Trip Report : Suilven in Summer
I remember a time before YouTube took over the world when trip reports and website blogs were a key source of inspiration for the budding landscape photographer. Over the years the traditional website blog seems to have fallen out of favour, replaced by an endless stream of shorts, reels and copycat vlogs with clickbait titles, sensationalist thumbnails and awful musical accompaniment.
I often find myself falling down the rabbit hole of rage filled algorithmic induced scrolling, lamenting the days when people used to share their experiences through the written word accompanied by a few carefully chosen photographs which told their own story, without the need for endless B-roll, drone footage and self involved pieces to camera, the creation of which which most definitely gets in the way of actually making the images themselves.
The reality is that very few photographers that manage to tell a compelling story through their videos actually manage to also tell a compelling story through the images they create whilst they are undoubtedly distracting themselves by recording the unique process of setting up a tripod or showing what a polariser does to an image for the 100th time. In my opinion, the images created whilst making a video are the first things to suffer.
The benefit of a written trip report is that it allows the photographer to focus on the experience of making the images themselves in the field, and then reflect on that process and the outcomes after the fact. Or at least that’s what I expect is the case - having never written a blog like this before, I could actually be talking absolute shite.
All of which is a long winded introduction to my first ever trip report, written about a decade after this type of thing was actually popular. I can console myself that whilst very few people will actually read the report, it’s creation will result in me actually processing both the images you see here as well as the experience itself, something which I am ordinarily terrible at.
The trip in question certainly has some redeeming qualities that mean the process of writing a few words and editing the pictures aren’t dispiriting enough for me to abandon the very idea before I’ve even begun:
It was short - a long weekend away with two nights camping and a bit of very boggy walking in between.
It was something I’d wanted to for a very long time - A summit camp on Suilven in the height of summer, when the grasses and lochans were at their most vibrant.
It surpassed long held expectations - Some incredible light and a few unexpected surprises in the middle of a summer which on the whole has been pretty rubbish for photography.
It was productive. I had one shot in mind and got perfect conditions to execute it. Everything else felt like a bonus.
Sunset on the first night was a stunner so the obligatory tent shot was very much justified.
The first night was spent camping at the base of Suilven, having walked in from Inverkirkaig via the Falls of Kirkaig and detoured off path to some lochans at the northwest corner of the mountain. I’d wanted to explore this area for a number of years, having seen some of the work my old pal Alex Nail has produced in this area. I was with Iain Mcleod, a fantastic photographer who lives just down the road from me. As usual, Iain managed to pack smaller and lighter than me, despite seemingly having twice as much gear as I had. Underfoot conditions were wet and boggy, not surprising given the wet summer we have had in the Northwest this year. Things actually improved once we headed off path.
Camp one was a beauty - nestled in amongst the Knock and Lochan landscape that gives this area so much of it’s rough edged charm. We found a flat spot to pitch the tents with great views north to Quinag and the bulk of Suilven rising to the east. Completely idyllic.
I made the fateful mistake of thinking that compositions would be easy to come by - with so many small lochans, knolls and boulders in the foreground and such an imposing background to work with, I assumed things would be fairly straightforward. If anything, our proximity to Suilven created a number of issues, and with a steady breeze blowing any idea of capturing reflections of the mountain in the lochans was initially abandoned.
Let just say it was a struggle, and at the time I was incredibly frustrated given the amazing lighting conditions we had and the feeling that I’d definitely not found a compelling enough composition to do them justice. The summer sunset just got better and better and we had a 5 minute period where the wind dropped completely - just enough time to get eaten alive by the midges and increase the frustration of not finding something spectacular to work with.
On reflection, I’m happy but not blown away by the images I captured on that first evening. I think I did a decent job of resolving some of the compositional challenges and making the correct compromises without resorting to plagiarising compositions I’d seen from other photographers. I’m also very aware that it usually takes me a few visits to a location to understand exactly what it is I’d like to capture, and the whole experience of the landscape and the variety of images I came away with most definitely highlights that a return trip to this area is both warranted and justified.
I returned to this composition as the light developed through the evening - I like this perspective of Suilven and the fact you can see the distant peaks in the background, but I’m sot sure I fully resolved the composition.
One that got away? Reflecting on it now, I should have returned to this composition when the sun was bathing the scene in pre-sunset light.
The next morning was a leisurely affair - the forecasted overnight rain lasted well beyond sunrise, and it didn’t take long to turn off the 3:30am alarm and roll back over to sleep. With only a few miles to cover that day. we were in no rush to break camp and push on. Long gone are the days when mileage and elevation gained would determine the success of a day out in the hills - these days I’d much rather enjoy a few cups of coffee by the tent and take it easy. The rain had stopped, the midges were stifled by the breeze and we had some sensational views to enjoy.
Camp on the morning of day 2, looking towards Suileag Bothy with Quinag beyond. Such a beautiful landscape, and the perfect place to spend a leisurely morning.
We carried along the base of the mountain, exploring some small lochans and enjoying the dappled summer sunlight. Whilst the mid day sun was harsh, there is something about the vibrant summer greens with dark clouds above that brings the mountain lochans alive. We had some fun at one of the larger lochans, exploring the reed beds with views over Canisp beyond.
Metallic lochan. I really enjoy capturing the way that water interacts with the overhead lighting conditions.
Eventually we ventured onwards, meeting the main path at the base of the mountain and gaining height quickly despite the heavy backpacks. It was perfect walking weather with a refreshing breeze and we gained the col between the twin summits in no time at all, only stopping to gather enough water for the next 24 hours on the mountain.
At this stage I was feeling uncharacteristically optimisitic that the shot I had in mind would be realised. Conditions were perfect, with dappled sunlight finding its way through plentiful gaps in the overhead cloud cover. I was excited for the evenings photography as we set up the tents.
I’d previously camped in the very same spot a number of years earlier, capturing ‘Suilvens Shadow’, a gallery favourite and an image I was very happy with, particularly at that point in my photography development. I had every intention of replicating the same composition if the opportunity presented itself, but what I really wanted was a shot looking south over Fionn Loch, Loch Sianosgaig and the distant peaks of Coigach.
This was by no means a new idea - I’d been undoubtedly influenced by the image included in Joe Cornish’s book ‘Scotland’s Mountains’ and Alex Nail’s homage to that picture in his book ‘Northwest’ (Alex’s image). Alex has written previously about just how inspired he was when seeing Joe’s image and whilst I can’t claim to have had the same level of epiphanic reaction to the scene, I recognised the potential of the view on my first summit camp and tried my best to capture my own version. On reflection after the fact, I felt that the images I captured on that early May trip were lacking the vibrancy and freshness that a summer colour pallet would provide.
Within minutes of arriving on the summit, conditions became interesting with rain clouds passing over the distant mountains and creating some nice layers across the landscape. It was mid afternoon and the overall lighting was harsh, but oftentimes in summer it’s the passing weather that can bring dynamism and interest to a scene.
Whilst my focus was on shooting south, there was interest in every direction, and the bright lighting meant I could shoot handheld.
The first sign we might get some interesting weather conditions throughout the late afternoon and evening. A passing cloud covers Stac Pollaidh in a veil of rain.
Looking back down into the Valley across the lochans we had traversed earlier in the day.
As late afternoon turned into early evening, we made camp and had a quick brew. Conditions were changing all the time, so it was important to be ready and able to react to the changing light quickly in order to capture the very best conditions. This usually means standing and watching the weather and light change, and for me at least it means I usually shoot the same composition many multiple times over the space of a few hours.
Sometimes this can be pretty boring, and you end up with multiple versions of the exact same picture. On this occasion however, the lighting and prevailing weather conditions changed so much that I came away with multiple different versions of the same scenes that I’m very happy with and met all of my most optimistic expectations.
Very occasionally you get conditions that unfold before you which compliment a scene perfectly and are beyond any pre-conceived ideas you might have had. These are exciting moments - the hard part is not letting this excitement get in the way of technical execution of the image, not least because these conditions can often involve high winds, rain or fast moving clouds, all elements that can quickly challenge the pre-occupied photographer. On this evening it was some fast moving rain clouds coming in from the west and the sheets of rain falling across the distant hills which ultimately resulted in a unique and special rendering of the scene. I’m very pleased with this image, and it’s one that I will be printing large and hanging in the gallery to share the experience with customers.
My absolute highlight from the trip. The shot I envisaged, in conditions which really compliment the scene. The passing rain showers bring depth to the scene, and provide some much needed balance to the bulk of Cul Mor on the left hand side.
It’s fair to say I was a very happy photographer. I was confident I’d captured something both special and fleeting and felt lucky that any preconceived hopes I’d had for the evening had been surpassed. Anything else I managed to capture on the trip would be a bonus. Little did I know that my good fortune wasn’t over!
When a rainbow appeared between Suilven’s secondary summit and Cul Mor I raced across to the other side of the hill - I’d already scoped out the location I wanted to be and I was there in less than a minute. Once again, it was a case of remaining calm and in control of executing the technical aspects of the image making, something I must confess became a challenge when the left hand side of the Rainbow developed soon after.
The summit of Meall Meadhonach at Suilven’s eastern flank. It was spectacular to witness and a lot of fun to capture.
In truth I managed to capture multiple versions of the same scenes that evening that I was very happy with. As sunset approached, the cloud cover remained interesting and there was some lovely subtle lighting across the landscape. It was a brilliant evening of photography.
My preferred version of this scene - Whilst it might lack the spectacular rainbow, the lighting is nicely balanced and the clouds above really compliment the scene.
What a landscape!
We’d had our fair share of good fortune on this trip, and I wasn’t overly disappointed when the 3:30 alarm was accompanied by the unmistakeable sound of heavy rain on the flysheet. Another lazy breakfast was followed by a very boggy and somewhat tiring descent back to the car at Inverkirkaig. It had been a very productive, enjoyable and rewarding few days of photography, and an experience which has sustained me throughout the rest of what has turned out to be a disappointing and frustrating summer of photography.
I’ll hopefully document more photography outings in the future, and will likely delve into the archives and share the stories behind some of my other favourite images from years gone by as the summer season comes to a close and the gallery begins to quieten down. In the meantime, I’ll be busy printing and framing my favourites from this memorable camp on Suilven, and hopefully they will resonate with those visiting the gallery.
Thanks for reading. All of the images shared can be purchased as fine art prints, with prices starting from £35. If you would like know more, please contact me and we can discuss the options.