A few photos from an afternoon stroll around Lady Mary’s Walk outside Crieff, and up Laggan Hill.
River-bank shenanigins:
Views from the riverbank: washed-up plant matter dangling as light reflects across the water.
I’m pretty sure this is evidence of beavers on the River Earn – tree bark removed up to about 2.5′ above the ground with a fine repetitive chisel marking pattern remaining.
Sparseness: a few bright red berries remaining on bare twigs
I’m pretty sure this is evidence of beavers on the River Earn – tree bark removed up to about 2.5′ above the ground with a fine repetitive chisel marking pattern remaining.
Along an avenue of Beech trees
Details that catch one’s eye even in a well-known location: the avenue of beech trees along Lady Mary’s Walk outside Crieff
A well-known scene: the avenue of beech trees along Lady Mary’s Walk outside Crieff
A well-known scene: the avenue of beech trees along Lady Mary’s Walk outside Crieff
A simple silhouette: almost-bare beech tree branches and twigs, a filigree against the sky beyond.
And a favourite tree – always think it looks italicised, leaning at that angle.
One of my favourite trees up Laggan Hill – there’s something aesthetically pleasing about the way this old tree leans –
An unusual choice of place to visit on the last day of one’s holidays, but an important monument to Highland/Caithness history nonetheless, and one ideally suited to a bleak cold foggy day, too.
Forced off the land as part of the Highland Clearances, people from the surrounding areas (Ousdale, Auchencraig) sought refuge at Badbea. Not the most hospitable area to try and make home, situated right on perilous cliff-tops in a location so windy the cattle and even children had to be tied down to stop them being blown away.
Ignoring the previous post about offensive misuse of woodland, my fourth day of the holiday started out pretty well, with a trip to John o’Groats – awful tourist-trap of a place but at least they’ve renovated the hotel since I was last there and the ice-cream (2 scoops) was excellent.
The famous hotel at John o’Groats. I’m pleased to see it’s had a much-needed renovation since I was last there.
A total tourist-dump, but at least one of the shops offers rather good icecream on a sunny day.
The famous hotel at John o’Groats. I’m pleased to see it’s had a much-needed renovation since I was last there.
A total tourist-dump, but at least one of the shops offers rather good icecream on a sunny day.
A ferry waiting in the harbour at John o’Groats
A ferry waiting in the harbour at John o’Groats
The sea stacks themselves are pretty awesome to behold, middle red sandstone showing evidence of having formerly been attached to the land but eroded away by the sea.
We proceeded to Duncansby Head – ignoring the lighthouse, walking down the coastline to the sea stacks. On the way, a large group – maybe 60 folks – were crowding some of the cliff-tops looking south, watching a small pod of Orcas swimming off distant headlands. Unfortunately the one kind of lens I didn’t have with me then was a long zoom – but the shouts of joy when one of the orcas blew or jumped were incredible.
The far north-east corner of Scotland – subtle haze looking south into the light through the mist.
As I shot this from a well-known viewpoint, there was a crowd of approximately 60 humans around, all watching a herd of orcas swimming off the far headland.
The far north-east corner of Scotland – subtle haze looking south into the light through the mist.
As I shot this from a well-known viewpoint, there was a crowd of approximately 60 humans around, all watching a herd of orcas swimming off the far headland.
Coastline around the far north-east corner of Scotland:
Coastline around the far north-east corner of Scotland:
A better angle on the stacks – with the sun bright due south at noon, I walked further down the coast beyond them and looked back up north instead.
A better angle on the stacks – with the sun bright due south at noon, I walked further down the coast beyond them and looked back up north instead.
On the way back, a disturbance in the water just away from the cliffs caught my eye: a peculiar kind of standing wave with the shape staying more or less constant. Obviously a conflict of two tides, one running along the north coast between the mainland and Orkney, the other flowing up the North Sea; on checking wikipedia later, that corner of the Pentland Firth is known for two tidal races, the “Duncansby Race” and the “Boars of Duncansby”.
Wave interference – a standing wave pattern at the eastern end of the Pentland Firth – a tidal race as the east/west and north/south currents conflict around Duncansby Head.
I’m not sure if this is the Duncansby Race or even the Boars of Duncansby, but it caught my eye as I was heading back up the coast.
Saturday was one of those strange days where the weather forecast changed, leaving me not particularly inspired where to go take the camera. But I carried on regardless up to Kinloch Rannoch and climbed Craig Varr. The views on the way up were pleasant: nice trees silhouetted against the sky, views along Loch Rannoch; as I reached the top of the crag, however, the mist came down reducing visibility to barely 100yd with low cloud flowing over the trees in front.
Descending, below the cloud level, I could see clouds zipping along above Loch Rannoch like a steam-train, the mountains opposite appearing and receding in the mist.
Sparse trees on Creag an Fhithirich, better known as the Sleeping Giant: a beautiful lumpy shapely crag in the foreground before Meall Dearg across the valley from Craig Varr.
Simple things: abstract shapes of tree branches and twigs forming a fine filigree silhouetted against the sky beyond.
Some of my favourite landscape elements: a contrasty plasma-cloud sky and overlaping layers of mountains receding into the distance, the other side of the Black Woods of Rannoch.
Shape and solitude: a much-windswept lone tree battling the elements at the top of Craig Varr.
Shape and solitude: a much-windswept lone tree battling the elements at the top of Craig Varr.
On previous visits to the location I’ve tried to replicate another photographer’s work, getting the Sleeping Giant a mile away across the river in the corner of the photo; this time, however, thick mist at the top of the crag put paid to that idea, completely eliminating anything in the distance with a visibility of about 50yd.
On previous visits to the location I’ve tried to replicate another photographer’s work, getting the Sleeping Giant a mile away across the river in the corner of the photo; this time, however, thick mist at the top of the crag put paid to that idea, completely eliminating anything in the distance with a visibility of about 50yd.
An energetic climb up Craig Varr outside Kinloch Rannoch as the mist flowed over the mountains, followed by a quick descent to return to civilisation. This was taken from the way back down, as I paused to admire the clouds flowing fast along Loch Rannoch like steam trains.
An energetic climb up Craig Varr outside Kinloch Rannoch as the mist flowed over the mountains, followed by a quick descent to return to civilisation. This was taken from the way back down, as I paused to admire the clouds flowing fast along Loch Rannoch like steam trains.
