In Inverary

This past Saturday was the Word-wide Photo Walk; as has become an occasional habit, I attended the Inverary walk.

There was a trip around the Inverary Jail:

and around the town front and Castle:

and early-autumn scenery around Dubh Loch:

Some of these are available as prints over on ShinyPhoto.

Inverary: A Tale of Three Techniques

In August I called in on an old friend in Inverary for a small guided tour around the local forests with camera in hand.

There was one particular photo I had in mind – ever since I first saw an old ruined barn with disused farm machinery, it was crying-out for the bokeh-panorama (aka Brenizer) technique – instead of one straight shot composed with the final focal-length in mind, one uses a longer lens (preferably a fast prime) and stitches the results into a panorama, to give an image with narrower DoF than was possible at the focal length in question.

Here’s the straight scene, taken on the Fuji X-H1 on the 16-50mm f/2.8 at 18mm – even wide open there’s no significant blurring in the background.

So here’s the stitched result, taken using a Helios 56mm f/2 wide open – drastic focus drop-off:

It took 100 frames at source – 2.4Gpx – but the result would be the equivalent of an 18mm lens at f/0.6. 

The second technique was keystone/perspective adjustment. On seeing a stone waterworks in the woods, my friend challenged me to get a view of it straight-on without using the drone. That’s simple enough – even though it’s several feet above head-height.

The third technique was simple long exposure: night had long fallen before I left the town but the clouds moving across Loch Fyne/Shira looked pleasantly ominous. Keeping base ISO, f/6.4 gave a 7s base exposure – with HDR 5*±2/3EV this became 7+18+30+27+10 = 92s combined total, retaining exposure from brightest point of clouds into shadowy areas in the mountainsides. (Contrast is not just a daytime problem!)

Several long exposures blended together into an HDR image of clouds and smooth water, Loch Shira from Inverary.

In Glen Nant

One of my favoured locations for a quick hour’s stroll in Argyll is Glen Nant, south of the village of Taynuilt; in particular the Ant Trail which leads you through a small Caledonian forest – not very reserved as many of the trees were felled a couple of centuries ago to fire the furnaces at Bonawe, but it seems folks have repented a bit since then.

Herewith, some more back-to-earth simple landscapes: Ben Cruachan from Glen Nant and a couple of intimate landscape studies.

Morvern 3/4: In Search of Purity

Time to explain the motivation for this excursion to the Morvern peninsula.

A few months ago, I was exploring what Google Earth had to show for the West coast of Scotland. A lot of photographers gravitate toward the north-west, around Sutherland, and rightly so – the geography up there is impressive. However, coming a little south past Ardnamurchan, there is also epic geology – evidence of volcanoes, beautiful mountains, the works. And so I stumbled across this glen past Loch Arienas and Loch Doire nam Mart, thinking there might be a view to enjoy part-way along the glen up one of the mountains to the left, perhaps.

On a little research, I saw the OS map of the area showed Aoineadh Mor, a former township dissolved in the Highland Clearances. Interesting history. So I drove – about 4.5 hours from Perthshire out through Fort William around Loch Eil and down at some length on wiggly single-lane 60-limit roads – and arrived at the small roadside carpark about 4.30pm.

The walk through the woods was beautiful: birches and oak trees catching the low sunlight.

Now it gets real. On emerging from the woods, the first evidence of habitation one sees is this broken dry-stone wall:

The Perimeter is Breached

which shouts the beginning of the story loud and clear: a township left to ruin, increasingly taken over by nature.

From what I gather, up to the 18th Century, Aoineadh Mor [approximately pronounced, and sometimes spelled, Inniemore, although the Gaelic ao vowel sound is inimitable in English] was a thriving crofting community on the slopes of Sithean na Raplaich where the burn (Allt Aoineadh Mor) flows down to the lochs.

It is a wonderfully beautiful setting – the Allt Aoineadh Mor burn burbling down the hillside, through the former township of the same name.

In 1824, Christina Stewart, newly owner of the Glenmorvern estate, forcibly ejected the crofters in order to farm sheep on the land for supposed greater profit, as happened in many places during the Highland Clearances.

The names of two of the last crofters to leave, James and Mary, have been given to two paths through the surrounding forestry.

By 1930 the sheep were also no longer profitable and the area was planted with trees as the cash-crop of the time. After 60 years, in 1994, the Forestry Commission uncovered the township.

And so my history intersects with the place in 2017.
It is both quieting and disquieting simultaneously: quiet in that there is an open space, there are trees, light, water, all the elements of landscape we photographers like; yet disquieting in that the area is not really pure – on scratching beneath the surface, there seems to be a greater innocence in the subsistence existence of crofting, with subsequent industries of sheep farming and forestry tainted by crass desire for profit to varying extent. And so the hillside is not really wild but barren; the land not just beautiful but exploited.

Dust kicked-up by a passing logging lorry travelling a path through Forestry Commission conifer woods, taken from the former township of Aoineadh Mor.
http://scotland.forestry.gov.uk/activities/heritage/historic-townships/aoineadh-mor-inniemore/marys-story

These conflicting forces of land, money and habitation are summarized in this photo, where we have nature’s pine tree felled in the foreground, a generation of mankind’s ruined croft superseded by the unnatural choice of conifers blown in as seed on the wind, leading to blue skies beyond.

This used to be the township of Aoineadh Mor, a scattering of stone crofts on the braes beside a beautiful river surrounded by forest. 
Now the Forestry Commission has taken over, with several monoculture forests on the surrounding mountains, even wild-seeding into the former township.

For what it’s worth, a few more photos all taken around the township:

References:

As I walk along these shores
I am the history within
As I climb the mountainside
Breaking Eden again –
Runrig, Proterra

Argyll Woodlands

One of my favoured walks around Argyll is a couple of miles south of Taynuilt, the White Ant trail around Glen Nant.

Ben Cruachan dominates the surrounding landscape – especially on a cool winter’s day:

Last summer I was pleased to fulfil a client’s requests for several of my photographs; one of the black & white prints was originally made in Glen Nant, a little burn flowing gently amongst the green undergrowth. On revisiting it, I’d forgotten how the original had been made whilst lurking, troll-like, under a small wooden bridge:

A repeat of a photo made some years ago – I’d forgotten that I was actually hiding, troll-,like under a small bridge to make the original!

No trip to Argyll would be complete without visiting old friends in Inverawe. In particular, Old Friend, my favourite willow tree, is still standing as characterful and gnarly as ever.

And all is well with the world

Around Ardkinglas

Driving home form the Argyll Photo-Walk, along the shores of Loch Fyne, I couldn’t help but stop to appreciate the golden evening light on the mountains surrounding Glenkinglas.

The Olympus Pen-F has a hi-res mode, which is a bit of a mixed blessing for use in the landscape. On the one hand, it constructs an 80-megapixel image never requiring more than 20 megapixels resolution from the lens. However, it does it by interleaving with sub-pixel super-resolution, for a total of 8 source frames per image, which results in dithering patterns around moving subjects. In the case of water, this can be mitigated by using a long exposure; in the case of clouds, much longer. For the photo showing Ardkinglas house across the water, I had an ND8 filter to make it a 1-second exposure. Unfortunately this introduced some serious colour-casts – so new filters have been ordered!

PhotoWalk 2016: Dubh Loch

There’s something distinctive about the light in Argyll, even at the early end of Autumn; the gold as it touches the mountains is exquisite.

As part of the photo-walk we strolled around part of Dubh Loch just outside Inverary; the light up the end of the loch was beautiful, the rainbows gorgeous, the water reflections perfect.

Couldn’t ask for a nicer afternoon, rain notwithstanding.

Argyll PhotoWalk 2016: Around Inverary

I was a bit late joining the photo-walk this year, but caught up with the small crowd of folks in Inverary prior to walking around the town with a camera in tow.

The views from the front, looking up lochs Shira and Fyne to sunlit mountains surrounding Glenkinglas, were stunning.

We also went around the Jail, where one of the guides pretended to have been naughty…

A Day in Argyll (2): Inverawe

No trip to Argyll is complete without a drive around Inverawe. A beautiful place, with woodland left to nature to do its thing in the middle of the estate. This time, the trees were particularly gorgeous in the sunlight.

Of course, what really matters is that Old Friend, the first and most characterful of the trees I later identified as a goat willow, is doing well. He is.

My favourite of many old goat willow trees around the estate - increasingly falling apart at the seams, it's still a characterful tree.

My favourite of many old goat willow trees around the estate – increasingly falling apart at the seams, it’s still a characterful tree.

A Day in Argyll (1): Landscapes

I spent Saturday travelling, mostly driving, to old stamping ground in Argyll.

There were roadworks holding up proceedings at Cruachan visitor centre, so I stopped to take the obvious photo of the Pass of Brander from the carpark.

The other favourite view is from the Connel Bridge looking toward Ben Cruachan; this time, the mountain was hiding under a rain cloud. The Falls of Lora tidal race below the bridge was flowing pretty fast, with the incoming tide.

Around Inverary

At the start of October, I spent a happy Saturday on a photo-walk organized by a friend around Inverary in Argyll, the group numbering nearly 20 folks.

It was quite a day – over 7 miles walked, folks socialized with, the town and surrounding landscapes investigated.

We started with a trip up the bell-tower and the adjacent All Saints’ Scottish Episcopal Church in the middle of town:

After that, we visited Inverary Jail – quite interesting to get a glimpse of the conditions folks lived in. A friendly guard posed for us:

As we were walking around to the castle for lunch, there was a burst of sunlight over the landscape. A few days prior to the excursion I had discovered an old Pentax film camera in a storage box, and loaded it with film and acquired an extra 50mm prime lens for it, along with an adapter to the Sony NEX-7. So this is Strone Point and the top of Glen Kinglas, on an old 50mm f/1.7 “nifty fifty” Pentax PK-fit lens:

We had lunch in the Inverary Castle tearooms:

Inverary Castle

Inverary Castle

The afternoon was spent climbing up Dun na Cuaiche. I was impressed to see what an effect the geology has on the area, as (igneous) felsite hills to the north of the town give way to psammite (partially metamorphosed sedimentary) bedrock along the shore of Loch Fyne. The watchtower is a folly – the only thing it looks out over is the castle itself, affording no real protection from anyone else feeling like invading!

 

Inverawe Impressions (8/10)

Where we walked.

The old fellow was the first dog with whom I’d found an understanding. I remember it well – sitting in the back garden in the middle of one’s labours, he came around, sat beside me and basically said “look, it’s TLC behind the flappers, OK?”, and that was the moment of breakthrough. When he departed, I took the photo of Ben Cruachan beyond the trees in his honour; every time I’ve passed that spot since, I remember the ol’ dog – with much fondness.