The Photography of Dr. Jeff Harper

This blog entry is a little late in getting posted . . . my wonderful wife and I took this trip in mid-October 2014 . . . but the busyness of my life has, unfortunately, kept me from post-processing (I do very little) and posting.  ENJOY!

Oban Bay sunset on our Tattie Hols road trip.

In Scotland the schools have either a one or two week holiday, called The Tattie Hols, so the students can help harvest the potatoes. Not many young people harvest potatoes today, but the holiday remains.  I had a one-week holiday and, as we have done the past several years, took a road trip somewhere in Scotland.  We headed due west over the Grampian Mountains. This is the upper River Dee.

A beautiful glacier-cut valley in the Scottish Highlands.

We love our Scottish Highlands road trips.

Autumn is our favorite time of the year to be in the Highlands . . . the sky is so magnificent.

Highlands Fall colour.

Although there are very few houses in the Highlands, the ones that you do see are stately.

Our route skirted the Grampian Highlands along Loch Awe where we discovered the amazing St. Conan's Kirke.

It is rumored that a bone fragment of Robert the Bruce, King of Scotland 1306-1329, is buried here . . . but the LIGHT!

So much to see.  After a couple of days through the Highlands, we arrived at the Bridge of Lochay, near Killin.

We stayed the night in the old world Bridge of Lochay Hotel. 

The interior of the Bridge of Lochay Hotel had recently been tastefully renovated.

The Bridge of Lochay Hotel had a wonderful old intercom system that must have come when rural electrification arrived.

The hotel dining room was quaint . . .

. . . and the barman friendly and skilled.

I took an early morning walk across the bridge next to the hotel.

A thin light filtered through the trees.

Early morning along the River Lochay.

The River Lochay quickened as it fell under the bridge toward Loch Tay.

As we rounded a bend in the  road coming into Kenmore at the foot of Loch Tay we were stunned with this otherworldly sunset.

We stayed long enough with our mouths agape in wonder for the sunset to become golden.

On another morning near Loch Awe, we set off on a wooded trail.  There are many, many well-marked trails all over Scotland.

Tree.  Forest walk.

Our trail brought us along the shore of the loch.

Such beautiful scenery in Scotland.

Scenery to inspire a landscape artist.

The sky and light ever-changing . . . .

Migrating ducks were happy to dive for fish in the shallows.

We crossed Scotland to the west coast and the town of Oban for another fantastic sunset.  My wife loves oysters, and Oban has the best oysters in the world, she says.

We strolled along the Oban Esplanade during a stunning sunset one evening.

I had a wonderful amber ale with my seafood dinner in Oban, so we decided to see if we could find the brewery.  Loch Fyne, and the Fyne Ales, were only a few hours away.  We drove there and bought four cases of Jarl before heading on . . .

The bridge at the upper end of Loch Fyne.

The autumn hills across Loch Fyne. We had great oysters near here too.

Based on a restaurant tip, we headed down to Argylll from Oban . . . to find a brewery . . . and this sweet village.

 Our return route took us along Loch Lomond where we stayed overnight near the house-proud village of Aldochlay, before driving on to Glasgow.

I can't resist another photo of this lovely cottage and garden on Loch Lomond.

We stayed in Glasgow a few days before driving home to Aberdeen.  We love Glasgow, a city of 2.5 million souls.

We like walking around Glasgow.  There are many parks, but our favorite is the Glasgow Botanic Garden.

The greenhouses are fantastic.

It's nice to visit the tropical houses . . . we miss the tropical plants and heat of Bangkok sometimes.

The 12th century Glasgow Cathedral is certainly worth a visit. "It is also one of the few Scottish medieval churches (and the only medieval cathedral on the Scottish mainland) to have survived the Reformation not unroofed."

It goes without saying that the interior of Glasgow Cathedral is a phantasmagoria of images, light and shadow.

The pipe organ of Glasgow Cathedral.

I could have stayed all day in this old space.

The Museum of Modern Art in Glasgow with the famous statue of the Duke of Wellington with the traffic cone . . . yes, it is an art installation.

The interior of the Glasgow Museum of Modern Art.

We love to walk around Glasgow.  There is so much public art there . . . .

A winters' drive across western Scotland.

It was a five and a half hour drive from my home in Aberdeen to the Eilean Donan Castle in a heavy rain storm. I would stay the night nearby before crossing over to the Isle of Skye.

Amazing Scotland.

A cold mid-February day at the bridge to the Isle of Skye.

The Bridge of Skye opened in 1995.

The geography/geology of the Isle of Skye is like nothing else in the United Kingdom.

The roads on the Isle of Skye are narrow and, in general, hug the shore.  Many small waterfalls cascade all along the way.

As the road rises and falls along the sea, wonderful, moody vistas open up.  Here, an approaching snow squall creeps up the channel.

Occasional white cottages surprise along a green glen now and again.

The tiny roads wind along the seaside for miles and miles . . . always opening out on astonishing vistas.

Even the farmland had a strangeness abut it: the marks of time and human effort etched into its weird shapes.

The damp sleet and rain brought out the colors of the winter heather and straw.

Hillside waterfalls everywhere, nautical vistas, winter colors: Skye!

I stopped for coffee in the little town of Sligachan and this was my view from the cafe.

I was able to satisfy my lifelong lust for rusty corrugation and dilapidation on Skye.

Now and again I would pull over, eyes wide and mouth agape in wonder at the natural beauty of winter on Skye. Historical Sligachan Bridge.

The ever-changing weather on Skye sent me running for my car many  times.

Dustings of snow on the coastal hills of Skye.

The Skye upland pass . . . peat diggers have been here.

A marvel of geology.

The Isle of Skye is a popular destination in the seasons other than winter for rock climbers and mountaineers.

Waterfalls and wild mountain streams falling everywhere.

Wet and wild road across the Isle of Skye.

Farming, and shepherding, fishing, and tourism make up the local economy.

Marshland, inlets, heather, snow-capped peaks, wild weather, grand vistas . . . Skye has it all!

The clouds would break momentarily and sunny scenes would suddenly appear . . . I would pull over wherever I could and snap a few shots before running back to the car as the hail, sleet and snow quickly moved in.  A level 9 landscape photographers' challenge!

Boggy marsh, colorful hills, a cascading stream, and sheep.

Nature posing in a beautiful composition . . . just for me.

I had hoped to drive to the western tip of Skye, but my many stops for photos meant I only made it as far as Portree, a sweet village on the sound.  I had delicious soup and a shrimp sandwich in a small shop and chatted with a nice couple from Edinburgh.

On my way off the Isle of Skye in a strong gale in the fading winter light, I stopped and walked back up the Skye Bridge for a shot of the old lighthouse.

The view off the other side of the Bridge of Skye was up Loch Alsh toward the town of Kyle of Lochalsh.

In the last of the blue evening light . . . the view from the bridge across to the little village of Kyleakin ("Its name derives from 'Strait of Haakon' named after the King Haakon IV of Norway whose fleet moored there prior to the Battle of Largs in 1263 which ended Norwegian rule of the island.")

Sacks of scallop shells attest to the main product of the local fisheries.

I stayed in the little village of Dornie, just across the bridge and next to the much photographed Eilean Donan Castle.

My comfortable old Dornie Hotel.

I saw Eilean Donan castle morning and night.

The never tired of the view across Loch Duich:  Quintessential Scotland.

Eilean Donan in a driving sleet struck with the golden light of the setting sun.

My old Dornie Hotel was walking distance from the magnificent castle, so I walked over one evening to see it lit up in the darkness.  There were ghostlike traces about the sky that night.

This image, taken during a hard rain, popped out of my camera looking like this . . . . no explanation whatsoever.

My drive back home took me first up the A87 through rugged Glen Shiel toward Loch Ness.

Glen Sheil will lined on both sides by snow covered peaks that disappeared up into the white snowy mists.

Surrounded by snowy mountains, freshly coated.

I stopped often to photograph the stark winter beauty of Glen Sheil.

Glen Sheil winter vista near Loch Cluanie.

Snow on the Sgùrr Fhuaran.

Coming down out of Glen Sheil.

Snowy mountain tops disappearing in the falling snow above.

The snow came and went . . .

Around every bend . . . a new view.

Winter along the shores of Loch Cluanie.

First sighting of an old bridge.

I stopped along the River Moriston to gape at the old stone bridge in the freezing wind.

The drive through Glen Moriston offered many place to stop and enjoy and appreciate the views.

Winter road trips can be just as beautiful, if not more so, that any other season.

Forest reflections.

A magical experience to be standing out in a light rain in the silence of a forest stream.

Further along the road toward Loch Ness.  The damp winter colors were spectacular.

Had it been dry I would have walked down among this mystic grove.

I took many, many photos of Eilean Donan Castle. Many.  How could you not photograph this iconic landscape.

A lasting memory of my breathtaking winter sojourn to the Isle of Skye.

The drive was magnificent.

A recent trip to Thailand brought us back to our old stomping grounds of Pakkret . . . for a wonderful sunset.

An amazing colorful sunset . . .

A jet plan streaked the closing sunset.

The ubiquitous Buddhist spirit house is seen everywhere in Thailand.  I spotted this one while walking along a sandy road near the beach just north of Hua Hin in January of 2016.

Spirit houses are tended . . . by someone or many someones.  This particular spirit house was in a vacant field, not too far from several beach houses.

On certain Buddha days, people will adorn a spirit house with flower (or plastic flower) garlands.  The real flower garlands dry up and become, to my eye, even more beautiful.

The untended of the tending garlands . . . . magnificent!

Spirit houses are also places for performing Buddhist spiritual practices and rituals.

Various votive items are placed in these spiritual structures.  Some as help or accouterments of need to the inhabitors of the spirit house, and some as Buddhist veneration.

The color and textures of these dried votive garlands are captivating to me.

Even the plastic garlands, when covered with the age of layers of dust, are beautiful in time.

Time, weather, and craft.

I walked on down the sandy road in the heat.  I was happy that I had stopped to really see what was within this spirit house.

My friend Steve lives just south of Aberdeen and Stonehaven in the tiny Scottish seaside village of Catterline, Scotland.

One of my favorite places to eat is the Creel Inn, Catterline.  It's a 200 year old inn with great food and a fine selection of real ales.

After a significant conversation about literature, philosophy, and being-in-the-world, and after a fine lunch at the Creel Inn washed down with a winter ale, we set out on a walk down to Catterline Cove in a bitter, biting 33f degree driving wind.

The cold wind drove zephyrs across the cove.

Only a handful of fishing boats go out from Catterline Harbour any more . . . mostly to supply the tables of the Creel Inn.

The old Catterline Harbour jetty.

Bitingly cold, and blindingly beautiful.

A rugged North Sea coast spreads north from Catterline.

It was odd lighting: a dark cloud coming from the west, full of snow, darkened the foreground while an early setting winter sun lit tall clouds out across the North Sea.

A fisherman's cottage below the Catterline cliffs.

The old fisherman's cottage had a fine weathered red door.

Fisherman's cottage wall detail.

The old boat winch, lost in the weeds.

We walked back up the hill in the fading winter light.

Steve's old fisherman's cottage, up on the cliffs above the North Sea.