The perils of a perfect picture
From slimy eels to things that go bump in the night, Stuart McIntyre braves it all to get his shot
Astrophotography can be a bit of an odd hobby. For instance, it was 3.30am when a confused looking policeman joined me on the abandoned pier at Loch Fyne. He asked what I was doing and his puzzled expression didn’t disappear when I told him that I was taking photographs (shouldn’t the camera have made that obvious?). Since then I have met him a few times, interestingly always the same policeman who seems to be looking for a suspicious person wandering around the west of Scotland at night.
On that night I was heading to Polphail, a village EXLOW WWHG DQG IXUQLVKHG GXULQJ WKH RLO UXVK RI WKH 1970s, but never inhabited. Normally at night you can hear the sounds of birds, deer and sheep, but in this derelict village I could hear only silence – except for every couple of seconds a loud metal door slamming. It was a creepy place. I collected my senses and thought to myself that it must be the wind; there’d be nobody who’d make a three-hour journey out here to sit and slam a door all night!
I went on and started to take photographs. That night had the most clear and vibrant Milky Way I have ever seen: it was back in 2014 and I’ve been very keen to see it that clearly ever since. I was in amongst the buildings and had my camera pointing straight up at the sky overhead; I turned off my head torch and pressed the shutter. While I was enjoying the silence, I had a growing feeling of panic – the door had stopped slamming! It is the only time that I’ve been completely spooked: after that photograph I left quickly.
I always wanted to revisit Polphail and do it justice. Sadly, when I returned in January 2018, all I found ZDV UXEEOH DV LW KDG QDOO\ EHHQ GHPROLVKHG , KDYH regrets of not staying longer to photograph this amazing place.
On another night I wanted to get a photograph of Kilchrun Castle framed under the Milky Way. There was only one small problem: I had to stand in the middle of Loch Awe to get the particular perspective. However, in an odd way it turned out to be one of the most interesting nights of my photography experience.
Frogs were making lots of noise as they were in mating season, which in turn had encouraged eels to come to the shallow water to look for prey. The eels were attracted to my headtorch as I waded out, but then I had to turn out the light and stand in the water in complete darkness to get my exposure. During this time, I felt eels brushing up against the outside of my waders, which, I can tell you, is a very alarming feeling.
I wished I could hear the familiar ‘click’ of my shutter closing so I could get out of the water, but instead I heard a ‘bing’ as my phone received an email. Interested to know who could be emailing me at 2am on a Tuesday morning, I performed the strange dance that is required when you are attempting to retrieve your phone from inside a set of waders.
It was an email from Nikon which read: “Get the most out of your camera”. It left me standing there wondering, “What else do I need to do?!”