On Skye the storm moved the vehicle through the night. In daylight I drove counter-clockwise, considered Fairy Pools, avoided the crowd, turned back when light improved, and found exactly what road days often bring: unpredictability.
On the walk I was asked to take a portrait of two red-haired women. A quick exchange, one frame, and they were gone. It felt like a scene from a film I had watched in the harbor the night before.
The pools themselves were less striking than expected. The side road waterfalls were better for my eye and for ICM: fewer people, clearer movement lines, and stronger contrast between rock tone and water color.
That night I parked alone, cooked sweet potato with black pudding and pear, and worked under a clear sky.
Travel diaries are sometimes built from small coincidences. Photography is often the same: one moment appears, you respond, and it becomes part of the visual memory of a place.
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