FORAGING ON SKYE
In August 2017 I found myself driving to a beautiful Western Isle on the coast of Scotland for a day visit. To this day, this location continues to be a popular tourist destination, and is well known for its dramatic cliffs, its infamous lookout bothies and its unpredictable weather. Over the last couple of years, I’ve attempted to return to Skye for a longer stay. Unfortunately, something has always happened to cancel the trip i.e an allergic reaction and then Storm Ali.
When I was approached by Scottish Sporting Journal to visit this place in a slightly different way, I jumped at the opportunity. This was a dream pitch for me, aligning with my exploration into Rural Life photojournalism perfectly. The brief was as follows:
To shoot and write the Skye foraging feature with Mitchell Partridge of Skye Ghillie, capturing the beauty of the island and this ethical, back-to-nature practice.
You can order the full first edition online here. Read More
It has felt like early summer these past few days with sunlight absorbing into my skin with a serene ease. It was last Thursday and I woke up to the birds singing, and something like life moved through the air. Cold and still and bright with a change of season. It was then that I realised signs of growth were all around me. Snowdrops bloomed and buds started to appear on branches, all of these subtle changes that were hard to believe I’d missed.
Plans to pick up my friends on the way over to the Lake District had been made, and I rushed to leave on time. Only a month had passed since my last visit with Robyn, but I already craved the intimacy of mountains around me. I can still remember visiting the Lakes for the first time with my dad, after he’d convinced me to go fell walking with him. We drove through Glenridding and Patterdale, weaving in-between the narrow roads lined by trees and lakeside cottages. We’d hike above Ullswater, sometimes taking a dog or two to enjoy the walk with us. I loved these day trips, and found myself wanting to go back for longer and explore more single track roads and hidden spots. I must have spent about three weeks there last year, visiting in spring, summer, autumn, and again in early January to see the snow hugging the peaks. It lay like a blanket, the mountains in hibernation for the coming spring. Read More
March came and the first signs of spring were emerging. Slowly, snowdrops fought to the surface against hard ground, then the land seemed to swell from the thaw and birds started to chirp in the early hours. Sunlight spilled through my windowpane, diffusing through condensed glass before casting a glow of promise into my attic room, waking me from groggy sleep. I never seemed to get enough rest during winter. The long hours of darkness merged both days and nights together. Comfort of warm blankets became increasingly desired, and leaving the cosiness felt unnatural. It wasn't until spring had started properly, bringing more hours of daylight with it, that I started to feel like the hibernation was over and I could truly stretch out with yawn, ready to start the day.
I'll never tire of the fresh air that fills my lungs whilst I watch the sun rise on cool mornings, enjoying the view with a smile lingering at the corner of my mouth. Mist lifted from the fields, casting beautiful pastel tones across my field of vision. Drives to and from home were spent watching the lambs skip and jump in the warmth of sunny days, a blissful break from the rain and fog that liked to hug the ground. Packing up my car, and finishing the warm mug of sugary tea, I headed off towards Scotland for my first adventure on home turf in 2018. Read More