Scotland Dissertation Trip (behind it all)

As my friend Sarah and I were struggling to focus on our dissertation work, we decided it'd be great to escape into the middle of nowhere.  There are no distractions up here except my camera and the great outdoors, which we use as an excuse for a break in the middle of the day.  I feel if I ever have to do another large scale project such as this dissertation I will have to escape again, but for a longer period of time.  I've never been so productive in my life.

Anyway below are a few photos from a dissertation break to Nairn, just south of Inverness.

My beach, My Place (part 2)

I think I’ve just stumbled upon a place I visited as a child. The memory is so vivid. My uncle sits on the very rock from which I write. The island out in the firth, the seaweed caked rocks that jut out at weird angles, like broken teeth. I remember playing down on the sand, digging for cockles, thinking, naively that my mum and aunty might eat them. The birdsong still clear as my memory and the houses behind stuck into the cliffs with ancient ewe trees at the head of them. This place is called Rockcliffe. I’m reminiscing on how I spent that October half term, full of flu like symptoms, but nonetheless still eager to be outside in the fresh air all day. I think my need for escapism was picked up as a child, you might call it a bad habit. Maybe if I hadn’t experienced this, the adventures, the outdoors, learning about nature I wouldn’t be so down right sad every time I spend more than a couple of weeks cooped up inside, using my laptop for entertainment, to check when I’ll be able to go outside again. The thought of living a sheltered and indoor, office type of life haunts me. I’m glad I can appreciate something that’s outside and natural. I’m glad that when I’m here everything bad about human life can almost be forgotten. The artificial lifestyle forgotten with the finding of a comfortable rock to sit on. Its delight.



I see some children and their fathers walking out on the sand. As I did with my mum and brother. These adults are doing a great thing. Even if their children don’t learn to appreciate this, at least they’re giving them a chance.

The water’s changed to golden now. Molten gold. It reminds me of chocolate wrapped in golden foil. The sun is about to set. I need to move, quick, get a better view out to sea. Still the flow moves steadily on by. It’s doing a good job at cleansing my soul. My hair flicks and wisps harmoniously with the sea breeze. Washing negativity out into the Irish sea.



I hear my voice, I’ve muttered something under my breath and it slightly startles me. I hadn’t spoken all day. I think its odd how in one day you almost forget to speak. Would you forget if you left it long enough? Would then thought and emotion begin to disappear too? Would places like this lose significance because you were happy? To forget all that lies outside the here and now is a scary yet blissful thought. Would I grow tired of this place? Probably not.

As the sun slowly begins to set in this golden hour, I don’t want to go home. I want to wrap myself up in a protective bubble and watch all night. Be woken up to the same sounds I’m hearing now. Squeaks, twitters, howls, squeals. The birds here are amazing. There must be at least 200 or more bathing, hunting, gathering tasty morsels on the incoming tide. The sun is presenting the true reds and oranges of the rock and the acid green of the lichen. It picks up every spectrum of brown on the deciduous trees on the hillside. House windows glinting at me, almost like little cheerful winks. My favourite sound of all begins to grace my ears. The water has arrived at the bottom of the pile of rocks I’m resting on. The waves. Lapping up onto the seaweed, a movement so relaxing it could send me to sleep. There’s no formality to this symphony, it’s every man for himself yet it puts to shame every single song I know. It’s a score that could never be interpreted.




The sun begins to disappear and a few shady characters begin to emerge, sunken, slitty eyes, dry hands, stubble. It’s time I moved on, I’m no longer comfortable, fear and apprehension begin to take over. My footsteps become quicker for fear of someone following me along the mid lit coastal path. I hear people up in front, chatting jovially. These people are more friendly. A smile and a polite hello. I think we all get so wrapped up in our day to day busy lives we forget that maybe that smile would brighten someone’s day, make them smile in return. It certainly seems this politeness has stuck with the older generations, the younger one’s being selfish, not considering the others around them. On my return from my rock pile throne, I must’ve passed and exchanged greetings with at least 3 different parties. One that particularly stuck in my mind were 3 neighbours discussing a break in. What first occurs in my mind is “Oh my goodness, here?!?!” I have to quickly greet them, console my shock, as each of them smile and nod with a “hello”. I respond, “Hi”. The old lady’s glasses reflect the now orange sun and the low light of the evening deepens her crevice like wrinkles. The other woman wears a pink fleece hat, a look of concern written right across her face. Her straw like hair sticking out at odd angles. The man, obviously her partner, wore a green mac and had a front tooth missing, he was slightly rotund and wore the same expression of concern as his wife. To them I’m just a nobody. It’s a pleasant thought. I never have to see them again and the opinion if they were to see me, would be positive because I took the time to smile.

My day ends, the sun turning the sky dark, rose pink with the last of it kicking up off the back of the hills, a lining. Darkness is about to take hold, although, I’m certain that it would be just as good as the daylight. I need to get back. But why did I even think that? No one is at home to worry where I am. I have signal so if they did need to call they could. I wanted to stay. But it would be irresponsible to do so. No one knew where I was or what I was doing. I had no shelter, my car would’ve made do but sleeping would’ve been uncomfortable. I wanted to justify staying but I just couldn’t. Back to Penrith. Back to the dirty town.

My beach, my place (part 1)

It’s a resort, yet it’s deserted, the winter months meaning that people are staying away. All that remain are the locals and the golfers, taking advantage of this sunny day in November. The first sunny day, for what seems an age. There’s a silence that’s intimidating, I expected there to be more noise, more commotion. More people. But, it’s calm here, the odd character wondering on the rocks. I have no effect on them. The wind doesn’t howl, nor is the rain pattering on my coat. The firth is flat, like the light. Undisturbed. Bird song fills in. They rise and fall in the calm thermals, diving at one another, protecting their territory or young. A gull slows and lands awkwardly. It’s spotted something it likes the look of.



Cirrus clouds high in the sky dictate that it’s cold today whilst across the Solway Cumulonimbus form over the fells of Cumbria, restless. It’s probably snowing. The light is of a weird quality today, it’s hazy, cushioning the emotions running through my mind. Making them a lot more logical, than had it been bright and stark. Dark rocks are silhouetted against the bright estuary backdrop, whilst run off from the dunes behind form mini rivers with banks which will soon be destroyed by the rising tide. Then the cycle will start all over again. It’s refreshing.



This is the first time I’ve experienced proper sunlight in a month, Although it’s only about 2 degrees Celsius, I’m basking in it’s warmth, feeling the weight slowly evaporate away. I’m happy, the drive was worth it, here, I haven’t much a care for anything or anyone. It’s just me and nature in this space for now. No one could change that. No one knows me here. It’s almost as if I don’t exist. You can see the curvature of the earth. I haven’t seen such a non interrupted piece of landscape for a long time. There’s something about it which just allows for a clearer view point on life. It’s simple and doesn’t distract you. All that moves is the tide, slowly rippling away. I’m drifting away with it. The sun highlights and twinkles off my eye lashes, my hair feels warm to the touch. If only I could sit here for longer. My return looms closer. It’s almost as if the landscape is changing with my thought. Growing dark, damp. I want to hold this image in my head for longer. Smell the air and taste the salt on my lips.



I decide to head back, I know there must be better places. I notice things here which just aren’t right, despite the immediate landscape being absolutely stunning. I notice the amount of waste, scattered amongst the rock pools, traffic cones, oil drums, gloves, tubs, plastic bottles, fence poles. It’s amazing and sickening at what the human race can cause by one careless thought or placement. Tree branches bleached by the salt mark the high tide point. A seemingly beautiful and natural place transformed to a dirty, impure site of destruction. Made by us. These rocks were here first, it’s unfair that now human products mingle with it, disrupting the natural balance.

I’m almost back to my car, back to the resort. The path is almost as bad as the beach. Cans, packets, glass bottles exposed by the dying bushes. I don’t understand how people can come here, leave their trash scattered everywhere then just leave. They come here for the beauty, to relax. So why can’t they keep it that way? It’s un-comprehendible.

I miss him still