Camasunary, Isle of Skye, Autumn
As well as revisiting old favourites of ours on Skye, we also wanted to check out unfamiliar territory across the island.
As well as revisiting old favourites of ours on Skye, we also wanted to check out unfamiliar territory across the island.
A new, to us, hike we bookmarked was located on the Strathaird peninsula of Skye, perhaps more widely accessed for getting to Elgol. We did revisit Elgol again, but on the way back we stopped at a parking layby near Kirkibost for a hike up and over the Strathaird peninsula towards an isolated little bay called Camasunary.
This hike ended up being the best thing we did on the Isle of Skye.
Camasunary is the Scots form of the Scottish Gaelic Camas Fhionnairigh, which means “Bay of the White Shieling”. This implies that this bay, in times past, was once used as summer grazing for livestock, when transhumance farming was more common.
As we had spent time around Elgol for sunrise, our hike to Camasunary was still early in the morning, which provided us with dazzling displays of light and shadow on some of the most epic scenery we’ve ever seen.
Photos shot on my Fujifilm X-T2 primarily using a Samyang 35mm f/1.2 with occasional backup provided by my Laowa 9mm f/2.8. I used a customised Pro Negative Standard film profile.
We couldn’t have asked for better conditions as we began our hike from the layby at Kirkibost. Here, a long lenticular cloud hovers above Nead an Fhìor-eòin (334 m/1,095 ft).
One of my favourite Skye mountains, Blà Bheinn, is more famously viewed from the shore of Loch Slapin. But from this hike the mountain’s fin-like southern ridge is more prominent, and I managed to snap this shot as the peak caught some morning light.
As we crested the summit of the trail, views of the Black Cuillins started to open up and our excitement levels shot through the roof.
The view of Camasunary Bay from the summit of the trail. Holy moly, what a view! The mountain to the right is Sgurr na Stri (494 m/1,620 ft), definitely one of the smaller peaks on Skye but its position above Loch Coruisk means the view from its summit is perhaps one of the finest in Britain (and one I hope to see myself one day). To the left, catching the morning light, is Gars-bheinn (808 m/2,650 ft).
As we began following the trail down to Camasunary Bay we were faced with the massive southern face of Blà Bheinn (928 m/3,044 ft) high above, glowing gold in the morning sun. We also weren’t the only ones enjoying this hike.
Bright slivers of golden light streak across the various faces of the Black Cuillins. In my head, the Lord Of The Rings theme music plays incessantly.
A particularly strong burst of light breaks through the low clouds as I shot this view across Loch na Creìtheach. The hill on the left is Sgùrr Hain (420 m/1,377 ft) and the crown-like summit in the distance is Sgùrr nan Gillean (966 m/3,170 ft), one of Skye’s most famous peaks. Its name translates from Scottish Gaelic as “peak of the young men”.
We finally arrived at the flat bay of Camasunary. There’s three buildings on the bay; two of them are bothys (one old and disused, another freshly constructed). The building pictured, though, is a private house. I’m not sure if it’s still in use or not; it looked in various states of disrepair. You have to admit, it’s a cracking spot for a house.
This is the old Bothy, located at the western end of Camasunary Bay, close to the beach, with Sgurr na Stri above. In 2014 it was reclaimed by the private owner of the Bay, and a newer bothy was constructed back at the eastern end of the Bay. If you don’t know, a bothy is a basic building or shelter and usually left unlocked, available for anyone to use free of charge. They’re quite common in the mountainous areas of Scotland, but you do find them in places like the Lake District too.
Heading back up the trail, I couldn’t resist one last look back at this stunning view of Camasunary Bay.
As we made our way back to the car at Kirkibost the clouds got angrier and occasional spits of rain signalled the end of our luck with the light and weather this day. However, another burst of light from behind us illuminated this solitary tree, which I lined up with the pyramid peak in the distance that was also catching the light.
Retro Reworking: Cove, Scottish Borders, Autumn 2017
With a better eye, and better tools, I’ve revisited my photographs from our time in Cove and the coast of the Scottish Borders.
Cove Harbour from the cliffs above. The geology of the Scottish Borders coast is absolutely fascinating to me. At Cove, there’s a band of Carboniferous limestone and sandstone ridges that bend towards the north. This is due to a downthrust of the Cove fault about ½ mi southeast.
It’s something of a tradition for me and Lisabet to spend a couple of weeks in autumn somewhere in Scotland.
In 2017 we split that fortnight in two: the first week we stayed in the tiny Scottish Borders coastal village of Cove, then drove across Scotland to get the ferry to the Isle of Arran for the second week.
Cove and the surrounding coastline is delightful. The Scottish Borders, especially the coastal area, is often spared the numbers of people who might otherwise head towards Glasgow, Edinburgh, Loch Lomond, and further north.
With a better eye, and better tools, I’ve revisited my photographs from our time in this beautiful area.
I hope you like what you see. I did.
A longer exposure shot at dusk, showing the craggy cliffs and sea stacks of Cove as well as the “finned” ridges below.
A composition that attempts to feature those finned ridges in Cove Harbour. It’s hard to capture their curvature towards the sea unless you’re above them.
North Berwick beach with the tide out, exposing some of the more unusual rocks and boulders that the sea normally hides.
A simple composition featuring this wonderfully triangular boulder, pointing towards Bass Rock in the distance.
The incredible shapes and colour of Seacliff’s coastline. Here I found a groove running diagonally through the twisted rocks, which I used to try to point towards Tantallon Castle in the distance.
More of the incredible geology around Seacliff, with the ever-present shape of Bass Rock slightly obscured by the haze in the distance.
Slightly separated from the coastline of Seacliff is a rocky outcrop called The Gegan. I intensely scanned its lower slopes, working all its various shapes and forms for compositions.
Seacliff beach, its cliff to the left and the rocky outcrop known as The Gegan in the middle. In the distance, Bass Rock, an ancient volcanic plug made of tough igneous rock that’s survived everything the Firth of Forth has thrown at it.
Further southeast along Seacliff’s beach you can find more igneous intrusions and weird rock formations to play with.
Probably my favourite formations I found on the Seacliff beach.
St. Abbs coast on a seriously foggy day.
It was nice to experience a thick harr around the St. Abbs coast, gave me an opportunity to play with more minimalistic compositions.
Up on the cliffs above Pease Bay, looking back to Cove and its harbour, trying to document the unusual geology of the area.
I was captivated by the vivid red hues of Pease Bay’s sandstone cliffs. This composition is essentially 75% cliff, with just a bit of beach and sea to provide context.
A different section of Pease Bay’s western red cliffs.
I loved the contrast of the vivid red sandstone around Pease Bay against the dusky blue tones of the water. This was a longer exposure to capture that water motion as the tide came in.
Retro Reworking: Mull of Galloway, Scotland, Winter 2018
Welcome to Retro Reworking, otherwise known as “the country’s on lockdown due to a global pandemic so I have a lot more time on my hands also I’m better at editing nowadays”.
Killantringan Lighthouse, north of Portpatrick. Its name comes from the Scottish Gaelic Cill shaint Ringain, meaning “St. Ringan's chapel”. The lighthouse came into life at the start of the 20th century, and was automated in 1988.
Welcome to Retro Reworking, otherwise known as “the country’s on lockdown due to a global pandemic so I have a lot more time on my hands also I’m better at editing nowadays”.
Back in the tail end of winter 2018 Lisabet and I took a short break to the Rhins of Galloway. This is a long north-south peninsula that ends in the south at the Mull of Galloway, the southernmost tip of Scotland. We’d never been here before; our closest venture would’ve been Galloway Forest Park, 30-odd miles east inland.
Despite hiking in winter we were treated to clear blue skies and endless views. We spent most of our time scanning the western coast of the peninsula, ducking in and out of various bays, and hiking along the tops of cliffs. The Mull of Galloway, in particular, provided epic views from its cliffs.
All photographs shot with my camera at the time, which was a Sigma dp0 Quattro with a built-in 14mm f/4.0 lens. ND grads and polarisers were used in-field to balance exposures. Editing and colour grading done manually myself.
Port Mora, one of the numerous little bays one can explore when hiking north from Portpatrick towards Killantringan Bay.
The sweeping views towards the sheer cliffs of the Mull of Galloway. I primarily shot this photograph because I liked the way the ripples in the grass served as repeating leading lines towards the cliffs. Yes, it was bloody windy.
The sheer cliffs of the Mull of Galloway. This was shot from the top of Lythe Mead towards McTaggart’s Rock. I recall seeing a fox corpse further down the cliff here; probably lost a chase against the resident sheep population.
Getting amongst the craggy rocks and sea stacks of Port Logan Bay, looking towards the Mull of Logan.