Dead Centre of Dail Mor – Post #13

The Journey to Dail Mor

As I travelled southward along the main A858 from Barvas, tracing the western edge of Lewis, the morning greeted me with brilliant sunshine and scattered, fluffy clouds which offered reasonable conditions for some Hebridean beach photography. The wind, though still blowing from the west, had considerably mellowed since earlier in the week. I had just left behind the small beach at Dailbeag with its interesting gallery and was rapidly approaching the right-hand junction marked by the small signpost for Dail Mor. I followed the winding road, its surface rising and falling gently, leading, as I assumed, toward the beach and some more Hebridean beach photography. This stretch of road was narrow, with just enough room for one vehicle at a time, punctuated by occasional passing spots strategically placed along its length. Fortunately, I encountered no other traffic, allowing me to maintain a steady pace. These were not roads conducive to speeding; rather, one had to be vigilant, ready to yield to oncoming vehicles by quickly manoeuvring into one of the designated pull-ins. Unsure of the local etiquette, I erred on the side of caution, always yielding to the locals who zipped past me with apparent urgency, likely bound by appointments or work commitments, while I, a mere visitor, had the luxury of leisurely holiday time at my disposal.

Along the road, there were scattered houses, but it lacked the cohesive presence of a village. My surprise peaked as I reached the road’s end and found myself in a spacious car park equipped with toilet facilities. It dawned on me that there were two cemeteries nearby, likely accounting for the ample parking space. It seemed burying the deceased near the beach was a common practice in this area, evident by the numerous cemeteries lining the coastline, not that the occupants got to enjoy the view, or the sea air. Exiting the car, I retrieved my camera bag and tripod from the boot and made my way down the asphalt path toward a sturdy farm-style galvanised steel 5 bar gate, leading to a sandy trail that meandered toward the beach. The rhythmic crashing of waves confirmed my navigation. Passing through a brief stretch of dunes flanked by the two graveyards, I noticed the one to my left was considerably smaller than its counterpart to the right. As the shoreline unfolded before me, as I descended the path an underground stream surfaced, carving a route through the pristine sands, adorned with weathered, textured boulders shaped by the relentless force of waves and water. The intriguing erosion patterns on these boulders captured my attention, serving as a promising subject for future photography endeavours, particularly as my initial focus shifted toward capturing the dynamic motion of the waves along the shoreline for this little adventure into Hebridean beach photography.

Photography on the Pristine Shore

To progress further along the beach, I found myself crossing a terrain strewn with boulders, their rounded surfaces posing a risk of twisting an ankle. Determined to preserve the untouched beauty of the sand nearer the water’s edge, I opted to carefully navigate these obstacles well away from the waters edge, mindful of leaving behind any footprints as the beach was completely deserted. Negotiating the uneven surface proved to be quite a challenge, requiring deliberate and cautious steps and using the tripod as an impromptu walking pole. Amidst this rocky path, I couldn’t help but notice how the stream flowing out towards the west across the beach provided a natural leading line to the foreshore. I made a mental note to revisit the spot later, intrigued by the potential of incorporating it into a composition.

I descended to the shoreline, and paused, standing amidst the tranquillity of the deserted beach, I observed the waves crashing against the shore, I gently placed my camera bag on the sandy ground to get some photographs into the camera and begin this session of Hebridean beach photography. Assembling my tripod, I retrieved my camera from the bag, along with the pouch containing my Neutral Density filters necessary for capturing longer exposures under the bright daytime sunlight. Solitude enveloped me, accompanied solely by the rhythmic symphony of the breaking waves and the occasional cry of a seagull. Embracing the moment, I allowed myself to unwind, inhaling deeply the crisp sea air, filling my lungs with its purity. With each slow breath, I sank deeper into relaxation, my gaze lost in the vast watery expanse before me. It was a near-meditative state, a harmonious fusion with my surroundings. After a few moments of blissful immersion, my focus gradually returned, ready to tackle the task at hand.

I attached the ND8 filter to the front of my 16-35mm wide-angle lens, my preferred choice for capturing landscape and seascape scenes. I prefer simplicity when it comes to my gear, typically carrying only two lenses in my bag: the 16-35mm and a 28-300mm for general photography. This combination covers most scenarios I encounter while also keeping the weight manageable. Despite the trend toward mirrorless cameras for weight reduction, I have stuck with my faithful D850, considering it part of my fitness regimen, sparing me the need for a gym membership.

With the settings dialled in, I snapped a few test shots to ensure I captured the desired motion of the waves. After some minor adjustments to the settings and more shots ensued, I continued walking further along the beach, exploring different vantage points. As I wandered, I lost track of time, immersed in the solitude of my surroundings, my footsteps weaving aimlessly through the sand.

A Peaceful Interlude and Departure

After thoroughly exploring the beach, I retraced my steps to the boulder-strewn stream that ran parallel to the path leading back to the car park. Recalling the potential for a compelling leading line shot, I set up my camera and tripod on the boulders in the middle of the stream. Experimenting with various compositions, I alternated between emphasizing the foreground and zooming in on the sea, envisioning the editing possibilities awaiting me once I returned home from my holiday. After exhausting the potential compositions I’d noted in this area, my attention was drawn to a wooden bench positioned high above the beach, near the boundary fence of the larger of the two cemeteries. Rather than immediately heading back to the car, I seized the opportunity to bask in the sunshine for a half-hour, perched on the bench overlooking the beach and the surrounding bay at Dail Mor. I climbed the steep sandy slope heading upwards towards the cemetery fence and with a sigh of relief, I removed my camera bag and settled onto the wooden slats, facing westward towards the beach below me.

My timing proved fortuitous, as no sooner had I seated myself than a family appeared, accompanied by two energetic dogs bounding along the shoreline and frolicking in the foamy surf. The children, though less physically active, made up for it with their exuberant voices echoing across the beach, their playful shrieks filling the air.

Inspired by the lively scene below, I decided to take advantage of the opportunity to capture aerial shots of the location using my drone, as well as getting some video footage for sharing on social media platforms at a later date. After depleting the first battery of my drone, I made the decision to return to the car and brining to an end this session of Hebridean beach photography. Spotting an opening in the boundary fence of the cemetery, I leisurely strolled back over the soft grass, gradually ascending through the maze of headstones that dotted the landscape here. It seemed that MacLeod and MacDonald were the prevalent families in this area, judging by the abundance of markers bearing those surnames.

Navigating through the kissing gate marking the pedestrian entrance to the cemetery, I noticed two more cars pulling up, their occupants and canine companions spilling out onto the grounds. Relieved to depart from the now bustling activity at the Dead Centre of Dail Mor, I looked forward to exploring quieter surroundings, preferably with fewer individuals present—living ones, that is!