After trekking a few miles from a small car park at Huisinis, which itself was at the end of a long single track B road, I camped in a very isolated position, looking over at the Isle of Scarp.
The following morning, I awoke at 3.20am and walked a further 2 miles, to the end of the peninsula, to watch the majesty of the sun rising over the horizon in absolute solitude. The warm, golden light reflected on the rocks in front of me, silhouetting the distant mountains. This image was a long exposure (201 seconds) as I wanted to soften the choppy waters and elongate the few clouds on the horizon.
This is a curious shot of an end of day scene in the Outer Hebrides where the setting sunlight was caught in the clouds at the centre of the scene, creating a dual light source. This state lasted for an hour. I can truthfully say I have never seen something like this before. I had trekking a few miles into the middle of nowhere, to free camp for the night. My tent was about 2-3km from where I took this shot. There was absolutely no one around for miles, making this scene all the more eerie.
Last couple of shots from Iceland. On the day I finally completed my circumnavigation of the island on my trusty cycle, I went for a wonder around the shoreline of Reykjavik. I was treated to the most glorious light across the bay. The yellow light house a beacon at twilight just as it was at night.
Prior to arriving in the capital, I had camped on the shoreline of Jökulsárlón. This image was taken close to midnight. As Iceland is just south of the Arctic Circle, it has little darkness in the summer. However, even though it was meant to be the hottest time of the year, it was chilly, with temperatures still very much in single figures that evening.
Whilst out one evening in Devon, I was walking along the Jurassic coastline when the light made me stop in my tracks. Using a Lee Filter Big Stopper, I softened the rolling waves into silky smooth wisps, lapping against the groyne.
As the light changed, the waves became ever more energetic. Soon, the pinky orange hues gave way to the grey blues post sunset, making the whole scene feel palpably colder.
At the edge of the world is a place called the Salar de Uyuni, in the altiplano in Bolivia. It feels alien, set at over 4000m high in the Andes, close to the gods. With the exception of the cactus, it is bereft of life. This hostile, baron environment is one of my favourite places on earth. There is a brutal simplicity to existence here.
Following on from my last entry, this was taken a few minutes prior to the last shot (below) in Alcudia, Mallorca. Unfortunately, I was not well positioned for the sunrise, which was behind the head of the peninsula, to my left. The reason for this was main due to the fact that the westerly facing headland was several kilometres on the other side of a private golf course and I had no idea how long it would have taken me to walk there. Has anybody ever made this journey?
One thing that resonated with me the most about this particular dawn was the strength of the yellow in the sky. Singapore tends to be far more orange due to pollutants in the atmosphere.
Dawn on a stretch of beach a few miles south of Tofino on the west coast of Vancouver Island, Canada. No another person around for miles, just the gentle lapping of the Pacific ocean against the shore. Mist was rising from the land, creating a very other-worldly effect.
Holiday season was well over and the temperature was only a just in double digits. Still, one of my favourite beaches in Canada.
Back in 2003, after completing a 4 month stint as expedition photographer for Raleigh International in Coyhaique, capital of Region XI in Chile, a few colleagues decided that the best way to end the experience was be to trek Torres del Paine, situated at the southern tip of Chile.
Amongst this ensemble, only three of us were foolhardy enough to attempt the full loop and circumnavigate the entire range. It was April, the very end of the season and all the refugios were being closed down for Winter. Consequently, we had to carry all of our food with us for the multi-day trek ahead.
Temperatures varied from a comfortable 20 degrees Celsius during the day to a chilly minus 20 degrees Celsius at night. We restricted our gear as best we could but our packs stilled weight in at just under 35kg each.
The effort, however, was more than worth it, as we were constantly treated to such beautiful vistas as the one above, with not a soul for miles to break the tranquility. In the end, it took Tom, Bill and I just under 8 days to complete the trek. I eagerly hope to return and do it once again in the future.
A decade ago, I was in southern Argentina, on my travels around South America. I have fond memories of camping out close to the Perito Moreno Glacier, with some friends from the Raleigh International expedition I had just completed. The previous night, we were kept awake by the violent sound of huge chunks of ice carving off the glacier.
I arose at 4am and walked to the glacier to watch dawn break. It was a truly spellbinding moment. Unfortunately, the next time I visited the glacier, you were no longer allowed to camp in the National Park, so a doubly lucky moment.
Here’s looking at you 2003!