Perimeter

Ancient meets modern in Scotland

The Dornoch Firth Bridge takes me from Sutherland to Ross and Cromarty. I need to push against the wind to cross it. I’m soon following a long stretch of beach, but the tranquillity of the scene is accompanied by a pair of Eurofighters circling overhead and strafing the bombing range at Tain.

Uniquely, the Picts are much in evidence here: for a few days, I become mildly obsessed with seeing as many of their traces as possible. Full of mysterious swirling symbolism, the Nigg Stone is one of the last records of the Picts in Easter Ross: their distinct culture was lost in the 9th century, when they amalgamated with the Scots in response to Viking raids.

I’m brought abruptly into the 21st century as the oil platforms moored in the Cromarty Firth come into view. The platforms are a fascinating photographic subject, as they look so incongruous near to land. Some say they’re waiting to be scrapped, others that they’re in for repairs.

As I follow the shore through the Dalmore distillery, I manage to get stuck on the inside of the security fence without meaning to. After extracting myself, I’m then blocked by a fenced pipeline manufacturing facility that’s not marked on the map. The building is kilometres long, and it’s getting dark. I decide to camp here and think of a way around it tomorrow.

I’ve just walked across Cromarty Bridge to the Black Isle for the third time. The first crossing was aged 10, walking from John O’ Groats to Glasgow with my mum; the next was aged 21, walking from Land’s End to John O’ Groats solo. It feels like a happy place, just as I remember it, accentuated by blue skies and the myriad of combine harvesters out in the fields.

Camping for the night at South Sutor, I’m woken by heavy breathing outside the tent. I point the torch and see a herd of cows pushing against the fence a few feet from me. They are still there in the morning, and

I eat my porridge to the sound of a splattering cowpat orchestra – a true test of mind over matter.

It’s raining in Findhorn, and my eye is drawn to the only colour around: a TV screen in a living room, showing a sponge cake being assembled. Must be The Great British Bake Off. With my mind full of Pictish spirals and towering oil rigs, I head due east along the Moray coast towards Aberdeen.

I used a telephoto lens to compress the perspective and emphasise the difference in scale between the town of Cromarty and the jack-up oil rigs looming overhead. I did a lot of moving around to try the most effective position for the shot, then waited for the clouds to balance the image. The scene could be from science fiction, yet it shows the priorities of the present moment, when we are reliant on fossil fuel.