In my previous post here, I shared with you my plans for a trek up to the Outer Hebrides for some photographic frolics.
Aside from it being a truly epic drive - I covered 1200 miles in 7 days, I encountered some absolutely stunning scenery and spent an entire week on my own devoted to filling my photographic boots.
I decided ahead of time, that I would make a point of recording an audio diary several times a day into Evernote for posterity and simple note taking. On listening to it back, it’s a pleasant reminder of just how relaxed it was. There’s a term that I used regularly, “soul food”, and this is exactly what it was for me. Refreshing and revitalising.
A delightful little place. According to the 2005 census, there were 87 inhabitants of the island and it only covers 12m2. There can be no more than 100 inhabitants now and there is one 3 mile asphalt road, though I saw no more than half a dozen cars on it the entire time I was there. With evidence of 8,000 years of a human presence, the island is steeped in history; aside from the effects of bronze and iron age farmers, Viking and Norse place-naming, and medieval massacres, the clearance of the crofters from the 1850s onwards has probably had the largest human influence on the island. Interesting though that is, the geology for me is far more impressive. In a somewhat topsy turvy manner, the oldest rock is at sea level and the highest point on the island, the Sgurr pichstone that you can see quite dramatically on arrival dominating the wee port, is the youngest - the remains of one of the last volcanic eruptions, the core of which now forms the stunning backdrop of the island of Rum. Sadly I didn’t make it up the Sgurr, nor did I manage to reach the north of the island - i just didn’t have time. But I did see the stunning Bay of Laig and the equally impressive Singing Sands, though were there any singing occurring, there’s absolutely no way I’d have heard it over the howling gale that accompanied me that day.
My digs for the couple of nights was the lovely Kildonnan House B&B, which incidentally I can highly recommend. The hostess, Marie, was absolutely lovely, the food terrific, the bedrooms clean and cozy, the views terrific and the peace and quiet quite beautiful.
On the 4th day, I jumped on the ferry back to the mainland in the afternoon, fired up a very cold and lonely looking motor and drove onto the ferry to Armadale on Skye where I was to meet a model for a sunset shoot. Always a bit unsure whether a pre-booked model is actually going to turn up or not, I was pleasantly surprised when not only was Liv waiting for me when I disembarked from the ferry, she also recommended a much better location than I’d planned and even arranged for a stunning sunset and calm enough conditions to get a small soft box up. In an hour from our arrival at the beach, we’d got through two costume changes, several lighting tweaks and had managed to nail an absolute bucketload of keepers. It’s a while now since I’ve had to dust of the ol’ SB900s, in fact I’ve never even done a model shoot with my Fuji X-T1, but with the benefit of my ageing PocketWizards, I was impressed at just how well the X-T1 performed, and more importantly how easily I managed to get everything working and dial it all in - there’s definitely something to be said for memory through repetition. I was absolutely over the moon at what we’d managed to achieve in such a short space of time and left to find my bed for the night on top of the world.
I’ve passed the odd shaped creation that is the Old Man of Storr several times, yet I’ve rarely seen it in the flesh. Every time it has either been obscured by mist or low cloud, or the rain has been so intense that it required total focus on the road. This time I was keen to make a concerted effort. I know it’s been done a thousand times before but I wanted to try something a little different, hopefully. I’d picked out a spot on the map that looked like it would do as a suitable overnight halt for another Disco kip and would only be a short drive to my shoot in the morning, but on arrival, way after dark, it was positively eery. Turning off the headlights, I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. There was no moonlight. There was no light of any description at all. It was marked on the OS map as a car park, though there can’t have been room for more than 3 or 4 cars and it was right next to what looked, in torchlight, like a metallic farm shed. Oh my God how that thing howled and clattered in the night. Several times I awoke in the night with a start convinced that the roof was going to blow off and squash poor little me underneath it. Fortunately, obviously, it didn’t and I awoke in the morning at the allotted alarm time in the cold half-light of the early pre-dawn, made a brew, did a little jig to try and warm up and headed off. True to form, not only was my planned location going to be completely impossible to reach, but nor were the heavens going to provide me with anything like ideal conditions. Still, I did the best I could and set off to catch the boat to Harris.
The island of Harris is an altogether different kettle of fish. In fact, it’s technically not even an island at all as it is actually joined to the Isle of Lewis by a strip of land less than ½ mile across. The North-West side of the island is home to some of the most spectacular beaches in Britain with vast golden sandy beaches stretching into the distance abounded by dunes and tall grasses. This contrasts with the South-East which contains some of the oldest rocks on the planet weighing in at 3 thousand million years old and has a lunar-esque feel to it. One thing it isn’t is short of photographic opportunities. Another is horizontal driving rain. And cloud. Definitely got more than their fare share of that too. But inclement weather aside, it’s definitely a place I’d go back too, and there aren’t many - the world’s too small and I haven't seen enough of it yet.
And so other than make photographs, did I conclude anything else of note? Well yes, a couple of things. The first is that the Discovery is great for turning into a bed for the night. There's acres of space in the back and it saves the time and effort of having to find a suitable pitch and then try and erect a tent. Obviously it wouldn't really work up Scafell, but for a run 'n' gun trip, it's ideal.
And the second is that Sugru is a marvel. I've long felt that buttons on the X-T1 are simply too small for cold or gloved hands, in fact they're too small for just about anyone with bigger fingers than a toddler. Until I stumbled across Matt Brandon's post and now my world is much much better!
Until next time.