A Summer Return to Beinn a’ Mhuinidh
Many of my inspirations come from winter and the seasons that shoulder those low-light months. I’m naturally drawn to mists, patches of snow and the russets and golds of fading vegetation.
So where am I going with this? It’s June.
I’ve become conscious that my portfolio lacks seasonal balance. Summer has often been overlooked, not because I dislike it, but because I rarely feel the same urge to paint it. With that in mind, I asked myself where I’d most like to spend a fine June day. I chose one of my favourite haunts, although this would be a completely different experience. I’d only ever visited it on frozen ground.
The drive west began well, with an osprey family on the nest and a well-grown brood of black-throated divers.
My route climbed into the lochan-pocked interior of Beinn a’ Mhuinidh, neighbour to the mighty Slioch. As I gained height, the fresh vegetation was sprinkled with beautiful, though mostly tiny, flowers. They reward close inspection: heath spotted orchids, butterwort, lousewort and mountain everlasting, each remarkably intricate despite their size.
The plateau is scattered with countless lochans which, beneath a bright blue sky and a fresh breeze, sparkled in the glaring summer light.
My real discovery, though, was just how important this landscape is for breeding birds. The “yik-yak yik yak” calls of snipe punctuated the route across the moor, while greenshank and golden plover protested noisily at my presence. The highlight came with sightings of two separate red-throated divers.
After exploring the maze of lochans and rocky outcrops, I made my way towards the north-west corner. Here the ground rises above a rocky buttress before suddenly falling away. A few more steps and the whole expanse of Loch Maree is revealed in one breath-taking panorama.
The view is extraordinary. Opposite lies the Caledonian pine forest of the Beinn Eighe National Nature Reserve, backed by the gleaming screes and rugged summits of Torridon. Way below the river spreads into a braided delta before entering the loch, while beyond it the chain of wooded islands stretches into the distance.
Searching for landscape compositions takes me to some remarkable places. I often prefer wandering away from the more familiar paths and the line of walkers heading for the obvious summits. Those quieter places are where I find my greatest inspiration.
People sometimes ask where my paintings begin. The answer is simply time spent outdoors. Light is endlessly changing. A scene that appears magical one moment can lose its impact within seconds as cloud, sunlight and shadow drift across the landscape. I carry a camera to capture those fleeting moments, later selecting some of the strongest references from an ever-growing archive to support new compositions.
