Call of the wild part 1 - Ockle, Ardnamurchan

One of my favourite books of recent years is Christopher Somerville's “Best Wild Places”. In it he explores 500 of his favourite wild places in the British Isles from the hill tops of Scotland to the flat fenlands of East Anglia. Throughout his journey he discovers the wild in the most unusual places and poses the question what constitutes a “wild place”?

Most of us think of the mountains and moorlands as the ultimate wild places; sections of the landscape that remain untainted by human influence. But I am not sure these places exist any more. Almost every part of the British landscape, wild or not, is influenced in some way or another by human activity; whether that be through managed wildlife reserves, farming, or tourist activity. Yet despite this the wild still exists and nature abounds.

Over the last couple of years I have used Christopher Somerville's book as a guide whenever I have wanted to find somewhere new to visit for my photography. This year I though I would share my experiences, images and personal take on the places that make up “Somerville's best wild places".

I will begin with one of my favourites and a place that I have come to associate with my first ever golden eagle sighting.

Ockle (No. 390 in Somerville's book) lies on the northern shore of Ardnamurchan; the most westerly tip of land on mainland Britain and a remote and beautifully wild part of the country. Travelling across the peninsular from Kilchoan the road forks just before Fascaldale and crosses the Achateny Water. It is here that I caught my first sighting of a golden eagle flying majestically over the trees on the edge of sloping ground. I had been coming to Scotland for years hoping to see an eagle; spent countless hours staring at buzzards wondering if they could possibly be something more interesting. Having finally had a positive sighting I felt stupid to have ever wondered if a buzzard was an eagle – the difference between the two is amazing.

From Achateny water the road twists and turns following the coast. Very soon we pass a charming circular graveyard bounded by a stone wall; the only access a path across a boggy hollow. Foxgloves grow wild by the side of the road and beyond the ground slopes dramatically falling away to the sea. Arriving at a row of cottages overlooking a small stream we parked the car and continue on foot along a stony path between grassy swathes dotted with cotton grass and orchids. The path leads to a sheltered bay edged with a stony beach at the back of which stands a ruined crofters cottage. In front the islands of Eigg, Muck and Rum complete a view to keep me engaged for hours.

Sitting on a lichen strewn boulder by the waters edge I contemplate the tranquilly of this place, wondering what life must have been like for the occupants of the now abandoned croft and marveling at how nature has begun to reclaim the last vestiges of human habitation. Bracken brushes at the crumbling stones and foxgloves point their fingers to the sky from within the roofless walls. Dragonflies dart among the foliage and butterflies quietly sun themselves on the rocks. The wild is everywhere and it is amazingly cathartic.

Although I took plenty of images at Ockle it seemed much more important to just soak up the essence of the place, breathe it in and connect.

Ockle can be found on OS Explorer 390 at grid ref:556704