A photographer’s trip to the rainforest part 2
John MacPherson is one of Scotland’s most respected wildlife and landscape photographers. Last spring, we asked him to take a trip into Scotland’s rainforest and take a series of new pictures to help us talk about these remarkable places. This is the second part of his story, along with more of his brilliant photographs.
Looking for lichens at Glencripesdale
A few days later I was able to get into Glencripesdale nature reserve, accompanied for a few hours by RSPB staff who had kindly offered to act as both guides as well as models. Afterwards they would leave me for a few days on my own to explore the richness and diversity of this little visited side of Loch Sunart.
With the staff’s assistance various sites were identified for me to photograph and species to record. The depth of their local knowledge was remarkable, individuals who’ve seen trees planted that have become a thriving woodland, now rich with other species that have taken the opportunities such endeavours create.
Once the group had departed, I set up my tripod to photograph an impressive recumbent oak that had toppled in some gale or other yet had continued to grow. To provide a sense of its scale I went into the scene and triggered the camera remotely. When I reviewed the image I couldn’t see myself and thought my camera was malfunctioning, so took several more frames and scrutinised them, still puzzled by my absence.
Then the penny dropped as I realised that I couldn’t see myself because in my green jacket and beside this towering organism, I was utterly insignificant and unnoticed!
Spot the photographer!
Finding the remains of Scottish ‘black houses’ in the rainforest
Less than a hundred metres from this magnificent tree lies a small cluster of low walls, remains of black houses, a sign of human habitation dating back several hundred years. But now little sign of human life, a reminder of the transience of our presence but also the tenacity of nature. The ‘wild’ was reclaiming these walls, festooning them with mosses, the roots of oaks and rowans teasing at the ruin’s foundations and dragging the boulders of its walls back to soil.
A one-night camp that turned into an unforgettable wild adventure
As I bounded out of the wood back to my Land Rover to get a fresh camera battery I almost knocked an equally surprised mountain biker off his gear-laden bike, eliciting a brief defensive growl from his collie.
Expecting to meet no-one, the cyclist’s blissful reverie was dramatically cut short as he hauled on his brakes to avoid knocking me over. On holiday from his home in the Lake District, he’d left his van in Strontian and had cycled out for an overnight camp. He was the only person I met for two days and turned out he was an aspirant Search Dog handler and the following week was going for an Assessment.
I know many of the Search & Rescue community so it came as little surprise to discover his Assessor was actually one of my oldest friends, living in Fort William. Small world!
A misty morning in the rainforest
On his cycle back out next morning we met again as I emerged from a verdant track-side gully, now swollen with the persistent overnight rain. He was buzzing. He explained he’d got his tent up ‘dry’, and spent the evening watching the sun sink into the approaching Atlantic weather front, listened to tawny owls hooting all night as the rain started to fall as forecast, big fat drops of water pattering hypnotically on his tent and hissing on the surface of the loch.
Next morning as he packed to leave, an enormous sea eagle swooped down from the hill behind and wheeled around to check him out, the whistle of wind through its primary feathers easily discernible in the still, moist warm air. Then spotting an otter hunting as he cycled along, its sleek fur shining as it knifed through the water.
Loch Sunart’s rainforest clad coast does that, turning a simple overnight camp into a memorable wild adventure. The inspired cyclist departed and I made the most of the quickly clearing rain.
It does rain in the rainforest
A wood glistening with raindrops on a breathless morning
The air was still and as the sun climbed, the thick mist began to glow then dissipate, but its dripping work was done. Raindrops glistened throughout the woods, every surface moist, water droplets heading to the woodland floor and gathering to rush down burns and gullies.
I’d been lucky and my early rise had paid dividends. The loch, a mirror on this breathless morning, revealed every movement, a rising fish here, a distant gull far out, and then along the coast to my right I spotted a merganser pair idling along.
Luckily I was partly concealed by the vegetation and had with me a long lens so could watch them pass by unconcerned by my presence. As they ambled along, I managed to take several frames of their passage, the loch’s surface a beautiful barcode abstract of light and dark water.
Red-breasted mergansers
Meeting community groups in Appin and Ardfern
That afternoon I caught the Corran Ferry and travelled south to Argyll. I was going to spend a few days photographing community groups in Appin and Ardfern who’d engaged Dr Oliver Moore from Plantlife to accompany them into their local rainforest for an educational foray.
Oliver’s task: to explore with them the wonders of the ‘small stuff’ that thrives in their local patches of damp coastal woodland. Their task, to absorb the knowledge Oliver would ‘drip’ over them.
I’ve never seen groups so animated! Oliver’s sense of fun and wonder was infectious. But I was frustrated! Carefully moving around on the periphery of the groups to capture images, avoiding stepping on too many bluebells, checking my exposure settings, was my flash still working, is that face in focus…and so on…the behind-the-scenes of photography, meant I only caught a fraction of Oliver’s generously shared expertise.
But the students were delighted! Over two days I watched an expert in his field do something remarkable with each group, something I’ve seen too few ‘experts’ do this well. Oliver effortlessly wove his knowledge through their day with humour and fun, sharing astonishing facts, outlining fun strategies for communicating with their communities, so as to better inform them and protect their wonderful natural woodland assets.
Reflections on the wildlife, landscapes and people of Scotland’s rainforest
I’d had a glorious week of mixed weather from overcast dry, through overcast wet and finished with melting full sun tropical. I’d visited several old and familiar spots, and many new ones, each supporting thriving woodlands. And crucially, met many enthusiastic people.
At the heart of woodland development are engaged local communities. And these newly created ‘local champions’ will prove invaluable in protecting and sharing the woodland assets they are so fortunate to be custodians of. Which brings me full circle to my previous Lopez quotation.
Our stories of place matter, we need to share them, and the land knows this. So I’ve shared mine. I hope it’s encouraged you to visit our wild temperate rainforest, to let it inform you and enable you to create your own stories.
I’ll listen….and so will many others…
The first part of John’s blog can be found here.
You can see all the photos from his trip on the ASR Flickr page.
Visit John’s website here: https://www.john-macpherson-photography.com
