29th April

There are some of you out there (maybe) who are thinking that I have lost interest in this blog on account of the lack of posts for the last few days. However, I have to remind you that this is a weekend and I deserve a rest too. In reality, I have not been resting despite the social life that has caused me to be involved in those 'weekendy' things such as sport, TV and general carousing. In addition to those activities I have developed several rolls of B/W film, scanned them and made some interim digital files as well as continuing to prepare my color digital files from Sandwood Bay (yep folks, I'm still there, moping disconsolately along the sand nursing a wet camera amongst other things). By tomorrow, I expect to have left the beach and will be wandering through the fantastical world of the dunes that lie seductively in waiting behind the sand. In the meantime here are a few more images from the beach, including (or rather starring) that lovely little sea stack called Am Buachaille.

Am Buachaille #3

Sandwood Bay (south end)

Sandwood Bay (north end)

Am Buachaille #1

The large Torridonian sandstone stack of Am Buachaille, Gaelic for The Herdsman, was first climbed in 1968 by Tom Patey and Ian Clough.

27th April

Sandwood Bay

Irresistible Atlantic storm winds

Thrust landward in a battering rage

Devouring the tranquility like a starving beast

Cannibalizing the soft air of spring.

A reflection of cloud on wet sand

gale ripped light briefly captured by earth

then dry sand swirling in a frenzied flight

so that earth is held hostage by air.

In the struggling blink of a grit filled eye

sudden settling and a furtive peace returns

the booming song of waves restarts

Just another season of squalls is here

Sandwood Reflections

Am Buachaille

27th April

Starting todays' post with a short poem and image from the road up to Sandwood Bay.

The Bay

This edentate bay appears to me

Like an open, gaping toothless mouth

In the pockmarked face

Of the rugged Hebridean coastline

Loch Inchard from Inshegra

The walk to Sandwood Bay crosses land owned and maintained by the John Muir Trust. The trust (of which I am a member so remember that I'm biased!) aims to purchase worthy land in Scotland and manage that land with the aim of restoring it to its original state. This may well mean that the land is reforested with native trees to return the land to its re-clearance state. In the case of Sandwood, the only access to the bay is on foot (hooray!). It's 4.5 miles in, 4.5 miles out and I would guess that I trudged around the bay and added 1-2 miles to that total over sand. Boy, was I knacked at the end of that day (and the next day too). The JMT has greatly improved this access path over the last few years and I am grateful to them for that. The first photograph shows a nicer part of the path - the stony part. 

The track to Sandwood Bay

At times, the path crosses some muddy and awkward bits where one has to skip across and around puddles, streams and bogs of various sizes. It makes the walking less straightforward than one may have planned for. The open moorland scenery may seem quite boring to some people but there are distant views of Arkle and Foinaven as well as several lochans, each with its own sandy mini-beach. These act as appetizers for the main course. Using my Black Diamond elliptical walking poles (ooh, is that another bit of marketing), I fairly skipped along this path in a way that belied my age and physical infirmities. It took me 1.5 hours to reach the turning point in the path where one can see, off to the right, the ruins of an old croft and its walled animal enclosures, and off to the left the first sight of Sandwood Bay.

Ruins, Sandwood Bay

Sandwood Bay, first look.

At this turning point in the path and for 20 minutes thereafter the bay seems to be like one of those mirages that never seem to arrive. Of course, it does arrive and one is left standing on a beach with (if you are lucky) no people or maybe one or two distant ones. in my case, there were two others I could see and they were so far away that I could barely make them out. Perhaps a new set of glasses is in order. I started at the south end of the bay and immediately started taking photos of the waves. After half an hour of shooting I setup my black and white film camera in the seemingly safe surf and proceeded to knock out some shots of the advancing waves using long shutter speeds and a ND filter that gave me 5 extra stops. I saw a particularly impressive example advancing upon me and got kinda excited about getting the shot. Alas, this quickly turned into the tsunami experience. I turned tail like the abject coward that I am and made for drier ground, thinking only of keeping my feet dry. After about 5 steps my brain apparently clicked into operating mode and I realized that my camera was still propped on its tripod in the surf. Turning and hoping, a silent prayer to Poseidon on my quivering lips, I saw that my camera was, as we say here in the USA, 'ass over tea kettle' in the now retreating surf. The damage was truly done as was my lovely camera. That was, despite my futile efforts, the end of my film photography for this trip. From now on it would be all digital baby!

25th April

Just thought I would post my first image from Sandwood Bay just to let you know that the next few days will see more images posted from that hallowed beach. It's also the place where my lovely Bronica medium format camera met its demise in the cold and unforgiving waters of the Atlantic Ocean. Adios Bronica! Developed my first 2 rolls of black and white film today (not many more to go - ha ha) so you may see a few REAL B/W images posted in the next week or so.

Sandwood Reflections

25th April

The Blue House, Inshegra

Detail from the Blue House, Inshegra

The Blue House

This unhappy, silent house

is uninhabited now

but maybe people lived here once.

Multiple hues of fading blue

paint flaking like dead skin

from standing in the sun too long

or being repeatedly soaked then dried

by the harsh Atlantic rains.

Windows blocked to discourage prying eyes.

Frames cracking like so much splintered flotsam.

A red eyeliner suggests that this old lady

still harbours hopes of a suitor.

Long grass in front like a shock of unkempt hair

and, of course, at centre stage

a portal of oceanic hue

with a lipstick doorknob.

All friends are now long gone, and this house 

is reduced to a glorified tool shed

or so I suspect

24th April

So Now I am on the road to Kinlochbervie and places beyond including the start point for the walk to Sandwood Bay. The weather has started out somewhat changeable (I am using some poetic license here). I have had some sun and a whole lot of rain but in Scotland, that particular combination usually produces great light (later in the day, the whole trip to Sandwood Bay would have spectacular weather). The road in question is the B801 branching off at Rhiconich and progressing as far as Balchrick. Here are some of the photographs I took along this branch road and, as you will see, it's a road worth travelling!

Near Rhiconich

I have taken several shots of leaning boats over the years. One of my most well known photographs named simply "Ullapool" shows a leaning, beached boat in the bay at Ullapool. The one above is not quite so dramatic but shows the moody weather to perfection.

Detail from the Blue House at Inshegra (oooh, I feel a poem coming on).

I will say no more but instead I will get working on cobbling a few words together for this quite beautiful edifice. Tune in tomorrow!

Badcall Bay and Jetty

When I arrived at Badcall Bay (appropriately named) the heavens opened and I was treated to a powerful downpour with some hail. It looked like it could be in for the day so I hopped out of the car and got this panoramic duo (here made into a wide single). You can see how murky the landscape looks, especially on the right side. That's where the rain was coming from.

Arkle from south of Kinlochbervie

Pretty sure this is Arkle but I'm certain someone will tell me that it just isn't so. This is a lovely conical mountain and today it was snowcapped but the heavy weather masks most of it. Oh, and don't worry. This is not the main road to Kinlochbervie. It's a side road to that small cluster of houses. Phew!

Loch Inchard from south of Kinlochbervie

... and finally, a solemn view of Loch Inchard that looks just as good in black and white but I decided not to show you that one, so there!

23rd April

It's interesting going through the digital images in the sequence they were taken because it brings back lots of memories of the trip and it also allows me to name and 'position' the photographs.

After leaving Ardvreck castle on my way to Lochinver I had one more stop. My first view of Suilven was taken from the roadside about 1 mile out of Lochinver and looking SE. Compare it to the view I took about 7 am the following morning from outside the hotel and you can see how changing light marks this part of the world.

Suilven from near Lochinver

Suilven and Gorse

Early that morning and the weather was fabulously fine as you can see. I wandered down to the main street of Lochinver before breakfast and was rewarded with a fine view of the bay.

Lochinver Bay

After breakfast I headed out to Sandwood Bay. This was my priority walk if the weather was fine ... and it was! Just before the turnoff to the north (Durness) I passed this lovely stand of Scots Pine on Lake Assynt. The boat added to the view.

Scots Pine and Boat, Loch Assynt

Tomorrow I will describe the hotel and also the trip to Sandwood Bay.

23rd April

I did manage to dredge out a few more images from Ardvreck (of course there will be more once the B/W film has been developed). I particularly like the soft textured, almost ethereal skies - something I failed to notice amid the excitement of photographing in such nice light!

Loch Assynt looking South from Ardvreck

Old Jetty and Calda House with Conival behind

...and one more

21st April

On the first day of photography I drove from my overnight resting place (Grantown-on-Spey) to Ullapool and then northward toward Lochinver. Just to the north of Inchnadamph (this place remains in my mind infamously as the site of a rowdy geological field trip I was on some 38 years ago) I came upon Ardvreck Castle. The following is a description taken from the Discover Scotland website and reproduced here almost (but not quite) verbatim.

"Ardvreck Castle comprises a finger of stone, pointing accusingly at the sky. Just enough remains to identify it as once having been a three storey tower house of traditional design, including a corbelled section that once housed the main staircase and part of a vaulted basement level. Across the narrow neck of the promontory is a dry stone wall that marks the line of an old defensive wall: traces of the original defensive ditch here can still be seen.

The castle dates back to about 1490 when the lands were owned by the Macleods of Assynt. Its only place in history is an especially inglorious one. On 25 April 1650, the Marquis of Montrose fighting for the Royalist cause even after the execution of Charles I lost the battle of Carbisdale to a much smaller Covenanter army. His flight brought him, two days later, to Ardvreck Castle, where he sought sanctuary with Neil Macleod of Assynt.

Neil was away, and his wife, Christine, tricked Montrose into the castle dungeon and sent for troops of the Covenanter Government. Montrose was taken to Edinburgh where he was executed on 21 May 1650. This stands as a remarkable betrayal of Highland hospitality.

Ardvreck Castle was attacked and captured by the Mackenzies in 1672. In 1726 they replaced it with the more modern Calda House (apparently recycling some of the stone from Ardvreck when they did so).

This burned down in 1737 and before the Mackenzies were able to rebuild the house, their estates had been seized by the Crown for their support of the losing side in the 1745 uprising. It has remained a ruin ever since".

The weather had turned from rainy that day to much more spectacular as the day drew to its end. I shot several rolls of black and white film (oh thank heaven!) and also some digital shots A few of these are reproduced here and, I hope, give you an idea of just how nice things were and how relieved I was feeling to get some light at last.

Looking North from Ardvreck Castle

Approaching Ardvreck Castle (Quinag in the background)

Ardvreck Ruins

I have some more digital images that I have yet to work on. I may post a few more tomorrow.

21st April

Oh dear! Not only are they shot but they are locked in too.

"Oh Deer"

20th April

.... and here is that image of Loch Leven I promised taken on the morning of my departure for Glasgow. I will mention that it was 6.30 in the morning to show you how brave and dedicated I was getting up at that time!

20th April

Often when I am prepping images I make several variations when working in Photoshop. There may be an original and also a black and white version and finally, a colorized version. I do quite a lot of colorization and I have posted some of this work previously (see post of 31st March). below is a shot I made near Achmelvich. At the end of a 2 mile hike, just past an old grain mill, there is a glorious little beach with several tiny embayments. The beach is sandy but at the deepest parts of the embayments can be found an exotic collection or rocks. The first image is the original digital image .

The second image is the black and white version. It has been cropped and, as I do with many of my images where I can get away with it, has been reformatted into my favourite square format. The latter is one of the few retouching methods that I could not pull off in the traditional darkroom.

The final photograph (and the version I like best) is the colorized version. I colorize in Photoshop using 6 or 7 color layers. It's fun doing this but the greatest benefit is that I get to control the final look of the image. I can change the colors, subdue them, intensify them or try to duplicate them. The objective is to produce a more subtle version of the original. You may notice only slight differences from the original but as I like to say, "the art is in the details".

The title of this image is "Lewisian Gneiss, Achmelvich, Scotland". Something else I sometimes do is write poetry (yes!!). I have a blurb book of my photographs and poetry titled "Pathways of Childhood - the White Peak". Check it out at www.blurb.com and search using my name. Here is a whimsical poem I wrote to accompany the image above.

Lewisian Nice

 So I'm lyin 'ere on this beach wiv me mates

like we're all part of a idden fraternity.

Some of em are as good lookin as me

but none of 'em has that magic combination

of my stripes, my size and my smooth rounded shoulders.

I'm the big cheese around 'ere

a very cultured boy in a world

full of uncouth, rough rocks.

It's taken me millions of years

to get this way

washed by waves, scoured by storms

redesigned by rain.

I'm as cuddly as yer pet cat.

you could take me 'ome

put me outside yer door

to welcome mates 'n arrivin acquaintances

or you could take me inside

(please take me inside, away from

the rain, the sun 'n the ice).

You'd be proud of me

show me off to yer mates.

'Ere on the beach they call me

'The Honourable Louis Nice'

but I don't ferget me roots

I'll always be just plain old

Lewisian Gneiss

standin proud 'n aloof

except for that parasitic pebble

of Torridonian Sandstone. 

19th April

Well folks, I have now returned to Denver and my lovely wife and cats and I am only slightly jet lagged! The flight was uneventful which is always a good sign. On the morning I left Loch Leven to make to 2 hour speedy drive to Glasgow, the sun was in full, glorious shining mode once again and the view from the hotel was spectacular to say the least. If I can get around to it I will post a shot of the area tomorrow. It's very tough knowing that you really have to shimmie along in order to make the airport timeously, especially when the scenery is so great and the weather is being nice. I made a few stops but I also left behind some ethereal light on the hills. Well, I had to leave something for my next trip!

Today I want to say a few things about digital photography and the use (or overuse) of HDR or High Dynamic Range photography. HDR has become the 'big thing' in recent years to such an extent that, in most cases the work is easy to spot and the end product leaves a lot to be desired. HDR has a definable 'look' to it that is not always pleasant, but that doesn't have to be the case. Ones' lead should be taken from those who employ this technique to best advantage. I'm thinking of Dan Burkholder as a great example. I have been lucky to work with Dan on two occasions and have benefited greatly from his depth of knowledge and also his somewhat quirky yet infectious personality. Check out his book "The Color of Loss" that shows a collection of work he put together after the Hurricane Katrina disaster.

When used expeditiously HDR can definitely add to the visual experience. Below is a picture taken near Ardvreck Castle on my first photography day in Scotland. It was late in the day, the sun was going down and the shadows were strong. The first image is a single shot exposed correctly but I had to wait for the sun to almost disappear behind the clouds to reduce the contrast range. 

The second shot was done using 5 different exposures and then blended with Photomatix software. All the tones are captured (except the darks which I wanted to stay dark). Some extra colors are captured and the contrast range is reduced. The image can be processed a number of different ways using this software but I try to keep my HDR work looking 'realistic' rather than garish or painterly. In this particular case, I think the second image has a greater feel than the first image.

I have now downloaded all my digital images and, as I posted previously, the real work is about to begin! Obviously I won't post everything (that would be boring) but I will certainly try to give you a cross section of the end results.

17th April

In the interest of keeping this short (it's late, I'm tired, had a long day driving and sightseeing etc etc), I am posting fewer pictures in the hope that you will expect me to say less. I think that should work. In case you expect me to start off this entry with yet another glowing description of the Scottish weather let me tell you that you would be wrong! Today was a filthy day, at least until well after midday by which time I was just south of Ullapool and driving into clearer weather. Grey and rainy made me realize that I am in Scotland again. To carp about this would be churlish however in light of the astounding good luck I have had so far. Actually, this weather gave me a chance to photograph Scotland as I imagine it to be (first photograph). Yes, they are mist covered snowy mountains in the far distance.

My first stop was an hour at Knockan Crags, famous for its geology. This is where we can observe the giant Moine Thrust plane that thrusts very old Lewisian Gneiss over much younger rocks. This next photograph shows a mock up done on site to impress the kiddies. Alas, I felt the whole presentation was dumbed down for not so bright or not so interested children.The kids who are genuinely interested in this kind of stuff would be turned off by the presentation - I know I would have been.While at Knockan Crags it snowed! You can see a bit of snow in the third photograph of a very interesting globe sculpture made of rock in the exact style of the remarkable Andy Goldsworthy (of whom it seems to be plagiarising).

Still a great sculpture though!

After KC I drove south through Ullapool and then took the long coastal route to Gairloch where the nuclear subs hang out. There I happened to fortuitously stumble upon the famous Inverewe Gardens which are a bit like the fabulous efforts on the Big Island of Hawaii and at Kirstenbosch near Cape Town. I spent 1.5 hours here but could have hung out all day. While there I was subjected to clouds, rain, bright sunshine and a 10 minute hail storm! Even though there are amazing flora from all around the world I decide to present you with a picture of a dead leaf. Go figger.

Below are strange fern like forms growing at the gardens. Still at a juvenile stage.

After Inverewe I was very late and had a long way to go and I only got to the hotel at 8.30 pm had some dinner and am now writing this (that's dedication for you). Saw lots of snow covered pretty mountains on the way down and I am sure to have nightmares trying to figure which is which. This is the one with the tree in front of it.

By the time I got to Phoenix ....er sorry that is Loch Leven the sun was shining madly and a the snow capped mountains were bathed in light but I had no time to stop and capture it! Typical. I drive to Glasgow tomorrow and then home and that's where the real work will begin so this blog will continue!

16th April

I am going to start todays blog with this seemingly innocuous blue picture. What do you see? Perhaps more importantly, what do you not see? The answer of course is - CLOUDS! You are looking at the Scottish sky over my head about 3 pm this afternoon. The really amazing thing is that I have my camera on its widest, wide angle setting. Can you believe it! You would be inclined to think (and I would not blame you for a second) that I am vacationing in some far off tropical country like India or South Africa, but no, you would be in error. This, my friends is Scotland in April. Now I happen to think the weather is always like this but the crafty Scots have sown the rumoric seed that the weather is perpetually cold and rainy. They have done this to keep the pesky, irritating tourists away. Pity they could not have done the same for the midges, or, as Carol calls them, the midgets.

The day began with a dilemma. Should I climb Canisp, for it was a rare and perfect day to scale a Scottish mountain, or should I go to Durness and try for Cape Wrath, the furthest north-westerly point on the British mainland? Durness won the battle on account of it being less strenuous. I reckoned the drive would take about one and one half hours but with stops for photographs it could easily be a days journey. Sure enough my first stop was at Scourie where there was an interesting sign for Scourie Beach and Burial Grounds. Intrigued, I headed for the perfect looking crescent of sand where the tide was conveniently out. Anticipating a 5 minute stop I wandered on to the sand where I was assailed with all kinds of beach forms and textures, from runoff channels and braided streamlets to mudworm casts, seashells and seaweed of several varieties. The fauna did not stop there because I encountered some local wildlife in the forms of a teenage girl and her younger brother and "Major" a large black dog that so badly wanted to be friends with me that he stepped across whatever I decided to photograph. The teenage girl spoke to me. Standing and shivering with her arms wrapped around her like any teenager anywhere (and clearly inadequately dressed for the cold breeze) she uttered some words in an accent so thick it could have come from some far flung corner of eastern Europe. The words were (interpreted) "Scald innit? Nee reet fer summa". I think she meant "It's cold for this time of year". I pointed out that it was still only April, barely spring this far north and that, have no fear, summer would dutifully arrive with temperatures soaring into the low sixties. Unimpressed with my broadest Manchester accent she once again called "Major" to her side and proceeded on her way. Pleased to have some time alone I fired away merrily with my camera for another hour getting photos like the ones below.

Braided stream stringers

Shifting sands

Braids on braids

Sea Urchin and worm casts

Is this one of the most peaceful burial grounds imaginable?

Scourie Beach with the tide out.

...and so to some geology. These are some fabulously folded and intruded Lewisian gneisses in a fresh road cutting several miles north of Scourie. The vertical lines are drill/blast holes. The dark areas are mafic metamorphosed volcanics, probably of granulite facies and the lighter stuff is actually intruded granitic material. Without experience of the area however I am just whistling in the dark about the true nature of stuff like this. It's VERY COMPLEX!

Further north we get to some really cool looking mountains, notably Foinaven and Arkle (weren't they racehorses?). They look so nice when they are covered with the last snows of the year.

Just before arriving at Durness we encounter limestones that form one of the most extensive karst topographies in Europe. This is the impressive estuary which was at least a half mile wide at this point. The scenery here is very different from further south.

If there is one thing that the Durness area seems to have in abundance it's sand. I decided to do the walk to Faraid Head, west of Durness and east of Cape Wrath. This was a 4 mile walk starting at a ruined church and graveyard (another one - sheesh), crossing the majestic beach at Balnakiel, then following a twisting little road into an army testing ground which was supposed to be safe. It so happened (I was told this on my return to the hotel) that today signalled the start of a major NATO exercise between the British and Danish armies! The artillery was going gung ho and scaring the heck out of me. Trying to take photographs while having blasting going on nearby belies the idea of peaceful contemplation that my chosen pursuit is supposed to foster. I wouldn't like to be the customs officer who decides to go through my soiled clothing when I return to the good old USA. What a shock he (or she) will have! Serves them right. There are 2 reasons I would not recommend this walk (well 3 actually). The first is the artillery fire - who needs it? The second is the wind blowing sand in ones face. There is a lot of wind up here and a hell of a lot of sand. The third is that this is not Cape Wrath (which is not accessible by car, only by boat). Next time I will try for the boat trip. The picture below is NOT Balnakiel Beach. It's one of the many lesser beaches in the area. Cool eh?

Finally, here are a few more smulchy shots of the ocean with waves (I still love that word). The best I can say is that the first of these is LOOKING TOWARDS Cape Wrath but is still 10 miles from it.

and finally, a last smulchy wave to signal a goodbye to this area for the time being. Tomorrow I start the drive south for a final stop/go, stop/go, stop/go day of photography with a planned stop at Knockan Crag to photograph a large stone ball. Hmmm.

Ooh, here's another photo. How did that get in here? It's a long exposure shot of that nice beach above, not that you would know it to look at the photograph.

And another photo that snuck in. I have started to sing to the sheep. That is a sure sign that it is time to return home to my beloved wife who I am really starting to miss. It starts out with just singing to them, then who knows? I noticed that they stand still and listen when I sing which is very gratifying because Carol doesn't do that.