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.

 

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Moray Coast Trail – Hopeman to Covesea

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The Moray Coast Trail, or Moray Coastal Trail (not even the council can decide what it’s called) stretches from Cullen in the east to Findhorn towards the west, along the coast of the Moray Firth.

Officially, it’s 50 miles but there are some arguments about that…

…anyway, over the past few months we, as in Patches and I, have been tackling it in nice bite sized sections at the weekends. Patches is a mature gentlemen, with a touch of arthritis, and so those bite sized chunks range from five to around nine miles. This is a bit of a misnomer though, as we walk each section as a there-and-back, so we might only cover 2.5miles of the trail, but we do it twice, in both directions seeing it from both views.

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Some sections are easier to walk than others, as it shares the route with sections of cycle trails and on disused railways, so sometimes a nice wide flat path is provided and sometimes you are on the “walkers path” and therefore going around the cliffs (and up and down thin tracks being scratched by scratchy shrub).

I had been looking forward to yesterdays section very much, because the map has the words ‘caves’ printed on it all the way. It did not disappoint, although the scratches from the scratchy bushes on the very enclosed sections might take a few days to heal.

All along the route there are coves and bays, some sand and some pebble. Some are easy to get to, and some are definitely not.

The whole route gives excellent views across the firth to the coast on the other side, depending on the weather of course, and you can often see dolphins, seals, and a large variety of birdlife.

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Not marked on the map is the old Coastguard lookout station, which you get to see from quite some distance when walking west to east, but then it pops up over the gorse and undulating cliff top at you if on the route east to west.

It is a shame that you can’t go in it, or that it hasn’t been co-opted into a bothy like the one on Skye. I image the view from the balcony at the top would be quite something.

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The route does indeed take you past a number of sandstone caves and rock formations, as promised on the map. These ones (above) are not far from the active quarry and are reasonably accessible, although two of the three paths down are much steeper than the west most one and great care is needed.

Popular with photographers, mainly due to the natural arch you can just see at the bottom of the photo (above), and the array of weather worn large round rocks which form a stunning collection of geological complexity (below), it is unlikely you’ll be alone here for very long.

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At weekends, it is possible to park near to the quarry entrance and just visit these caves, although this is certainly not recommended on weekdays when the lorries are going in and out, and care should be taken not to block access at ANY time.

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The quarry produces some very large pieces of sandstone, and whilst it may be a bit of a blight on the landscape, it does facilitate the degree of weekend parking which is helpful, as well as offering much needed employment.

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Towards the Covesea end of the walk, which can be extended easily to Lossiemouth if desired, there is the Sculptors Cave. This feature is clearly marked on the OS maps in the serif type usually reserved for ancient monuments so there is a deeply historical context, obviously. It isn’t actually possible to see Sculptors Cave from the walk, as you’re actually walking over it, but nearby natural arches and caves that you can see give you a teaser of what it could be like.

Luckily, the wonderful Canmore website can shed more light on this;

‘Finds from the Sculptor’s Cave dating from the Bronze Age to the 4th century AD, and including Iron Age pottery, are in the Elgin Museum.’

‘The most striking feature of the cave is the (formerly) substantial assemblage of human remains that was revealed in both programmes of excavation’

‘The possibility may be considered that there were two periods of deposition….the deposition of the remains of children, with some emphasis on the placing of heads at the entrance, and….the remains of several decapitated individuals. Concern with the removal, curation and display of human heads is a persistent trait across prehistoric Europe…’
(edited, removing technical references for ease of reading, by the photographer)

This exciting site certainly warrants a further expedition to photography the carvings at a later date.

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The caves and natural arches extend along the seaward side of the cliff and also under where the photographer is standing.

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The coast of the Moray Firth is still able to enchant and interest, even after more than 13 years of living beside it. The geology itself is varied and interesting, and the human history of the coast is just as fascinating.

The eastern side of Scotland is often overlooked by the rush to the west coast and the isles, and whilst this keeps it from being unpleasantly crowded, it is a disservice to what is a very worthwhile destination. The weather of Moray is far more stable, and frequently warmer and drier than the west, although the residents will still bemoan the lack of a “decent summer”. It also suffers considerably less from the issue of the Highland midge than it’s opposing neighbours.

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Although the walk was only around 5-6 miles in length, ignoring some exploratory detours, Patches certainly enjoyed the outing as much as I did.

Update Sunday 8th October: attempted today to get down to the Sculptures Cave from the cliff above. It was difficult is distinguish the right path and I tried finding a way down and back to it from different points. In the end I found what seems the most logical path but I was only brave enough to tackle the first section and was slipping in the mud from the last few days of rain. As I peered over the precipice and contemplated the leap across the missing rock section onto the second path I am afraid that I bottled it. The caves remain unexplored until I can tackle them from the bottom having walked there from the beach at the far Lossiemouth end. For this, I would want to be there as the tide was going out rather than after it had turned and was heading back in, as being cut off is a very serious proposition. Another time…

 

Findochty to Cullen with the Olympus PEN-F

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The Moray Coastal Trail runs from Forres in West to Cullen in the East, and is a long distance trail of around 50 miles, which isn’t a long long distance trail, but its not a day hike either. Although if you look at it in little sections, it provides a convenient path between the coastal towns and villages, an more convenient off-road route for cyclists, and a gentle stroll for those of us who are feeling a bit less committed that the long distance hiker. Being a bit noncommittal after two divorces, I have hiked almost all of it, also twice, because I’ve done it in sections as “there and back” outings.

It’s an ideal stroll as in many sections it uses bit of the old railway track, so it is often fairly level, but there are options to adopt a more robust and strenuous, “walkers only”, path along some sections of the clifftops. These routes drop in and out of many secluded bays, are generally longer, and also provide some wonderful experiences of the local geological features. It is also far easier to have a pee on them if you’re a woman because there are more places to hide your arse. For men, not so much of a problem.

The trail, or individual sections, can of course be walked in either direction, and as I go out and back sometimes I take the photos in the opposite order to the way I write about it because I like to enjoy the walk and then get the shots on the way back. But I am not going to bore you with showing you the same bits twice.

The slide show above features 10 images from the Findochty (pronounced Finichty or Finechty depending on if they come from Buckie or further along the coast) to Cullen section. Cullen is famous as the home of the original Cullen Skink; a rich creamy soup using smoked haddock pieces and potatoes, and comes highly recommended by the author 😉

A little about each picture:

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My walk started in Findochty harbour, which is where my post Wee Horses, Wee Boats sort of finished. Although the harbour is now used mainly by leisure craft, there are still some creel pot fishermen as shown in this photo. The bigger trawlers having moved to Buckie in the late 1800’s, where a deeper harbour could accommodate the ever larger vessels.

 

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The Moray Coast interests geologists, with many paying trips to examine the exposed Cullen Quartzite formations. Psammitic beds are interbedded with thinner pelitic beds, and other sedimentary features can also easily be seen right along the coast here. Evidently, we have evidence of crenulations cleavage, and even secondary cleavage (which doesn’t sound flattering to anything other than rocks), as well as garnets in quartzite rocks on sections of the coast near to Cullen itself.

The most famous rock formation on this section of the walk is Bow Fiddle Rock, which has quite frankly been “done to death”.

 

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Birds are singing

The weather was glorious the whole way along the coast, with birds singing in the gorse and plenty of birds and boats on the water. I was delighted to see, albeit briefly, a small pod of the Firth’s famous resident Bottlenose Dolphins on the return leg.

The coast always attracts a number of migrant birds during the Spring and Autumn, and it is not unusual for some real rarities to turn up.

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Portknockie harbour

Portknockie harbour is a two basin harbour with berthing for up to 50 boats. Now mainly used by pleasure craft and leisure fishermen, there is still a small industry of crab and lobster boats, although most are now part-time. It also boasts a salt water fed open-air swimming pool which can be seen in the left basin in the photo. The town of Portnockie is mainly situated above the harbour, on the cliff top, and overlooks it.

 

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The Fishermen’s Hall, Portknockie

The Fishermen’s Hall (this is the correct title as displayed on the name plaque), is believed to have been built in 1820. It was initially used a coal store by the Society of Fishermen (est. 1819), and started life as single storey with a thatched roof. It gained elevation and a state roof in 1842, and then to two full stories at the turn of the century. It has had a number of uses including hosting some notable local weddings during the mid-late 1800s. By 1994 it was is a poor state of repair, and the then owners Moray Council, put it up for sale. There was little interest until 2002 when it sold and the new owners sort permission to convert it into flats, but this was refused. It has been renovated, but to what end I am not sure. More info here

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Oceanic garage

Not actually sure if this is a garage or a shed, but basing my observation on the fact you could drive into it I’m calling it a garage. The residents of Portknockie are, rightly, proud of their beautiful coastal town, although more of a village, and work very hard to keep up appearances. Evidence of murals to the sea can be found tucked away throughout the town, including this garage, and the community has it’s own website and newsletter, although 2015 seems to be the last available online.

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Home of the Zulu

The Zulu design of fishing boat originated in Portknockie, and was the successor of the Fifie. The hull design came from nearby Lossiemouth, and this was developed into the Zulu craft (named after the war raging, at the time, in southern Africa).  Over 100 of these boats were built in this small rock cove, and it became a well respected design. Tragedy was often too common to sea faring communities, and a Portknockie boat, The Evangeline, was very sadly one of them.

 

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Approaching Cullen

There are two approaches to Cullen, one on the cycle path which takes you over the famous viaduct, and one which takes you along the cliff top and then down onto the beach. This photo was taken from the cycle path which goes over the viaduct on the old railway line. It was hot, I was lazy.

 

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Tee’s off for a song

Cullen Golf Course proudly states it is the ‘Worlds Shortest True Links Course’. Designed by Old Tom Morris as a 9-hole, it was later extended to 18 holes by local architect Charlie Neaves. Although the course is short, nestling alongside the beach between the cliffs and the viaduct, it has 18 challenging 3-par and 4-par holes in the most stunning location imaginable. Immaculately kept greens permit around 3-hours a round.

 

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Cullen from the old railway

Due to the weather being so warm (bordering hot), and unusually so for August in Scotland, I didn’t go right the way into Cullen itself as it was becoming a bit too much for my dog. We stopped on top of the famous viaduct a short way on from this last photo for lunch and then turned back. The wonderful things about this part of Scotland are the accessibility of the beaches, the light, and the skies. While I still have a preference for mountains and lochs, the coast doesn’t have the same issues with midges so that’s a definite bonus to time spent here.

 

The photography:

All the images were shot with my Cullen Golf Course, after all, that is in the sub-title of this blog site, and using either the Olympus Zuiko M.14-42mm/f3.5-5.6EZ ‘pancake’ lens or the Olympus Zuiko M.9-18mm/f4.0-5.6 lens. Both of these are easily pocket sized, and very light, with surprisingly good optical quality. The 14-42mm ‘kit’ lens often gets a very undeserved bad press and I have found it a surprising pleasure. But don’t take just my word for it; Robin Wong has an excellent article about the lens here.

All the images in this feature are jpegs shot in-camera with some additional cropping in Adobe Lightroom (LR) to give the required emphasis for the story I was creating. I have used the histogram, also in LR, to bring out the full range of tones, as I am still getting used to the customisation features of the PEN-F. As a result of this outing I have now made some further adjustments to the feature in the camera, mainly using the curves in-camera adjustment to increase the range of tones and contrast during future shoots. This shoot was done using the defaults in the Mono 1 creative mode with contrast set to neutral (default), and sharpening to +1. I have also applied a gentle Yellow filter, again in-camera, as a customisable option.

Due to the overall brightness of the shooting period (more on that below), I set the Exposure compensation to -0.3 to ensure the highlights were not blown out. I used Aperture Priority throughout the walk to keep things simple, and for some reason all the images I selected for this blog were shot at f10. This wasn’t deliberate, and I have shots taken at different apertures, the ones I liked most were all f10. Weird…

The camera was set to ISO200, and I didn’t find a need for a tripod even though I carried one. Image stabilisation was turned off throughout. The reason for this is two fold – firstly, I have never been a fan and I have found (previously with Nikon) that you can often get sharper images without it. I prefer to either raise the ISO, or use a tripod, when required. I cannot see how introducing movement, even microscopic movement, can make an image sharper and to me it is only worth using in very low light if you’ve really reached the reasonable limits of handholding/ISO/aperture of lens.

The second reason is that I find that the PEN-F gets notoriously warm with it switched on, especially around the handgrip, and turning it off stops this completely. There is an added bonus in that it also increases battery life. Of course, in the winter I might yet switch it back on and use the camera as a hand warmer….(kidding, fix please Olympus).

All the images in this entry were shot between 12.50 and 15.33 (I can be this exact because it’s in the file data) and on Sunday 27th August, 2017. This period of time is supposed to be the photographic desert period when nobody shoots anything due to the bright, unfavourable, light. The fact it was cloudy allowed some interest in the sky to be maintained, although the cloud was at times rather thin and widespread, but it reduced the need for graduated ND filters to a good degree. When the clouds were more compacted, ‘fluffy’, and therefore more interesting, the difference between the blue sky and the more broken clouds greatly improved the photographic opportunities. As a result, in these images I increased the amount of sky included. Photography is as much about what you leave out as what you include.

My preference for monochromatic images does also allow for more shooting at what is often viewed as a ‘bad’ time of day, but sometimes you just have to get what you can at the time, and I find the Olympus PEN-F allows me to do that. I don’t really think there is a ‘bad’ time for photography, you just have to adapt to the light you’re given or find a way to manipulate or compensate for it.

There are two very famous views of this area; the Cullen viaduct being one, and as I alluded earlier Bow Fiddle Rock being the other, but I have deliberately avoided these because I find they have become cliches. I had a conversation with the director of a local tourist body no so long ago and he said; “oh, god, if I have to see one more picture of Bow Fiddle flipping rock”.

Photographers can copy others, or write their own stories.

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3 Days of Skye – Day 2 (part 1)

Day 2 (Part 1)

Breakfast or Sunrise…Breakfast or Sunrise…Breakfast or Sunrise…?

That was the decision that faced me late on Monday night, as I set my alarm, in the Uig Hotel on the Isle of Skye. The photographer’s app’ on my phone wasn’t helping. It was clearly showing that the Quiraing would be a spectacular place to greet the morning sunrise, at 8am. Breakfast in the hotel was from 7.45-9.15 (I think).

To get into position I would have to get up around 6.00am, grab a quick tea and shower, and leave by 7am. Or that would appear to have to be the plan, but it would mean missing breakfast…and also…I am not a morning person.

After a nice beer battered fish-n-chips (a very good, if rather expensive, beer battered fish and less than 10 chips in a fancy basket thing) and just one pint of Skye Red, I went to bed. It was only 9.30pm, but if I was going to try for the sunrise, then bed it had to be. Since my surgery, I have to get up a least twice during the night, which is why I wasn’t using a hostel with a shared room, or camping. I am not sociable at night.

As it happened, I must have been a bit excited, or anxious, because not only did I get up just after midnight, and my usual 3.30am, but I then woke up (proper wide awake) at 5.15am. I didn’t get up at 5.15am of course, but at least I was awake. Nice bed, warm, cosy, oh look, tea…

Finally, outside, just before 6.45am, it was cold, very cold, and a bit windy, again. I know you’re thinking, it is February, it is Scotland, just get on with it.

The road was ‘interesting’ in that it went up into the ridge near the Quiraing, and then down a series of hairpin bends into Staffin. As I approached the entrance to this road, from the longer round the top to Staffin main road, there was a big warning sign –

‘ROAD MAY BE IMPASSIBLE IN WINTER CONDITIONS – CONSIDER AN ALTERNATIVE ROUTE’.

That did not bode well.

I thought, briefly, of not trying it, then I thought…let’s see what it’s like, I can try and turn around if I don’t like it. The gullies beside the road were frozen, but there wasn’t any snow. The tarmac was missing in places and the pot holes were enough to simultaneously have you wondering about your wheels, your suspension, and your spine. You couldn’t see them in the dark, but you most definitely felt them!

As the sun started to rise and the world started to light up a bit, you’ll realise that you couldn’t avoid them anyway. The road was what one might generously call narrow, with some small passing places, a common theme in Scotland to anywhere remotely interesting. After Arran, nothing seems quite so bad anymore though, and on I went at a relatively sedate 35-40mph, slower in places I admit. I am glad the warning of ‘winter conditions’ did not come to pass and make me have a desire to turn around, I wouldn’t have had a cat in hell’s chance of doing so.

A lunatic in a Subaru came the other way, at rally speeds, and scared the crap out of me. But I made it to the parking bay at the very top, just as the sky went a beautiful purple. I was alone up there, the only car. I hadn’t had to let anyone pass me, and I had only seen the one car coming the other way. Perhaps a bonus of February?

The hotel was busy, and people were commenting on the ‘Outlander’ effect. I suppose it’s like a new ‘Highlander’ effect, which is still effecting some of our castles 30+ years later (my god, I feel old).

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Before sunrise – Totternish ridge near the Quiraing

Was I too late? I checked the OS map. Damn. The sun was rising rapidly now and moment by moment the landscape was revealing itself, and so was the path. OMG the path! It was 12″ wide at best, clinging to the side of the steep slope, many, many metres in the air.

And you have to leap the small gullies and their waterfalls! OMG. I was so NOT ready for this. Courage…

I looked around me. I was not going to get to The Needle in time. This was where I had wanted to be for the sunrise, but I should have got out of bed at 5.15 after all! I would just have had to have used my head-torch. The torch was actually in the car for the very purpose, although I don’t know if the path would be less scary in the dark or more so…

Either way, I decided I wasn’t going to get there in time. Play it safe, get some decent shots, find somewhere, here, the sun is rising, and rapidly. My brain was in overdrive. I was running about the hillside like a goat (an uncoordinated goat admittedly).

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The moment of sunrise

I found my spot. I set myself up, working quickly. Facing the distant mountains of Wester Ross, across the Sound of Raasay and the Inner Sound beyond that. Here she comes…

In seconds I was bathed in warm glowing light. The rocks lit up and the shapes of the ridge revealed themselves all around me.

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Trotternish, moments after the sunrise

The light and the colours changed every few seconds, the details slowly revealed, and the shadows lengthening. It was stunning. I had forgotten how quickly this all happens, like I say, I am not a morning person…I tend to shoot sunsets.

I turned around to face the mighty Quiraing…

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The Quiraing

The scary path, now even more revealed, showed me that there was no way I would have got to The Needle in time. I had made the right decision. I know now why people camp out overnight on the ridge to get those sunrise shots, at the Prison, the Needle, and around the Table.

Although I hadn’t got the shots I had intended, I was happy with the shots that I had. If I had proceeded, aside from probably needing a change of underwear because I am a big scaredy cat, I could well have missed getting anything decent at all! This is where years of experience in photography, and understanding the need to get the best shot in the circumstances, comes into play. Landscape photography is a game of light, of calculated risks, and sometime very quick decisions.

I had made a decision, with only moments in which to do so, and I had made the right one. I should point out that, when it comes to my life in general, this isn’t normally the case. I am generally indecisive, inclined to dither, and very good at cocking it up because I choose badly.

Would I make that decision again? No, actually I would have made a slightly different one. I would have made a decision a good couple of hours earlier, and got out of my cosy bed rather than sitting drinking tea!

The wonderful light didn’t last long. Soon, the great sunny, wall to wall, blue sky that had been forecast had now arrived, and it was time to head down. It was just around 8.20 ‘ish.

I passed another five tripods perched at various points between me and the car park. Obviously five people who were worse at planning, or getting out of bed, than me. Five bodies loitered about fairly near to them, some wandered around looking for different angles. But for me, the light was gone, and I was heading back to the hotel. It was 8.40…and I started to wonder…could I make breakfast?

Now I could see the bends, and was able watch for other cars coming up at me (as I went down back towards Uig). I could go a little bit quicker, in some places. Not much quicker, I was trying to avoid the flipping pot holes, the extent of which I could now also see…

I got to the hotel at 9.00. I stuck my head in the restaurant, and was assured I could make breakfast. I ran up to the room and put the nearly dead camera battery on to charge, for later. Loch Fyne Kippers awaited, and they were fine indeed.

Rejoin me after breakfast by clicking here