This morning at Loch Rannoch, the temperature dropped below -7°C, cold enough to sting your face and numb your toes despite the layers.
The birch trees framed the scene, their spindly, leafless branches etched black against the pale glow of the horizon. Frost coated the bracken, crunching underfoot with every step. Schiehallion’s unmistakable peak rose in the distance, its slopes already touched with the faintest peach blush of the new dawn.
The breeze toyed with the mist, shifting it in soft, curling waves across the surface. The water caught the colours of the sky, cool blues giving way to warm faint peachy tones as the sun stretched up and over the hills.
Sunrise in the Highlands isn’t hurried. The light builds slowly, layering itself over the landscape, touching each ridge and glen with care. Schiehallion watched it all, unchanging and constant, as it has for millennia.
Photography in conditions like this takes effort to be in pursuit of your subject. The cold numbs your fingers, breeze chills your face and you have to work with the light as it changes, minute by minute. But the reward isn’t just the photograph, it’s the experience of being here. You notice details you might otherwise miss: the way the frost clings to the tree bark and the bracken, and the ever-shifting dance of the mist on the water and the hillside.
This morning wasn’t dramatic or showy but the loch, the breeze, the rising sun, all came together in a way to remind me to be fully present. It was unplanned but welcomed outdoor morning meditation.
Linda Mellor 💚 Age, Wisdom & Wellness
Guiding women to connect with nature and themselves.
