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In July, I visited a few of my favourite corners of Moidart, seeking to capture a single, frozen minute of time in each. By setting the camera to a one-minute long exposure, I could soften the movement of the passing clouds while shafts of light pierced through, providing contrast that lent drama to the black-and-white images I hoped to create.  The first place I visited was Castle Tioram, the weathered ancient seat of Clan Ranald, which is perched on a tidal island in the South Channel of Loch Moidart. I was there on a blustery evening, just before sunset, when the high tide had isolated it from the land. The sinking sun caught the shifting clouds above, breaking through in fleeting bursts that illuminated the fortress and the surrounding water.  A few days later, I made my way over the hills and into Glen Moidart, a secluded Highland glen where visitors are rare and solitude comes easily. The first glimpse arrives as you crest the rise along the rough access track. There, the glen suddenly unfolds before you, hills sweeping wide across the horizon, their slopes catching the shifting light, while a cluster of moss-cloaked, lichen-streaked boulders stands like ancient sentinels at its threshold.  Leaving the glen behind, the road takes you to Glenuig, bringing you to a viewpoint familiar to anyone who has taken the “long way” around to the Peninsula instead of the Corran Ferry. At Rubh a’ Chairn Mhòir, just past the village, the landscape opens suddenly to the sea. The full length of Eigg stretches across the horizon, its dark ridge etched sharply against the sky, while the jagged peaks of the Rùm Cuillin rise in the distance. Below, the ocean feels infinite, the islands suspended between restless waters and the vast, unbroken expanse above.  On the return journey, I stopped at a point on the road where, from afar, the Isle of Eigg reveals its most striking feature: the jagged spike of An Sgurr, the volcanic plug crowning its southern end. It is a striking sight, framed between the hills that flank Loch Moidart’s North Channel, visible from Ardmolich as you gaze up the loch.  Continuing home, I stopped one final time at the corner at the base of Cnoc Breac, just before Mingarry Park. Here, the endless sweep of moss draws the eye outward, stretching across Loch Shiel toward the jagged peaks of Ardgour, some twelve miles away. There, the last light of day brushed their west-facing slopes, setting them aglow against the shadowed foreground. For a brief, perfect moment, the landscape held its quiet magic giving me the perfect image for this fifth and final minute of Moidart frozen time.
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