When the haar rolled in

A chum and I drove down the coast to North Berwick over the weekend. It was glorious, autumn weather – the sun is much lower in the sky, creating a warm, golden light and long shadows, and the light quality was making the colours on the trees incredibly vivid.

Haar At North Berwick 01

Haar At North Berwick 02

As we approached North Berwick, though, we could see some haar (a Scots term for sea mist), drifting over the islands in the Firth of Forth, just offshore from the town. A few wisps of mist were wrapped around this island, while much of it still caught the autumn sunlight, creating a lovely effect, so I hurriedly got the camera out to use the big zoom for a shot, knowing the conditions would likely change very quickly.

And yes, it did indeed change rapidly. By the time we had a leisurely stroll along the beach, then up a small hillside path to follow the coastal route, we realised we could no longer see that island, or the nearby (and much larger) Bass Rock. In fact, by now the mist was heading inshore, and the craggy rock of land that sticks out between the two main beaches, where the Scottish Seabird Centre and the harbour are located, was slowly vanishing under this soft, grey, wool blanket too.

Haar At North Berwick 03

By the time we had walked back to that spot to look down past the lifeboat slipway to the crescent-shaped beach and houses overlooking it, the mist had rolled in over the beach and into the town. With the low sun trying to shine through from behind, it created an eerie and unusual light quality, and turned the whole world into soft-focus.

Haar At North Berwick 04

Vid - Haar At North Berwick

The tide was just starting to turn – I was a little worried since such misty conditions often lead to ghost pirate attacks, but with the tide out, we were relatively safe, I judged – but now it was starting to come in, and fill the small harbour. Some sailors were readying their yachts, although beyond the harbour mouth was only a glowing white fog, drifting across the water.

Harbour Scenes 01

Harbour Scenes 04

The golf course runs right along by the beach, and as we walked back, the haar blanketed this too, leaving golfers wondering where the 18th hole actually was, but it did make for an interesting photo for my wandering lens!

Where Is The 18th Hole 01

Where Is The 18th Hole 02

A misty day on the hills

clouds and hills 01

clouds and hills 02

Out with dad a few days ago, overcast and grey, not ideal for taking photographs, but on the other hand this winter’s day saw the clouds come down low to curl around the the summit and the upper slopes of the Campsie Hills like a soft, silk scarf. And then a little later I saw this beautifully carved old Celtic Cross in the kirkyard of the old (sadly fire-damaged) kirk at Lennoxtown, and taking the right angle the cloud-shrouded hills in the background, and I couldn’t resist taking another photo…

Cross, clouds, hills

Winter sun and rising mists…

Dad and I were out and about last weekend, glorious golden winter sunlight, sun low, low, low in the skies now (sunset is now well before 4pm as we move into winter, and the longest night/shortest day is still weeks away). From the top of the Tak Me Doon Road between the Carron Valley and Kilsyth we got these views looking down, the last of the sunlight warming high ground on one side, the other in shadows because of the low sun, the temperature differential creating beautiful, soft, ephemeral mists, but not actually at ground level, hovering a bit higher up, like a blanket of light mist draped over the valley below:

winter sunlight in mist 02

I couldn’t resist this – seen in the last half hour or so of the short daylight, this bare, winter tree silhouetted against the mist, which was turning this beautiful warm copper colour as the sun rapidly declined in the east:

winter sunlight in mist 03

winter sunlight in mist 04

A little earlier we had been round the back of the Campsie Hills and past the Carron Valley reservoir – again the mist rising in the gap between weak winter sunlight on one side and shadows on the other, and again hovering not at ground (or in this case water) level but several feet above it. Utterly gorgeous to take in; while I’m glad some photos came out I’ve got to say they don’t really do justice to how it looked to the naked eye. To say nothing of the feel of it – peaceful, very, very quiet, hardly any other cars passing on the rural road, no town noises, no wind that day, only the sound from some waterfowl, the amber winter sunlight, the long, long shadows and that soft silence, the world screened out by the hills around us:

Carron Reservoir, winter day 05

Carron Reservoir, winter day 04

Carron Reservoir, winter day 01

And one last one, from earlier in the afternoon, from the top of the Crow Road on the Campsie Hills, looking west down into the valley below – all this just a short car ride from the busiest city in Scotland…

winter sunlight in mist 05