Glencoe: The Dream Morning
Buachaille Etive Mòr rising above the cloud under moonlight
Firstly, welcome to my first photography blog! I created this website to showcase my favourite work in the way I want it to be viewed—to escape the enforced layout of social media platforms and their frustrating algorithms. I also wanted a place to discuss my work in more detail, share stories of my adventures, and perhaps even inspire others to get out in nature.
My wife and I have spent the last year converting a medium wheelbase, high-top Peugeot Boxer van into a fully off-grid campervan, giving us the freedom to travel anywhere we want and escape everyday life. It really is a little house on wheels—I’ll create a blog about it when it’s completely finished. The term “game-changer” is often overused, but our campervan truly is one for landscape photography. It allows me to park up on location and spend as much time there as I want (parking restrictions and access permitting). In the past, if I wanted to go out for sunrise, I would have to set my alarm for, quite frankly, obscene hours to drive to my chosen location, ready for the best conditions. Now I can park up the day before, sleep comfortably, and wake up right where I need to be. This blog describes a morning that exemplifies this game-changer in no uncertain terms.
Last month (September 2024), my wife and I embarked on our first proper campervan road trip. Our destination was the Isle of Skye, a fairly remote island off the north coast of Scotland, 450 miles from our home in Nottingham. On the way, we stopped at the world-famous location of Glencoe for three nights—a place we had never visited before. We arrived around 5 PM and parked in a small car park/layby off the main road (A82). We had really lucked out with the weather: it was 19 degrees, with no clouds and no wind. While this may not be ideal for landscape photography, where blue skies can complicate the composition of “grand landscape” images, I was still excited.
While cooking dinner, all I could think about was the potential for sunrise the following morning. High daytime temperatures, followed by a night of clear skies, high humidity, low wind, and a drop in temperature, create the perfect recipe for a temperature inversion. Usually, the temperature decreases as you gain altitude, but under these conditions—particularly in mountainous areas—this can switch around, causing fog or cloud to form in the valleys. There was no question that I needed to get above this for sunrise to see the mountaintops poking through the cloud. My alarm was set for 4 AM…
When I woke the following morning, it was dark and gloomy. Low clouds concealed the mountains. This was absolutely perfect. I left my wife sleeping in the van and began a rather challenging walk up Beinn a'Chrulaiste, a mountain on the opposite side of the valley from Buachaille Etive Mòr. As mentioned earlier, I’d never been here before, so I loaded the app “All Trails” on my phone and did my best to follow the trail using GPS. There was no real path; it was boggy and slippery, and after about 15 minutes, I found myself in the clouds. For the next 40 minutes, I could barely see anything as I slowly ascended the incredibly steep mountainside, trying not to fall in the mud. It’s times like these that you really do question your sanity.
Suddenly, there was clarity. The fog had lifted, and I could see the mountainside above me. I turned around to witness one of the most incredible views: the whole valley beneath was filled with cloud, with mountains poking through like little islands. This went on as far as I could see. It was absolutely unbelievable—a dream come true. The misery of the slog up the hillside was instantly replaced by elation. I made my way a bit further up to a rocky outcrop and took in the view. The magnificent Buachaille Etive Mòr towered above the valley in front of me, with the full moon shining above. I quickly got to work with my camera and captured one of my favourite images, shown at the top of this blog. The relatively small aperture of f/11 created a stunning “sun star” effect on the moon, which I’d never attempted before. It was a simple single exposure of 10 seconds to get the best quality image I could under the low pre-dawn light. In post-processing, I brightened the image, lifted the shadows, and cloned out some dust spots (I forgot to clean my sensor before the trip!).
I spent a while searching for different compositions, looking for various foregrounds to include, but ultimately, I felt that the most straightforward shot of just the distant view was best. I watched the light slowly change as the sun began to rise, and eventually, the Buachaille and surrounding mountains began to glow orange. I captured a six-shot panorama of the view, which I was really happy with.
I finally sent my DJI Mini 3 Pro drone up to get a different perspective and shoot a bit of video (something I’m very new to). It was the perfect opportunity to get a ‘selfie’ from above, to really set the scene of the morning.
After an hour or so taking it all in, I made my way back down the mountain, which was far easier in the light! A nice surprise before going back down through the cloud layer was seeing a Brocken Spectre. This was created by my shadow being cast onto the cloud beneath. The water droplets refract and backscatter the light to form a sort of rainbow halo. Pretty cool!
So there we have it: an amazing morning that I was incredibly lucky to witness. Obviously, it required a lot of effort and an understanding of the weather forecast, but to experience this on my first morning in Glencoe—a landscape photographer’s paradise—was unbelievable. I really can’t wait for the many adventures we’re yet to have in our van.
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