixel count meant that I was able to then crop images much more radically than before.

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Even using just half the original image frame, I still had an final image with sufficient information, and pixel resolution, to print to a decent size. The image above was shot in portrait and cropped pretty much across the middle, leaving this the top half. I initially thought I wanted the grass in the foreground but decided against it, and I didn’t take a lens long enough to capture just the area of the frozen loch that I envisaged in the final image.

I was also amazed by the level of detail and the way the ice crystals sparkle towards the top of the frame. I am also impressed with the lack of noice even at high resolution. Earlier this week I had been out as the sun dropped and captured an image using ISO3200 which I would never have thought of as more than a record shot before. It is perfectly useable and appears on my Instagram and Twitter feeds as well as my Facebook page, but I think I could probably get away with printing it to A4 at least if not A3.

As can be expected at this time of year in the mountains the light faded quickly, and my idea to go to more than one location was written off. The sun rapidly sank behind the hills and the (photographic) day was pretty much over.

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One last shot and it was time to head home and in another long, slow, crawl behind more lorries and nervous car drivers.

I understand that it snowed later that evening, and the temperatures plummeted further below freezing. It had not got above -4C all day, but this is nothing compared to the winters past where temperatures like this would last for weeks on end.

It is quite funny that many of Scotlands ski centres have just taken delivery of snow making machines that they are struggling to get into position, because of the snow…

The last time we had a white Christmas, and a long period of snow, was the winter of 2009/10, one which holds some very precious (and highly entertaining) memories for me. Perhaps this year will see a repeat of those conditions?

But this time I hope I don’t get snowed out for three whole weeks!!

 

 

 

Goodbye Adobe (updated)

Well I did it. I cancelled my Adobe Photographer’s package subscription at the point of renewal. As I mentioned in a previous post, I am not happy to work from the cloud because it simply isn’t practical in the Highlands of Scotland where we struggle to get a mobile signal let alone wifi.

I have not been a fan of the subscription model, and being tied into a monthly contract for 12 months, ever since it was launched. Whilst I do appreciate it spreads the cost, you are then tied to it. I also resented being tied to Photoshop when I only need Lightroom, which was always the much cheaper free standing package.

So, what will I be using? Affinity Photo.

I have this on my iPad Pro and it’s superb. It almost makes me want a bigger iPad, as in one with more storage, so that I can use the pencil features. The desktop version I will have to get used to, and after over 25 years with Adobe it will be a big shift.

I might regret it, or it might be liberating. If I regret it then I can always take a new subscription with Adobe in due course, but at least I would do so knowing that I had given it a go without.

Update 17/12/18

I have to say that after a couple of days processing two shoots (from Raw) with Affinity it is a good replacement for Photoshop but it doesn’t replace Lightroom. It is very difficult to accurately assess images without opening each one individually as it has no catalogue feature. I have downloaded Adobe Bridge, which is free, but it feels like too much of a compromise and increase in workflow.

I also find Affinity is very power hungry on the computing front and this means I have to wait for transitions to take place more than I did with Lightroom.

It has slowed my workflow down, and sometimes I am not noticing things until well into the edit which I would have seen immediately and corrected (like minor lens distortions). It probably doesn’t help that I have just moved to the D800 and am dealing with bigger files with more definition.

I have now downloaded a trial of On1 Photo Raw 2018 for 30 days to see if this is better suited. I still like Affinity on the iPad Pro, and I can see uses for it, but more for Photoshop than Lightroom type edits. I, as an ‘right in-camera’ type shooter that doesn’t use special effects, don’t really use Photoshop that much, it was Lightroom that I used most so I feel there is more work to be done.

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Processed from raw with Affinity Photo
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Processed from raw with On1 Photo Raw 2018

 

Getting lost out West – or how to photograph something not intended, and getting a better picture for it.

I started writing this from the next paragraph, thinking it started off with getting a bit lost on the walk but actually it all started going wrong the day before we left home. You see, I had it in mind to photograph a glen near to Inverness but couldn’t get hold of the campsite. Having left messages, I had pretty much abandoned the idea of the trip when, after lunch, I stumbled across a website featuring some cabin like chalets out by Ullapool. A phone call later and I have never packed the car so quick. So, you see, it didn’t start with the walk and getting lost at all I have now realised, but anyway, that’s how I’m starting or second starting this post.

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It all started with a walk, just following the way marked signs until there were…well, no signs. How odd, I said, Patches didn’t care either way, a walk is a walk, is a new experience of new smells, and new things to pee up.

We kept going, going, and going, up slowly, slowly up, always up. There had to be a sign here at some point, perhaps when we next needed to turn? Then, nearly at the end of the track there was a view of Beinn Dhearg: Rising out up out of the misty distance, it’s head almost in the clouds. Quite unexpected but appreciated, from a photographic point of view, even it it meant we had of course gone the wrong way.

Definitely not the way marked Green path for a few short miles in a circle back to the car park. We must have missed the turn…

We had of course. We retraced our steps, something that confuses Patches no end because walks should not feature the same bits twice in his book. From the other side, I spotted the one foot high sign behind the two foot high tree! The little trees obviously weren’t there when it was put up. Back tracking we had found our way back onto the Green route and around the circuit we had originally intended. But, if we hadn’t got a little lost then we wouldn’t have had the view…

Patches should have pee’d up the “missing” sign for good measure but he didn’t.

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The second day was wetter. A drive further north was on the table, if no other reason that something to do to scout out potential images for another, later, visit. This would take us past Ardvreck Castle, and I have already photographed this ruin from several angles, so I had to find something new if I was to make the most of the few minutes break in the rain.

Opposite the castle is a burn, or stream if you prefer the English. It runs into Loch Assynt under the road bridge and a small older bridge. As it had rained heavily during the night making the stream move at a good pace, and the result of this was a series of small waterfalls as it crashed down a small gully from the hill above. The waterfall was my original intention, but it was difficult to get into a position where I could get all the cascades cleanly, without the trees cutting across most of the view.

I love that these trees are still here, as this is what it would have looked like, with many more of them of course, when the castle was in use. Frustrated at not having a clean shot, I turned around, and making my way back to the car, the light was simply fantastic. But I was walking towards the sun, into direct sunlight, with a low sun that would be full in view. But, although it meant shooting directly into the sun with my ultra-wide angle I simply couldn’t resist, if I could find the exact right spot…

And there, a moment or two later, it was presented before me; the view I wanted. The castle from a new angle, the light being magical, the mists lifting from the rains, the wet autumn leaves of the twisted ancient tree. Everything I wanted, in a moment, and all because I turned around, took the rule book, and threw it out the window.

Two mishaps, or unintentional opportunities – resulting in two good shots. Would my luck run to a third? They say things run in threes, but normally those are bad things. My bad luck things seemed to be turning into good luck things so anything could happen.

The weather had started to clear, the sun had came out, the clouds were mostly lost, and it was time to call it a day. Let’s head back to the accommodation, I can have a cup of tea, check the forecast and plan the next move. Patches could have a sleep, as is befitting of a little old man that he is.

Returning to the cabin, I couldn’t believe my luck again! The isle had created its own weather system and it was hugging just the top of the mountain. Isle Martin presented itself with a little crown of cloud, and the yacht bobbed gently in the windswept sea. Daisies still flowered on the foreshore, in spite of it being late October, and so the three elements of the best of images, foreground, mid-ground, and background all presented interest that would stand in it’s own right. I was, in heaven.

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And so was Patches, with lots of stinky seaweed to explore (although thankfully not roll in) and more things to pee up.

I’m not a fan of ‘chocolate box’ photography and I had hoped for some more interesting skies later, but I was still thinking the best of the day maybe was over. I couldn’t repeat this luck forever.

The night was wet and windy. We hankered down in the cabin, me with a glass of wine and the large screen TV, and both very glad not to be stuck in the usual tent.

The third morning dawned yet wetter still. I pottered. I drank tea. Then suddenly the wind dropped completely. There was a moment, just a moment, to run out the door and take some shots of the loch again. The midges were out. It’s October I decried! Midges should not be out in late October! I got two bites to the left cheek, and one on the other left cheek, if you know what I mean…

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The clouds broke up and I hoped the day might improve. I wandered about for a short time waiting for the clouds to lift, which they didn’t, but the calmness of the early morning make the flections worthy of an image. Patches explored, as usual. The world must be a sensory overload to a dog sometimes.

I often wonder if he thinks we move house a lot or if he knows the difference between holiday and home.

Back inside again, really just moments later, watching the now steel grey of the loch being pounded by raindrops the size of the small arms fire. It didn’t look good and I only had two full days. Hours later it hadn’t change, and there I was wasting one of my previous days sitting watching rain out of a cabin window! As the rain eased slightly, at least for what would be a few precious dry moments, it became enough to get into the car without getting soaked. I decided we should scout for future locations.

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Patches isn’t really good at scouting. He just sleeps on the back seat and whines when he wants a pee, but we drove north, chasing the pockets of sunlight against the ruggedness of the mountains. The wind increased again, and the rain lashed it down against the car windscreen. I felt that all was lost for the day, and after around 50miles we turned back. Suddenly, on the return leg of the, so far fruitless drive, the sun broke through in just one spot against the imposing sky and the steel grey lochs. It lasted merely seconds and I was very, very, lucky to be right near somewhere to stop and park, just at that single moment. Just as the sun hit the centre spot in the cleft of the mountains. That really doesn’t normally happen, honest. Any landscape photographer will tell you about the hours of waiting for the light to move, or even just to appear.

It was a four day trip that could have resulted in very little by way of images, except that for everything that seemed to be going wrong actually made it so very right. Getting off the Green track onto the mountain track presented me with a view of a mountain that would otherwise have remained unseen, in light that was tricky, but also “to die for”. Ignoring all the rules and shooting into the light gave me an image of the burn, the castle, and of the weather itself, that I would otherwise have never captured. Nearly slipping on my backside presented me with an angle and the best photo. Going back early thinking the shoot was over gave me a view of Isle Martin and the shoreline, with the added attraction of the perfect yacht, and the perfect cloud. Trying to ignore the midges and the bad weather gave me a shot of the loch in harmony with the elements.

And, driving around for five hours in the pouring rain paid off with one moment of glory, and a right place, right time moment that will stay with me forever.

At the end of the third day I had gone the wrong way again and found myself driving back alongside Loch Assynt, again, from Lochinver having decided (my memory failing me on the nightmare of the road) to detour to Drumbeg because a sign said viewpoint.

If anyone tells you the road to Applecross is a nightmare, then tell them to try the B869 from the Kylesku and Unapool end going towards Drumbeg and then to Lochinver.

Having survived the road, I stopped by the end of Loch Assynt nearest to Lochinver and revisited the fairly famous strand of trees. It was looking a little dilapidated compared to previous images I have taken in the area and as I stepped out the car into a large, and unavoidable, puddle I thought it too late to change into wellington boots. I rounded the end of the parking area and squelched my way down the slope. Now sinking slowly but surely into the mire my right foot was truly soaked and the left was rapidly attempting to copy it.

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I grabbed a few images as it started to rain again.

Jumping back into the car, which had steamed up in my absence thanks to Patches snoring gently from the back, it was heater on, half on my feet and half on the windscreen, and a short and pleasent drive back to the accommodation. It was time for tea and to pack up a bit, ready for the longer drive home tomorrow.

The final day, the drive home, I had envisaged going an different way and hoping for more sights of lochs and mountains but instead was treated to miles of endless peat bog, undulating but fairly featureless, on a single track road with no parking, only passing, places. It rained, then it stopped, then it clouded, then the light was fantastic for a few moments, before it clouded over and it rained again. I was missing the best light by being in a fairly boring landscape, with nowhere to stop even if I did see view worth an attempted shot.

My luck had to run out somewhere, and I guess day four was going to be it. A quiet drive home, followed by a lot of washing, and a feeling I wasn’t going to have anything really worthy of the trip…

It is so hard to see what you get from the screen on the back of the camera, and even when you think  the shot was good you can often be sadly disappointed.

As I opened the files on the computer, the magic happened again, and I realised that not playing by the rules, being wrong, or being lost, of being unintentional, the trip had given me images I couldn’t have planned but only dreamed of.

Photography is about light, sometimes you get it, sometimes, more times, you don’t. Sometimes though, you do. 🙂

And sometimes, getting lost out West and photographing things you didn’t intend to result in photos that are all the better for it.

Patches and I stayed here

Dead Fridges, Sinks, and Drawers

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It always amazes me what people just jump over fences and where they think nobody is looking. It saddens me also.

All of these appliances were dumped in what appears to be a building of potentially historical significance, and right next door to a family holiday park. They were clearly visible to anyone walking to and from the site to the beach via the side pathway, which also gives very popular views of the lighthouse.

 

End of the affair – how I fell out of love with the Isle of Skye

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Sunset on the first evening, following a day of rain and storms.

After 20 years, my love affair with Skye has, I think, now ended. It is not the island, and it is not the people, it is the crowds.

I arrived in pouring rain, which isn’t unusual for anything on the western most side of Scotland, and the next day, with it forecast to be in for the whole day, took a trip into Portree for supplies.

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A short circular walk from Portree take you to views of Dun Caan, past the memorials for the Nicolson/McNeacail clan, but sadly it is cut short at this point due to a landslip.

Skye has become a victim of its own success, attracting over 60,000 visitors for the August bank holiday weekend alone (according to a resident).  The roads, mainly single track with passing places, just cannot cope. Even if the visitors knew how to drive on them…and too many don’t. Without the docking cruise ships, even with just the coaches, the line for the only ladies toilets stretched for over 60 people and part way around the town. When finally you could get a seat, as it were, the result was barely tolerable, and a long way from pleasant. But at least Portree has toilets…

The third day, my second full day on the island, and looking slightly at slightly more promising weather, I set off the most northerly point on Skye – Rubha Hunish on the Trotternish peninsula. After getting my boots nearly sucked off my feet in the boggy terrain following the lines of walkers to ever nook and cranny, I had wished for my wellies! I also wished it hadn’t rained for days beforehand, and quite a few less people.

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The Lookout; ex-Coastguard station and now Mountain Bothy Association open shelter.
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Looking out The Lookout towards the Outer Hebrides in the rain.
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Now that Trotternish is blessed with 4G (albeit intermittent and only recent acquisition), I wonder if the landline phone still works?
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Rubha Hunish points towards the Uists, with views also of the bottom of the Isle of Harris, and on a clear day, potentially, the Isle of Lewis.
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The fireplace that isn’t, and the interesting book collection (a bible, a German philosopher, and a guidebook to Fungi to mention just three).

The walk is an out and back, which means retracing your steps and trying to keep your boots about you when all about you are losing theirs…

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The Northern end of the Trotternish ridge.

…takes you past a cleared village, and on to meet a sheep sank at the “main” road.

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Sheep station, or sank, by the start/end of the walk.
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The main road from the carpark, and the reminder of a time now gone when red phone boxes were needed, and a passing place would illicit a courteous wave.

Just along the road a bit further is the Skye Museum of Island Life – a collection of Blackhouses showing the islands way of life through the ages.

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Blackhouse
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The reconstruction within this Blackhouse shows how up to ten people, including children, would share a space with box beds. It was quiet, warm, and felt comforting and safe, as the wind was howling again from the north, blowing rain into the face when outside.
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A 150 year old loom which was still being used up until the mid 1950s – Skye residents are still multifaceted with many doing more than one job to provide and income. This is true of most island residents throughout the Scottish isles.
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Replica shop in another Blackhouse.

I was particularly moved by a series of letters from Johnnie dating back to WWI and on display in the final Blackhouse. There was one about him shipping out with his chums to France, and another thanking his sister for her parcel, which had reached him at the front. He said she could put in some tinned Salmon, or Sardines, next time if she felt inclined.

Sadly, Johnnie would never receive the second parcel as the third piece of paper on show is the notification from Kitchener’s war office. Johnnie had been Killed in Action just three days after writing his letter to his sister.

………………………

The next day, the weather forecast was terrible so I decided to explore nearby Camas Mor. Just a few minutes drive from the accommodation it was a lovely bay, small harbour, and was well served by a parking area with bins, two bench seat and tables, and a magnificent view. I would have been perfect it here had been a toilet, but as the residents of Skye will tell you, the Council is not inclined to providing (m)any facilities.

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Camas Mor
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Looking towards the Hebrides again, this time from near Camas Mor.

It proved to actually be the best weather day of the entire trip! Sadly, by the time I realised it wasn’t going to get better it was too late.

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The Lily at Camas Mor.

The day was not wasted, although the birds were nowhere to be seen, and the hoped for wildlife of seals, dolphins, and even whales, never appeared either: Just three Cormorants and a few assorted gulls to show for the hours of patient watching, plus some photos too, of course.

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Hand of God?

Driving back a slightly different route, following the grid pattern of small roads, took me past a derelict church which still had some sections of plaster and painted murals covering the remains of the walls.

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Lovaig Bay and the “Coral” Beaches – made from small shells and calcified seaweed.

The final day of the trip and I was desperate for a walk which wouldn’t be a quagmire, after the days of continual rain. I headed, along with a hundred or more other people (and I don’t exaggerate here) towards Dunvegan. Passing by the castle I hoped the beaches would be quieter and on arriving there was a space or two in the car park. By the time I had walked the 4 miles to the far end of the bay and back I was nearly boxed in by some bad parking to the front, a tree to the rear, and unable to open the passenger door for the inconsiderate parking of the neighbour. Almost every car in the place had a ’17’ plate and a sticker on the fuel filler cap reminding the driver what to fill it up with. According to the residents I spoke to, almost every car you see between 7am and 7pm is a hire car. Or a camper van…

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Waves at Lovaig Bay.

My dog ran into the waves, got soaked right over, and came out grinning (Staffordshire Bull Terriers not only have the ability to ‘smile’ but also seem to have very good comic timing and a well judged sense of humour. My first one used to go and sit on the lino’ in the hall when he wanted to fart because it made it much louder…no kidding).

When I got my current squeeze, he was terrified of everything and that including the sea. Now, four years later, he can’t wait to get his paws wet. Watching his shear joy and exuberance of running into the waves made the whole trip, and even the bad weather worth it, but I am sure there were less people in Edinburgh during the Fringe than there was on the Isle of Skye last week.

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The End