The Photography of Dr. Jeff Harper

INVERURIE

Another nice sunny winter Saturday in Scotland.  What to do? Let's go for a drive. We had never taken the 16 miles of road from Aberdeen to Inverurie, so today seemed like a good day to do it.  Inverurie is a 15th century market town that really took off when a canal was dug in the River Don from Aberdeen in 1806.  It has become a comuter town for Aberdunians.

Inverurie has a charming triangular central square dominated by this WW I Memorial to the soldiers from the town who died in the wars of 1914-1918  and 1938-1945.  Lest we forget.

We poked around some shops on the square . . . The Dairy was nice, but the cafe had already sold out the days' meal-of-the-day.  Dang.

It is late enough in the winter for gardeners to start to contemplate taking the risk to-plant-or-not-to-plant.

We walked up the main shopping parade in town and found a nice restaurant and had a fine lunch (I had the Balmoral Chicken - roast chicken stuffed with haggis slathered in peppercorn sauce, Prince Charles' favorite!).

After lunch we walked back to the car, but stopped in a sporting goods and a luggage shop first.

Small, frumpy, Inverurie bar.  We didn't go in.

The road leaving town toward Aberdeen.  Small, clean, charming.

They have a gospel church there too.  I love the winter sky in Scotland.

We said good-bye to Inverurie and were glad we visited.  We want to come back and take some time on the River Walk.

MONTROSE (Angusshire)

 Another nice Saturday, another Saturday Drive, a 20 mile drive . . . this time south down the Coastal Route to an adjoining shire and the port town of Montrose, a somewhat down-at-the-heals village set in the most extraordinary geographic setting between the mouths of the North and South Esk rivers, just in front of a wildlife preserve and estuary. Nice church too.

Church doors have a kind of power . . .

Downtown Montrose shopping district.

A very interesting mix of architecture, unlike Aberdeen.  This looks more Dutch than Scottish.  It was a busy shopping day in Montrose.

Local Hero, Joseph Hume.  He "was commissioned as a surgeon to an Army regiment, and was able to take up work as interpreter and commissary-general due to his knowledge of Indian languages."  Cool!  He learned Hindi, just like me! He was also a poet and radical parliamentarian. Nice to see a statue of such an interesting guy in a small town city square.

What?  A Bakery!  Let's have a look.  Some nice local specialities.  We bought an Apple Tart to eat later [far right - it was only ok].

We also bought a loaf of the Oat Bread [top shelf]: it had a crust as hard as concrete and weighed nearly 30 kilos [an exaggeration].  It was, however, extremely delicious.

The TRUE TEST of modern small town economic development is it's capacity to provide a drinkable double latte.  We found this 15th century vaulted cafe off the main square and administered the aforementioned test.  It passed.  A passable latte . . . although a little weak.

The cafe also had the usual display of what could have been 'home made' chutneys, syrups, compotes, jams, and jellys.  We already have these in excess cluttering our refrigerator.  Nothing new here, keep moving.

Yes, Montrose has a Chinese restaurant just like every single town in Scotland!  My wife had just returned from Hong Kong so was not in the mood to complicate her memories of the gastronomy there.

Another commemorative and honorary statue . . . I didn't catch this fellow's name . . . .

Some dilapidation here and there . . . disappointing.  Time to head out of town, find the port, and on to the estuary.

It was a wonderful day with fantastic winter light.

A view back across Montrose Basin to the old town. "At one time Montrose was Scotland's second largest exporter of salmon; and mussel cultivation gave it the largest mussel beds in the country during the 19th and early 20th centuries."  There is a live webcam of Montrose from across the estuary if you want to see what it looks right now.

Low tide on Montrose Basin . . . . a beached boat.

We pulled into the Montrose Basin Wildlife Reserve to ask what to see in the area.  The map provided the answers . . . go to The Bridge of Dun.

The view from the Reserve's Visitor Center Observation Deck was nice . . . and lined with bird-watchers chatting among themselves.  I heard one say, "Isn't that a ring tail twitter finch, just there?"

The Bridge of Dun is a Category A Listed Building . . . without a Wikipedia page!  I did find this, "Three-arch stone bridge, completed 1787 by Alexander Stevens."[citation] The bridge is said to have been the only way to cross the South Esk River, so the Leard built this elaborate toll bridge to enhance his fame.  My battery died within seconds of taking this photo, so other than iPhone shots, I have nothing to post of St Vie village and beach, where we went next.  We had a great day out.

It was a beautiful Sunday a couple of weeks ago . . . and I didn't want to stay inside an iron clothes, so I drove the mile to the Aberdeen Esplanade.  I wasn't the only person with this idea.

I parked at the far northern end and vowed I would walk all the way to the harbour entry . . . two and a half miles away . . . and back.  There was a steady North Sea breeze, a calm sea, and large rolling waves, some quite large. As it was a Sunday, the horizon was full of offshore oil platform tenders, the trucks of the sea.

I enjoyed capturing the waves crashing on the embankments of the Esplanade. . . it was high tide.

I walked slowly along, camera at the ready.

Some of the waves crashed with a loud THUD.

Although it was sunny, the air temperature was only about 3c (39f), and breezy.  People are passionate about their sports and hobbies like this guy and his sea kayak.

This fellow was quite good at it.  His rides were not long, but he caught a lot of waves.  Fun.

2 1/2 miles up the arc of the Aberdeen Esplanade to the tall harbour control tower was my goal . . . I had never walked the full length before.  There were many people out for a stroll: couples, old people, women walking their dogs, and whole families strolling along the North Sea shore.  After I got up to speed, I left the camera in my backpack  . . .

. . . and only stopped once to take this photo of the lighthouses out at Rattray Head.

The southern end of the Esplanade is at the entry to the medieval fishing village of Footdee, known locally as "Fittie".

Footdee sits directly on the sea, protected by a small-ish sea wall.  I wonder what it is like here at high tide (like today) but with a big storm!

Such a pleasant place.  Old stone terrace houses, short doors, benches, and interesting trinkets in all the windows.

The poured glass window testifies to the age of this old door.

I am forever being surprised by Aberdeen: wonderful new places to visit right here in my new home town. Footdee.  The first mention of Fittie was in 1398.  The current village of Fittie "is a particularly interesting example of a planned housing development purpose-built to re-house Aberdeen's local fishing community. Laid out in 1809 by John Smith, then Superintendent Of The Town's Public Works." [citation]

So sweet.  These little places remind me a great deal of old Danish fishing villages . . . although the Danes would have plastered them and painted them with ox blood.

The sharp angle of the winter sun on this rough stone house created an interesting effect.

I walked back by the same house later as the sun was lower in the sky and the light yellowed from time to time.

In and among the more permanent stone structures of Footdee were these fabulously textured fisherman's sheds.

This weathered green shed caught my eye enough to want to do a study of its incredible surfaces . . . .

A late winter's sun's sheen on an old green fisherman's shed.

Yummie textures, light, shadow, detail, and color.

A nautical decorative feature added by who-knows-who, from who-knows-where, affixed who-knows-when.

I made it all the way to the old harbour tower . . . that had an inscription:

The inscription commemorates the 850 years since the founding, in 1136, of Aberdeen's Harbour Board!  That'd be 878 years this year . . . WOW!

At the Aberdeen Harbour I encountered this screaming fellow waving the Jolly Rogers. I kept my distance; I didn't know if he was protesting the oil company docks nearby, or he was a football (soccer) fan, so I walked back through Footdee toward the Esplanade and the 2 1/2 miles back to my car.

They don't make fishermen's sheds like they used to.  Too bad, as this one was beautiful in its own dilapidated and decaying way.

Corrugation!  I've got corrugation!  One of my favorite photographic subjects is corrugation and sundry things attached to it.  This shed was divine, but the window was worth a closer study.

Astonishing beauty.  I love this dilapidation . . . a picture of history itself . . . the work of time and weather upon a manmade object transits to a work of The Elements.

I left Footdee, a real, living, working, fishermen's village, for the crowds of the Esplanade.  I will be back here again . . . maybe to see if it is possible to rent one of those little sheds . . . I imagined a week-end retreat . . .

I joined the late afternoon throng that had come to look at the North Sea, and then quickly walked the 2 1/2 miles back along the Esplanade to my car.  A great day, yes, a great day.

There had been some very cold nights lately and I noticed on the Internet that there had also been some snow up in the hills around Aberdeen.  It was Saturday, so why not drive out and take a look.  I had no particular plan, just my trusty GPS to get me home.

It turned out to be a fabulous day: big, fast clouds racing across the sky . . . bright splashes of sunlight racing across the landscape, and a mix of light to give me a challenge with the big camera.

Patches of blue, patches of white, patches of brown and black.  Brown patches?

Right, the patches of brown were sheep!

Scotland road B9119 winds up through Aberdeenshire toward the highlands and the royal residence of the Queen, Balmoral.  As it climbs, the snow gets deeper, and as the road falls, the snow vanishes.

I made several detours when an interesting sign caught my attention. This road was suppose to lead to a tannery.  It  didn't, but it didn't matter.

The perfect countryside winter scene.  A patch of bright sunlight flashing cross the snow, near and far.

Stark white and stark black contrast . . . so wonderful to look at.

As I drove back out to the B9119, I stopped in the middle of the road in amazement.  Somehow I had not seen this castle on my way up the road the first time!

These are the ruins of Corse Castle (c. 1581).

There are so many castles in Aberdeen and Aberdeenshire that you cannot but help running into one on any country road you might try.

There are over 300 castles in Aberdeen and the surrounding Aberdeenshire! [citation]  Corse Castle sits on a high bank overlooking Corse Burn.

The castle was, and is, owned by the Forbes family, whose son, Patrick, born in this castle, was named Archbishop of Aberdeen in 1618.

The inscription on the door lintel heralds the builder William Forbes ("WF") and the date of the founding of the current castle - 1581 (the previous house was sacked and plundered by robbers!).

Corse Castle must have been a fine castle in its day.  I drove on toward the village of Tarland.

It was a cold (34f or 1c), windy day with ever-changing light and shadow.

The road to Tarland and sky, and snow, and clouds combined in many conspiracies of evocative wonder.

I stood here for a good long while next to a sign pointing toward the 4000 year old Tomnaverie Stone Circle . . . . why I didn't follow That road, I will never know.  It's been there a while, it'll be there next month too.

Queen Victoria used this route to her private summer residence at Balmoral Castle.  This view site was constructed for her as a rest stop.  The sign is new.

On I drove toward Tarland . . . dropping in elevation as I went.

Tarland, Aberdeenshire, Scotland, population 540 (in 2004).

I walked up "Main Street" (actually Melgum Road) in Tarland and saw what one always sees in small towns throughout the UK: a World War I memorial.

The small village of Tarland (and it must have been smaller then) lost 24 young men in The Great War of 1914-1918.

I was hungry, so I went into the Commercial Hotel to see what was on the menu.

Like almost every restaurant in Scotland, the soup-of-the-day was potato-leak . . . my favorite.

When I came out of the Commercial Hotel 30 minutes later, Tarland was lit in a blaze of clear sunlight!  Fantastic.

Double Happiness INDEED!  Every, and I do mean EVERY, Scottish town and village, no matter how small, has a Chinese take-away.  Tarland was no exception.  Having just moved to Scotland from Asia, I find this fascinating.  Who are these people who spent their savings to come to this village in Scotland's back roads?

At the end of the main street were the ruins of an old church and graveyard.

The Francis Donaldson Boig Fountain in Tarland set in 1913.  It must have been a good one, because it still works.

The old Tarland Chapel and 'kirkegaard.'

Among the grave stones was this monument to Peter Milne, a local boy who made a name for himself in playing fiddle in Aberdeen (and beyond!) at the turn of the last century.  Peter Milne is NOT buried in Tarland, his ancestral home, but in Aberdeen.  This is just a monument to his accomplishments, including some much loved folk songs, including John McNeill's Reel (better known as Big John McNeill) and Gillan's Reel (often called Gillian's Reel).  I will see if I can find these songs on-line and pay old Peter Milne some respect these 108 years after his death.

I asked the waitress in the hotel if there was a short-cut to a main road so I could get back to Aberdeen faster.  This was the road she recommended.  Thanks.  It was getting late and, since it was quite cold, I was worried the wet road would freeze soon.

It was a wonderful drive home through the rolling countryside of Aberdeenshire.  As it began to grow dark, a fantastic sunset began to develop, as it often does here.

I pulled over next to a flooded field to enjoy the reflections . . . and just watched . . . .

. . . . and snapped away . . . I was awestruck.

I made it home well after dark . . . with this picture still in my mind.

I attended a UCAS (British university system) conference in Birmingham in mid-February 2014.  All my Scottish and British friends warned me about Birmingham . . . be careful.  The conference, and my hotel were out near the International Airport, so I took a train into the city center.

I enjoy taking trains in Europe, even commuter trains.  It's a great way to travel.  I arrived at the New Street Station and wondered what I would see when I popped above the surface.

What I found was a grey and drizzly day . . . and a very pleasant walking street.

Beyond the clever and tasteful commercial redevelopment, I found public spaces filled with monumental art and sculpture.

Scattered about Victoria Square were many of the giant Sphinx-like creatures in stone.

Lovely metal sculpture . . . disintegrating in the weather . . . my favorite symbol.

Statue of The Explorer, my favorite.

High on the steps of the City Hall.

Victoria Square, Birmingham.

More monumental statuary and the Birmingham Council House on Victoria Square.

A terrible day for photography . . . but very beautiful public spaces and the Birmingham Town Hall (on left).

The Birmingham museum blocks.  I was very impressed with the museums here.

Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery.

There was a fine exhibition of Photorealism on at the Art Museum.

The brand new Birmingham Library.  In the digital age. Good.  The headless man (far right, bottom) was also interesting.

The old lady herself, Queen Victoria.

Alternating sunshine, clouds, drizzle, and rain for both days I spent in the city center.

There is a lot of nice architecture in Birmingham.

There was defiantly a police presence, and CCTV everywhere.

I took a shortcut through a galleria and was greeted with this amazing ceiling.  Thanks.

One end of New Street had old buildings and Victoria Square, the other end had The Bull Ring Mall. The urban planning here was excellent, the mall blended in seamlessly to the town.  They had not put a huge mall in the suburbs to suck the life out of the city center . . . they had integrated the mall into the city.  Outstanding.

I don't know if this is a franchise or not, but I loved the name.

You won't see these in Aberdeen, or in London for that matter, so it was nice to see these old friends.

I went in the Birmingham mall, known as The Bull Ring, and looked up to see a panoramic scene of the whole mall reflected in the ceiling.  Nice detail.

Although not technically a scholarly approach to learning about a city, I often find that a music store can lead me to certain understandings.  The Metal section was by far the largest section in the HMV store.  Stray from the Path indeed!

Panels of chrome cladding on the train station creating these wonderful distorted reflections.

I took many photos of this reflective surface.  This one is amazing.  I love the window in the middle of it all . . . a real window, that is.

Birmingham's Church of St Martin was at the far end of The Bull Ring.

England has had the wettest January since records were kept . . .  as evidenced by this coating of bright green moss on the Church of St Martin.

I love this style.

Facing the cathedral was the Birmingham Selfridges department store.  Also interesting.

Before I went to Birmingham I Googled it to see what there was to do.  When I lived in London in the late 80s my apartment was near a canal (Camdentown), so I took a walk to see if I could find the boat docks for a canal tour.  Along the way I saw several fine theatres and performance halls, here reflected.

I saw this poster on the wall of the concert hall . . . PLEASE, PLEASE let there still be tickets available for the Edinburgh show on May 17th!!! Robert Cray is one of my favorite blues artists.

On my way to the canals I passed this statue.  Early industrialists (including James Watt) looking over some plans or blueprints.  I wondered what they would have thought of the cheap Lowest Bidder Archeceture building that frames their statue.

Birmingham was one of the world's first industrial cities.  The Industrial Revolution began here.  Right here.

Although they did not keep my favored development style, dilapidation and decay, the canal side area was nevertheless tastefully redeveloped.

The dray horse paths have been developed into walks servicing shops and restaurants.

It might be fun to live in one of these canal houseboats.  A bit damp, I would imagine.

Some of the canal boats were very beautiful.

I paid a few pounds and joined six other tourists for a short one-hour tour up a canal.  Fun.

The canal paralleled a train line.  It is a strange feeling going through a tunnel in a boat.

A commuter train.  I waved at the train and ALL the passengers waved back.  A magic moment.

Our canal tour turning around spot was this 'canal boat camp ground' -- people stayed here for a week or two before put-putting up the canal to a new destination.  Hmmmm, this might be a retirement plan . . . .

A favorite photo: a man fishing in a Birmingham canal . . . in a tunnel.

Approaching another tunnel, I quickly snapped this photo.  I did not realize what a good shot I had until I got home and looked at it.  Amazing light reflecting off the canal onto the man's face and ceiling.  Nice.

Some sections of the canal had wild graffiti.

I guess If I grew up in a 6X6 room in one of those flats in the background, I might become a graffiti artist too. 

Fortunately, I was able to indulge my love of unmaintained walls . . . Wall History Portraits I call them. 

I had a pretty good Birmingham burrito in the canal walk area, then walked back downtown where I encountered this busker bank playing red hot raz-a-ma-taz on the street.  They were very charismatic and the crowd loved them.

When I came out of The Bull Ring it was getting dark.

The lights were on the cathedral . . . .

. . . the streets were damp and glowing  . . . .

. . . and everyone was heading home or to the train station, like me.  I enjoyed my couple of days in the Birmingham city center.

New Slains Castle in Aberdeenshire, Scotland is perched on cliffs above the crashing waves of the wild North Sea.

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Just outside of the little Scottish village of Cruden Bay, on a muddy track, sits the amazing New Slains Castle . . . the true home of Dracula.

On a very cold, clear, and windy morning I walked out to a seaside promontory where the [intentional] ruins of Slains Castle was situated.  It was the first sunny day in weeks, so I grabbed my camera for the opportunity for a castle shoot.

New Slains Castle is privately owned and is not developed for visitors.  Heavy rains over the past week made the walking torturous.  In fact, the entry was blocked by a fence, a cliff, and this wooden barricade.  But . . . . .

I found an inviting entry point to the castle property and went in.  I walked along a path that took me by some of what I thought might be out buildings.  I wanted to see the North Sea before I entered the ruins.

As I walked up on the North Sea cliffs, I could see the rough waters.

New Slains Castle sits high on the edge of cliffs that look down on a craggy coast pounded by the wild North Sea winter surf.

The waves were ferocious!  The wind at the edge of the cliffs was powerful: I could barely brace myself enough to take a photo.  What DRAMA!  What inspiration!

I was riveted by the constant pounding of the huge surf on the rocks.

Is there nothing more infatuating than watching big surf crashing on the seaside, with the wind blowing the tops off of the waves?  I do not think so.  I must have taken 100 photos here . . . and thinking each time that I had captured a momentous occasion of extreme importance . . . the Sea and Land in rough embrace.

The castle placement atop cliffs above the wild sea . . . a marvel.

I walked along the windy narrow strip of long grass between the castle on my right, and . . .

. . . the jagged rocks at the base of the cliffs on my left.

Forced to stand so close to the castle, I studied the construction detail.

The weathered plaster-over-stone construction method was coated in sea salt deposits.

I entered the ruins of 'Dracula's Castle.'  I say Dracula's Castle because  . . ." On [Bram] Stoker’s return to Cruden Bay in the summer of 1895, ‘the’ book [Dracula] was written. It is said that when the winds blow into Cruden Bay, the sea is churned into such violence that it fills the onlooker with fear. It was on such a day that Stoker sat near Slains Castle in the wind and rain like some sea bird perched on a rock and slowly, his creation, Count Dracula began to emerge in his mind’s eye... “... I saw the whole man slowly emerge from the window and began to crawl down the castle wall over that dreadful abyss, face down, with his clock spreading around him like great wings...” [ Citation ]

"That Dreadful Abyss" that Bram Stoker saw from the window of New Slains Castle.

Dracula's view!

"In her book The Essential Dracula, Clare Haword-Maden opined the castle of Count Dracula was inspired by Slains Castle, at which Bram Stoker was a guest of the 19th Earl of Erroll. According to Miller, he first visited Cruden Bay in 1893, three years after work on Dracula had begun. Haining and Tremaine maintain that during this visit, Stoker was especially impressed by Slains Castle's interior and the surrounding landscape." (Citation)

"In 1925 the roof was removed to avoid taxes,   and the building has deteriorated since. It is now a roofless shell, with most of the outer and inner walls standing to full height. In 2004 it was reported that the Slains Partnership was preparing plans for restoration of the building and conversion into 35 holiday apartments.   In August 2007 the scheme was granted outline planning permission by Aberdeenshire Council, but the plans were put on hold in 2009 due to the economic downturn." ^[Citation]

The tower of New Slains Castle was begun in 1597, and was built, remodeled, and rebuilt for many centuries afterward.  It was occupied up until 1906.

The castle has a very complex floor plan.

Wherever I went in the castle, I invariably came back around to a window opening that looked out onto the wild North Sea.

With the windows, doors, and interior wall panelling taken away, the spaces left were . . . quite spooky.

Long halls went off in all directions.

Halls everywhere.  You can see the joist supports coming out of the wall at right, indicating where the second floor would have been.

It was very interesting walking down these halls.  Openings would appear and new views would present themselves.  With the wind whistling through these passages, it was a very exciting experience.

One of the best things about the day was studying castle construction methods.

This must have been a Great Hall or Dining Room.

I had fun trying to figure out the intended use of each room.

Construction materials and methods varied throughout the castle.  I couldn't tell the difference between the 16th, 17th, or 18th century renovations and remodeling.

Previous doors and passages are bricked up here and there throughout.

I wondered if some walls were broken in order to get large fixtures out of the building, like fireplaces.

A rare historical photo of the interior of New Slains Castle while occupied (circa 1900).

This photo illustrates how wood panelling was attached to the stone and brick walls: wooden dowels were inserted in the stonework as it was being mortared so that panels could be affixed later.  They are still there, so presumably, they could be re-used.

It was such a beautiful day.

At this time of year, February, in the Northeast of Scotland the sun is always at a perfect angle for photography.

Of course, all of my wanderings were leading me to the feature that defines a castle, the tower.

The five-story tower in all its glory!

The tower spiral stairs.

The colors, textures, shapes, surfaces, and shadows in this scene create a complex and magnificent portrait.  The doorway to the castle tower steps.

The 'wall history' underneath the castle tower stairs.  At some point a plaster grout was trowelled in and something, perhaps tiles, were laid in, and since vanished.  Seeing the medieval craftsmen's scratches and marks humanizes these spaces.

The tower interior view from a different corner.

As it was getting late, and the sun was falling fast, I left the tower to go outside . . . .

I left New Slains Castle through this door.

I stepped out into the gale force winds to see the tall grass, laid over, where it met the weathered stone of the castle . . . too beautiful.  A still life portrait to remember.

A turreted element of the castle architecture.

The south exposure of New Slains Castle in all its glory.  The 14th century tower at right.

A similar view of New Slains Castle when it was still a living residence (circa 1900).

As I walked around the exterior of the castle, I realized these weren't the ruins of out buildings, but the exterior wall of yet another expansive renovation in the past.

I wanted to walk a way up the coast to get a long shot of the castle and it's precarious position on the cliffs . . . . when I turned around I saw this view . . .  WOW!  The tall grasses laid over in the ferocious wind.

It was a struggle walking in this slippery, grabby grass in such a strong wind.

I took my last photo of the rugged Scottish coast before walking back to the car and heading home.  It had been a magical day in a magical, if somewhat creepy, place.

As I drove back through the village of Cruden Bay I realized I hadn't eaten all day, so I stopped in at a small hotel and had a traditional Angus steak pie and tatties.  It was, of course, delicious.

I set the GPS to take me home . . . but I began to defy its instructions, making it compute an alternative route  in the hope that I might find something interesting on a new road.  I did.

The Belhelvie North Parish Church (circa 1870).  I was happy, the sky was beautiful, and I had spent the day outside on a wonderful winter day.