Strathy, 30th July 2005

On the way to the store in Bettyhill, just down the road from Strathy.

 OK, literally the furthest point on the mainland from my first post, Brownsea Island, in Poole Harbour, Strathy is a tiny, sprawling village on the most Northerly coastline of Scotland. My (then) girlfriend's mum, Wendy, has a crumbling old cottage up there.

A Strathy sunrise- from the cemetery.

13hours driving, but so worth it. If you time it right, you're driving through the centre of the Highlands on the A897, a single track road in a valley, just as the sun is rising over the peaks. Always made me laugh that we drove through Kinbrace, Forsinard and Achiemore, too, but Helen was always asleep when we did, so it was just me tittering to myself in a sleep deprived mania.

 We normally went to take a week away from it all- literally, as you couldn't pick up a phone signal in the cottage and had to climb the nearest hill to find a signal. The cottage had electricity and solid fuel heating, (a 'log fire' for all you young 'uns). It also had rising damp, mold, mice, spiders and most other rodents....

There were always jobs to do- chimney re-pointing, tin roof fixing, painting, sealing, guttering to put back, nests to remove. One time I drove there alone and installed a new bathroom, with tiling, and shared the bed with a family of mice.

But the photograph at the top of this post?

The red water that flows across Strathy beach

Well, what can I say about the skies in North Scotland- big, beautiful, dramatic, big... Helen and I would walk the area in the daytime, finding coves, beaches, light houses, abandoned vehicles, peaty red streams, and sometimes we'd just sit and watch the landscape as it changed. I always had my camera with me and took hundreds of photos- it really is a photographer's paradise up there.
 In the evenings we'd eat, then jump in the car and drive to a pub, or try to find somewhere to eat hot food, or a shop that sold provisions. None of that exists in Strathy.

One evening, as we drove to the nearest village shop, we came to a high point near Bettyhill- wow, we just had to stop, as had others. The view was spectacular- shades of green and grey stretched out in the hills and valleys before us. I took some shots as we stood there, transfixed, for about half an hour, before reluctantly continuing to the store before it closed- no 24hour Tesco Express this place!

Returning from the shop in Bettyhill.

On our return, we were once again hit by the fabulous sunset and stopped the car in the same spot. I shot a few more photos, and we waited there until the sun and colour had gone and the cold crept into our bones. This image was from that return journey.

Sunrise over the cemetery.

The following morning I woke early and left the cottage before sunrise. I had a small penlite torch and there was no street lighting so I stepped carefully. I headed off down the lane and entered the village cemetery with the intention of following the path down to the beach, but as I opened the gate, I turned and saw the sunrise had already started, so I started taking pictures in the cemetery instead, looking for dramatic juxtapositions with the ancient crosses and the brilliant colours behind them. It was my first sunrise shooting experience and I was amazed to find I only got about 15 minutes before the colours disappeared and daylight poured into the valley. I sat and watched it for another few minutes, then returned to the cottage to share my cold feet with Helen, who was still curled up warm in bed...