6 Favourite Images from 2024...
Capturing the Relationship Between Nature and Humanity…
In my previous blog, I shared six of my favourite landscape images that showcase the harmony between the sky, land, and water. These shots celebrate nature’s unspoiled beauty and the quiet majesty of the Scottish Highlands. But today, I want to shift focus to a different theme—and choose 6 of my favourite images from 2024 which explores the delicate relationship between man-made structures and the rugged natural landscapes that surround them. Specifically, I’ll touch into why I photograph elements like lighthouses, bothies, and ruins, and how these structures interact with the wild beauty of the Highlands.
The Scottish Highlands have a deep personal significance to me. Their history, rich in stories of struggle, survival, and decay, is woven into the very fabric of the land. For centuries, humans have lived alongside nature here, and many of the buildings left behind are enduring symbols of this intimate connection.
While much of the Highlands is untamed, there are subtle reminders of how humans have shaped and been shaped by this landscape. It’s this fascinating interplay between nature and man that drives my work.
So, here are my favourite 6 images of 2024 which include man made influences.
Dawn Breaking Over the Northern Highlands…
Capturing the image of Moine House in the northern Highlands of Scotland was a journey in itself, one where the experience far surpassed the final photograph. We set out from the hotel long before the first light of dawn, driving for three hours through total darkness. The roads, narrow and winding, were covered in overnight snow, and our progress was slow.
We arrived at our destination 3 hours later just 30 minutes before sunrise, a window of time that felt both fleeting and full of potential. Standing there, the cold biting at our faces, I had a gut feeling that we were going to get lucky. The anticipation was thick in the air, and for a moment, everything felt still, as though nature itself was holding its breath. The challenge, however, wasn’t the light—it was choosing where to stand. The landscape in front of us was so full of photographic possibilities, with Moine House commanding attention in every direction, framed by the rugged peaks of the Highlands.
The pre-sunrise colours added an almost surreal quality to the scene, with the sky shifting from deep blues to fiery oranges and pinks. The light was soft yet dramatic, casting a glow over the bleak moorland, making the cold sub-zero temperatures feel like an afterthought. In that moment, all of us, wrapped in the cold of the morning, were completely oblivious to the freezing air, so absorbed were we in the raw beauty unfolding before us.
The scene before me—Moine House, a solitary structure surrounded by the wild and untamed landscape of the northern Highlands—has become one of my favourite images of 2024. But more than the photograph, it was the experience of being there, of feeling the pulse of nature and the connection to the land, that made it truly unforgettable. The image may be what I took home, but the moment of capturing it, with the excitement and serenity mingling in that chilly dawn, will stay with me far longer than any photograph ever could.
Storm’s Embrace: Clashnessie’s Radiant Bow…
This photograph holds a special place for me—not only because it earned me the prestigious title of Scottish Seascape Photographer of the Year 2024, but also because of the experience that led to it. Even without the award, I would have included this image. The moment was made unforgettable by the company of three close friends—workshop participants whose camaraderie and shared enthusiasm truly enhanced the experience.
Our day began in the renowned Lochinver Larder, where we gathered over steaming cups of coffee and one of their world-famous pies. I opted for the Pork, Chorizo & Manchego pie—utterly delicious, the flavours melting together perfectly. It was so tempting to indulge in their Rhubarb & Strawberry dessert pie as well, but after savouring the savoury delight, I managed to resist and, after paying the bill, we headed for Clashnessie along the coast.
Arriving at our destination, the weather was in flux, as if nature itself couldn’t decide what mood to set. The clouds rolled across the sky, alternately parting for bursts of sunshine and shrouding the landscape in stormy clouds driven by strong winds. I knew that the position of the sun—when it chose to peek through—suggested the possibility of a rainbow, and I had a strong feeling that if one appeared, it would arch directly over the building we were photographing.
I made sure to alert my Group, encouraging them to stay alert and ready for the potential spectacle. And then, as if on cue, it happened. The skies unleashed a breathtaking display—double rainbows, then triple rainbows, all dancing in front of us, casting vibrant, ethereal arcs of colour across the landscape. The scene was so vivid and magical that it seemed almost unreal.
The moment felt like a gift, one that I knew would resonate deeply with me, both as a photographer and as someone who treasures these shared experiences with close friends. The resulting image—one of my personal favourites of 2024—captures not only the stunning beauty of Clashnessie but also the joy of the moment, the thrill of witnessing nature’s magic unfold in front of our lenses.
Frozen Vigil: Lighthouse in the Tempest…
You only have to glance at the camera settings to realise this photograph is far from your typical landscape image—ISO 4000 and a shutter speed of 1/4000th of a second! That alone tells the story of the conditions I was facing—a snow blizzard so intense that anything less would have rendered the shot impossible. The scene was a swirling vortex of chaos, with snowflakes whipping through the air at breakneck speed, creating an ever-changing veil of white that threatened to swallow everything, including the lighthouse.
Standing there, braced against the gale, I could feel the raw power of nature pressing down on me. The wind howled, flinging icy needles of snow against my face, and my fingers struggled to adjust the camera dials, already numb from the cold. Every second felt like a battle against the elements, and every frame captured felt like a victory.
The lighthouse itself stood resolute, a beacon of calm amidst the storm. Its light cut through the blizzard in rhythmic flashes, a steady reminder of its purpose: to guide and endure, no matter the fury of the storm. The contrast was mesmerising—the warm glow of the beacon against the cold, relentless whiteout surrounding it.
This photograph is more than an image—it’s an experience, a memory of standing alone in the storm, feeling both the fury and the beauty of nature. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the most challenging conditions yield the most unforgettable results. And when I look at this image, I can still feel the sting of the snow, hear the roar of the wind, and see the light of that resilient lighthouse cutting through the storm.
Bridging the Hebrides: South Uist to Eriskay…
This photograph holds a significance for me that it almost certainly wouldn’t have without the presence of the causeway linking South Uist and Eriskay. It’s a scene shaped as much by human influence as by the natural beauty of the surrounding landscape. The causeway, with its subtle lines and understated presence, anchors the image, giving it a sense of purpose and narrative that the untouched expanse of water and land alone couldn’t provide.
What captivates me about this man-made structure is its quiet defiance. It weaves through the rugged beauty of the Hebrides, connecting islands and lives, carving a path through an otherwise wild and untamed landscape. Without it, the photograph would still capture a beautiful scene, but the causeway transforms it into something more—it becomes a story of connection, resilience, and the coexistence of human effort and nature’s grandeur.
The causeway’s influence extends beyond the physical; it creates a striking juxtaposition. On one side, you have the raw, untamed beauty of the sea and sky—forces that have shaped these islands for millennia. On the other, you see the subtle assertion of humanity, a reminder that we too leave our mark, even in places as remote as South Uist and Eriskay. The structure doesn’t dominate the frame, but it gives the image its focus, a clear point of interest amidst the vastness of the Hebridean landscape.
In many ways, this photograph is as much about people as it is about place. It’s about the connection the causeway represents, both physically between the islands and metaphorically between nature and human effort. Without the causeway, the scene might have been serene, even beautiful—but for me, it’s the presence of this unassuming, practical structure that elevates the image, giving it depth and meaning that lingers far beyond the moment it was captured.
Highland Glow: Sunset Along The Highland Shores…
This stretch of coastline at Blanakiel, in the far left corner of mainland Scotland, has always held a special place in my heart. I’ve been photographing this spot for many years, and each visit never fails to deliver something new and captivating. The house at the end of the beach is a notable feature—though I now know it’s available for rent, I’ve even considered using it for my Assynt Workshops. Despite its stunning interior, the house always seems rather austere, standing as a stark contrast to the wild beauty surrounding it. Yet, it remains a focal point of any image captured along the beach.
The weather at Blanakiel typically rolls in from the right, giving me a sense of whether a dramatic scene will unfold. On this particular December evening, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect—would it be a blazing sunset or a stormy one? Either way, I knew it was going to be interesting. And sure enough, it proved to be a stormy sunset—a raw, dramatic display of nature’s power that was nothing short of breathtaking.
The colours in the sky shifted in unexpected ways, with deep hues of red and purple meeting the moody, turbulent clouds. The light danced on the waves, creating a perfect harmony between the storm and the serenity of the landscape. Balnakiel, as always, delivered a spectacular moment, and this photograph, with its intensity and beauty, earned its place in my favorite six images of 2024. It captures the essence of this magical corner of Scotland—a place where the weather and landscape constantly surprise, inspire, and remind me why I return time and again.
Awakening the Isles: Sunrise Over a Hebridean Bothy…
The scene is quintessentially Hebridean—a tranquil fishing bothy perched beside a serene loch, its weathered walls telling silent tales of countless dawns and quiet solitude. The stillness of the water mirrors the soft pastel hues of the sky, as the first light of a Hebridean sunrise stretches gently across the landscape. I’ve been photographing this scene for at least 8 years now, and it still remains one of my favourite locations in the Outer Hebrides.
In the distance, the rugged mountains rise like sentinels, their peaks softened by a delicate mist that lingers in the cool morning air. The light dances across the loch’s surface, creating ripples of gold and lavender that fade into the depths of the reflected sky. The bothy, with its simple, enduring charm, anchors the scene—a quiet testament to the harmony between human presence and the raw beauty of nature in this remote corner of Scotland.
The landscape is alive with quiet energy. A gentle breeze carries the faint scent of salt and peat, rustling the grasses along the shore. The sky, painted in shades of peach, lilac, and blue, shifts subtly as the sun climbs, casting its first golden rays across the rugged terrain. This is a moment of pure serenity, where the beauty of the Hebrides feels almost otherworldly, yet deeply grounding.
This photograph captures not just a place, but a feeling—a sense of connection to a landscape that has remained timeless, untouched, and profoundly beautiful.
My Final Thoughts
The Scottish Highlands reveal a profound harmony between nature and humanity’s legacy. Through my lens, I aim to capture how man-made structures like bothies and lighthouses interact with the wild—sometimes standing defiant, sometimes succumbing to nature’s quiet reclamation. Each photograph tells a story of resilience, decay, and balance, reminding us of the deep interconnection between the natural world and our fleeting presence within it.
By documenting this relationship, I hope to preserve these stories and inspire a greater respect for both the untamed beauty of the Highlands and the marks left by those who lived among them.