Extending from Moray’s western border near Nairn, along the Moray Firth and all the way around the right-angled wedge of Aberdeenshire, the North East coast of Scotland covers over 200 miles of coastline. Read on for my top five beaches along this stretch, from west to east, where you can spend the day foraging for shells, watching wildlife or just soaking it all in.
FINDHORN
Findhorn has a beach of two halves. Surf down a steep shingle bank onto an expanse of fine sand, revealed at low tide. The bay here is known for its seals – depending on the tide they might be hauled out on the beach (if so then keep your distance) or bobbing in the shallows.
Covesea
At the foot of Covesea Lighthouse is another sandy beach, running to nearby Lossiemouth. As the tide recedes on quiet winter days, you might see sanderlings feeding here. They move in sudden bursts like a breeze has swept them up.
Sunnyside
A lesser-known spot, Sunnyside is close to the ruin of Findlater Castle. Perch on the hip-high bank or roll your trousers up and explore the rockpools that collect among the geometric rock formations.
St Combs
The fishing village of St Combs, five miles southeast of Fraserburgh, has a curved beach facing east, making it a good sunrise location. The sand is the colour of Biscoff even on an overcast day, threaded with narrow water channels trickling into the bay.
Forvie
Forvie National Nature Reserve is 13 miles north of Aberdeen and famous for its magnificent shifting sand dunes. Watch seals and a variety of birds on the River Ythan or venture north along the beach and join walking trails through mixed heather and marram grass.
Christmas always ends up being a hectic whirlwind, but this year I think we’re all looking forward to a bit of festive cheer. However, the festive season can get wasteful and very expensive, so I’ve put together a list of tips for making this Christmas a green one.
While I try to limit my online shopping, it’s inevitable that I’ll order something now and then. Luckily, the cardboard packaging is perfect for trimming down and transforming into homemade cards – ready to be decorated with photos and messages.
If you keep your cards dinky, you can make several from one piece of packaging. For even more crafty points, save the Christmas cards you receive this year and cut them out to decorate your homemade cards next year. You can make your own gift tags this way too!
A selection of last year’s cards ready to be recycled this year
Tree
There’s an ongoing debate about whether it’s better to have a real or artificial tree. While there are pros and cons of each, for fresh trees it’s best to find a locally grown one that supports local businesses and reduces the pollution associated with delivery. To find out where the local retailers are near you, check out the British Tree Growers Association.
To prevent your tree from going to landfill after Christmas, look out for tree recycling schemes which are offered by a lot of local councils. It’s also possible to rent a tree! After enjoying your tree over the Christmas period, you return it to the grower who replants it ready for next year.
There’s nothing better than that Christmas tree smell, but whether you have a real or artificial tree make sure you buy local
Decorations
Once you have your tree, you’re going to want to decorate it. We’ve all seen the countless decorations on display at garden centres but beware: lots of these ornaments are covered in glitter – a harmful microplastic which should be avoided.
For more sustainable decorations, why not make paper chains using brightly coloured cardboard from cereal boxes and other packaging? You could also gather some natural materials such as holly, ivy, pinecones or small pine branches to make your home both festive and wild.
While swapping gifts can be loads of fun, I’m sure we’ve all received some we’d sooner exchange for something else… To avoid any awkwardness on Christmas morning, get your loved ones gifts that are fun and practical – reusable metal straws or plastic-free shampoo bars perhaps.
Check out Not On The High Street for original and often personalised gifts that support small businesses.
Food
We’re all guilty of a little overindulgence at Christmas but that’s perfectly acceptable – it’s Christmas after all! Although, we should be aware of how much food we end up throwing away.
To minimise waste, it’s a good idea to eat all your freezer food during December to make room for leftovers. Everyone knows about turkey sandwiches, but there are lots of other good leftover recipes around including vegetable tray bakes, turkey curry and countless soup flavours.
Photo by George Dolgikh @ Giftpundits.com on Pexels.com
Crackers
Has anyone ever been pleased by what they’ve won in a cracker? Let’s be honest – it’s all tacky plastic tat! A very refreshing trend that’s growing more popular is homemade crackers – this handy guide is easy to follow and doesn’t require many materials, but you can experiment any way you like. Making your own crackers not only cuts down on single-use plastic but also gives you the freedom to choose the gifts. And maybe find some better jokes too.
Do you have nifty ideas for an eco-conscious Christmas? I’d love to hear them!
Painting always takes a backseat for me. Writing and photography take up all of my creative time and energy, and as a result I barely ever get round to painting even though I love it. The second I actually set out my equipment and get started, I spend hours doing it!
The other obstacle is the fact I’m a raging perfectionist. I aspire for photorealism on every piece and it just doesn’t happen. What I should be more concerned with is that my worrying is stopping me from doing what I love.
So, determined not to get bogged down by perfection, I painted a few sketches with my usual combination of watercolour and fineliner pens recently. Sure they’re a little rough round the edges but isn’t creative expression what art is all about? If we could all paint a bird to look like a photo, every piece of artwork would look identical. Naturally this is just me making an excuse for my lack of technical skill, but joking aside I think art should be about having fun no matter what the end result looks like. And everyone knows practice makes perfect.
Six years ago today I started On The Wing. In some ways it feels even longer than that, especially when I rummaged through the archive and found my first ever blog post – I was still in school! I had my whole BA ahead of me and little did I know I’d then go onto an MA and move to Scotland.
Here’s the first post from 16th March 2015:
Hi there.
My name’s Rebecca Gibson. I’m currently in my last year of school, hoping to get myself a clutch of A levels so I can go off to university. I’ve accepted Cumbria and plan to study Wildlife Media there. The dream is to be a wildlife photojournalist. Up until this point I’ve mainly worked with still image, but I would love to be a part of a nature documentary one day. I’d also love to contribute images for a magazine like BBC Wildlife and accompany them with written text, hence the journalism side.
I wanted to start a blog for several reasons. The internet is such a fantastic way of showcasing work, especially for a photographer. In seconds we can share our best images with millions of people across the globe. I also wanted to create a public domain so I could express my thoughts on wildlife conservation. For me, photography is a key medium in communicating wildlife issues; it enables the viewer to see exactly what is going on in the world. I think this is a much more effective way of encouraging action when we can see real-life events through the camera lens, instead of written words. The saying really is true: a picture speaks a thousand words.
On this blog I will share images that I take and record any wildlife adventures that I embark on. I will also give my opinion on articles published in BBC Wildlife magazine, which I am subscribed to. I’d love to connect with other keen naturalists and wildlife photographers, both amateur and professional. The best way to evolve your craft is to learn from others. I hope one day to inspire other new photographers.
I want to document my experiences in a journal format and look back on what I achieve in years to come. I’d love to see my work evolve and improve as I learn, not only from my degree but also from the world around me.
I’ll sign off for now, but I can’t wait to get this blog up and running!
Rebecca
Some of the first photos on the blog!
It’s a little cringy to read now – I certainly wouldn’t use “hence” or “embark on” in a blog post anymore, or refer to A Levels as “a clutch”. Although, it’s very satisfying to read that I dreamt of having my work featured in BBC Wildlife magazine, seeing as I now contribute to both the magazine and website!
I’d forgotten just how much my interests have shifted in six years. In my last year of school my main focus was photography. That passion for taking pictures hasn’t left me, but now I would predominantly consider myself a writer who also takes photos to support the articles. Also, photojournalism is the last thing I want to do now! It was during the BA that I grew more towards writing, which is strange because I was one of only two writers amongst a large group of photographers and filmmakers.
My undergraduate degree steered me towards writing, and my postgraduate degree (in Travel and Nature Writing) has helped me narrow my skillset into areas I didn’t anticipate. While most students on the MA are interested in the genre of nature writing that includes Robert Macfarlane, Patrick Barkham and Helen MacDonald, I’m finding myself drawn to a strange combination of fantasy fiction and factual, almost textbook, writing.
Being commissioned to write for Blue Sky Wildlife was a real turning point. As someone whose main focus has been British wildlife for about a decade, I realised I knew next to nothing about the wildlife of Canada, Australia, South America… The list was endless. Writing for Blue Sky gives me the opportunity to discover amazing things about species I’ve never seen. For example, did you know that at the base of a koala’s spine is an area of strong cartilage that acts like a cushion for when sitting on tough branches? Or that brown bears prepare for hibernation by eating as many as 20,000 calories – equivalent to about 30 kilos of apples – in a single day? I certainly didn’t, and I also didn’t know just how much I’d enjoy factual writing until Blue Sky.
Then at the complete opposite end of the spectrum, I’m also drawn to fiction. Philip Pullman and Stephen King in particular have provided a huge amount of inspiration. However, I soon discovered that sharing a fiction idea with anyone before you’ve written it is a sure fire way to sabotage the idea and dry up all creative thought. Now I keep all my fiction close to my chest, but I love having those flickerings of ideas that are so different from my writing commissions.
I enjoyed looking back on that somewhat cringy first post because it’s a reminder of how much has happened since I started the blog. I’m sure a whole lot more will happen in the next six years too, and I can’t wait to see how my writing and photography continue to develop.
Jasmine brought me the ball again and shook her fur just as I stooped to pick it up, sending a spray of sand up into my face. Since I moved to the coast, sand is now a constant in my life. Every dip in a pocket reveals a new gathering of damp and slightly fishy dust, stuck like glue to every surface. I hurled the ball and Jas pelted after it, her pitter pattering paws the only sound in an otherwise silent evening. I had the beach to myself most days anyway, but recently it had become even more unusual to see another dog walker or jogger. Jas was none the wiser and was soon back at my feet again, tossing the ball up where it splatted against my shin and left a patch of sandy residue.
The evening was gloomy. Clouds were gathering and the little sunlight left was concealed behind the point at the end of the peninsula. My wet dog was getting curlier by the minute so I gave her a treat and put her back on the lead. She picked up her ball and carried it lovingly, ears lolling either side of a sand-clogged beard. I headed up the hill towards the pink splodge that hinted at an impressive sunset and scanned the shore. Herring gulls were gathered together on the rocks while a pair of red breasted mergansers bobbed in the shallows. A cormorant shot over the surface. The usuals.
I struggled with the lead, my soggy gloves and a poo bag as I rummaged in my pocket. The vivid sunset paled instantly as my phone decided not to pick up any of the oranges or pinks that I was seeing. Scowling at the phone and the dog as she began to dig a hole at my feet, I contented myself with just watching the sunset, but a black scratch on the water quickly made my stomach flip over. I lifted the binoculars up and yes! A dorsal fin! I could barely believe what I was seeing. For the last month I’d believed that dolphins were mythical creatures and I was more likely to see Nessie. But no, there were multiple bottlenose dolphins out there. As Jas continued to tug at a particularly stubborn tussock, I buzzed with excitement as the dolphins surfaced again. I counted four fins, although it was difficult when they didn’t all appear together. They were heading around the point so I followed them, hurrying along the thin trail that wound around the sheer edge of the hill. If I tripped the wrong way I’d plummet into the sea but I wasn’t too aware of that at the time. Jas followed reluctantly, no doubt wondering what the fuss was about.
Again! Definitely four fins, dark against the pale water. They were out of the sunset now and trickier to spot. Without the bright light, they were swallowed up by the mist already obscuring most of the horizon. They came up again but I could barely make them out. I began to feel rain, the sort of rain you don’t notice until you’re drenched, so I walked back to the house, scanning sideways the whole time, but my dolphins were gone for now.
After sharing four of my top wildlife sites in the UK I began to think of more and more, so here are another set of places that everyone should visit. Read on for dwarf pansies, red squirrels, white-tailed eagles and a particularly spectacular murmuration.
Isles of Scilly
It sounds like an exaggeration but the Isles of Scilly really are incredible. I chose Scilly as the location for my final major project during my undergraduate degree and spent six days wandering through remote and near-tropical landscapes. Despite only being 28 miles from Cornwall, Scilly is so separate from mainland life that many of its species have evolved differently. The blackbirds have blood orange bills instead of their usual tangerine, wrens sing different songs and some plants are found nowhere else in the UK but on those few scattered islands.
I was there to try and find the dwarf pansy, a flower so tiny that the petals barely cover a little fingernail. By some miracle I found it, but Scilly also surprised me with its dramatic geology, impressive bird life and scorching temperatures. I didn’t have time to visit all the islands, but Bryher was by far my favourite. As well as the dwarf pansy, I found the furious waves of Hell Bay (the name is no coincidence), swarms of dog violet blooms and beaches impossible to describe without using clichés. I’ve promised myself I’ll go back to Scilly, not only to tick off the other islands but to just spend time in a place with barely any roads, air so clean that lichens bloom on almost every tree, and plants so special that crazy students travel hundreds of miles to find them.
Dwarf pansy
Eskrigg Nature Reserve
My mum had never seen a red squirrel before I took her to Eskrigg Nature Reserve. I’d been spoilt rotten there; after only two visits I’d seen about ten squirrels foraging six feet in front of me. Eskrigg is an exceptionally special place, managed by an exceptionally special person. I made a short documentary about Jim Rae for a university assignment and learnt just how much he has done not only for the reserve but also the community in Lockerbie.
As well as red squirrels, I have spent hours watching bramblings, great-spotted woodpeckers, siskins and even a female mandarin duck on a rare visit. When my parents came to see me I took them straight to Eskrigg. While Dad occupied the dog, I sat with Mum outside the hide (no need to sit inside with such laid-back wildlife) and waited less than twenty minutes before squirrels were bounding and chasing right under our boots. My mum had the same look of complete adoration on her face that I did the first time I saw them. There are certain animals that make a person’s mouth fall open and demands all their attention. Red squirrels do this effortlessly.
Isle of Carna
I could write pages about Carna. I went there in 2016 on an expedition with Wild Intrigue to leave technology behind and rewild myself. Carna is situated in Loch Sunart on the west coast of Scotland. We spent five days staying in one of two cottages on the entire island, which is let out to people looking for a break in complete seclusion. Even the deer have to swim to get there, which is certainly an unusual sight.
This was my first real foray into Scottish wilderness, and I couldn’t have asked for better guides. I didn’t know Heather and Cain well then, but they have since become good friends who have not only taught me most of what I know about wildlife, but have given me amazing opportunities, not least a year long internship as their Creative Content Developer.
During my stay on Carna I saw my first otter, cuckoo, golden eagle and white-tailed eagles. You know you’re in a truly wild place when white-tailed eagles become a regular occurrence after the first couple of days. We found common blennies, butterfish and dog whelks in rock pools, caught a female wood mouse in a live-capture Longworth trap and recorded foxes, roe deer and voles on trail cameras. It was a crash course in wildlife fieldcraft that showed me just how diverse Scotland is, and will always be remembered fondly as my first true wildlife trip.
Butterfish
Avalon Marshes
Before our trip to Avalon Marshes, my time in Somerset had been windy, soggy and cold, so I wasn’t feeling particularly inspired when we arrived just as more rain was spotting my face. We headed along the river and took our position looking out over a reed bed. Forty minutes later, I was trying not to fall backwards as I watched 250,000 starlings swirling over my head. I’d never seen a starling murmuration before, and I was being thoroughly spoilt with my first experience. Not only starlings but a merlin, marsh harrier and peregrine falcon trying to snatch a meal, as well as a grey heron that chose the wrong time to take flight and found itself in a starling storm.
As majestic as murmurations look on TV, they are nothing compared to the real thing. The sound of that many starlings flying over your head is like soft rain, which is amplified by cupping a hand around your ear. I had my mouth hanging open like a cartoon character the entire time, scarcely believing the swarming shapes I was seeing. It was like a static screen come alive. Eventually, the starlings swooped down to roost, almost at the same time. The reed bed became a seething frenzy of voices and the sky was empty again.
Last week there was a film screening event at the Scottish Dolphin Centre in Spey Bay. I didn’t know anyone there but soon found myself chatting to an elderly couple whose fierce pride of Scotland was immediately clear. We chatted about the Moray dolphins and the house that they planned to build with a view out to sea. It was the sort of life I was looking for myself.
The film was “Vitamin Sea”: an hour long documentary that followed ocean advocate and veterinary surgeon Cal Major as she attempted to be the first person to journey from Land’s End to John O’Groats by Stand Up Paddleboard. Cal was raising money for Samaritans and Vet Life in memory of her best friend who lost her battle with depression. I didn’t realise there is a high suicide rate among vets and not enough is currently being done to support them. Cal was also raising awareness of plastic pollution – scooping up hundreds of plastic bottles along the way – and showing how beneficial nature, and the ocean in particular, can be for our emotional wellbeing. If we spend time in an environment and form a relationship with it, Cal says, then people will want to protect it.
What I love about Cal is her positivity. While topics such as plastic and climate change can often bring doom and gloom, she discusses positive solutions and encourages us all to do little things that bring great benefits. Throughout her 900 mile journey Cal meets countless people who donate to her cause, help out with litter picks and show their support in so many other ways. Even in places like Manchester, where plastic pollution was at its worst along Cal’s route, spirits were high and people clearly showed their passion for protecting their natural environment.
At times the film was very moving. Cal revisited a place where she spent a holiday with her lost friend, and at times broke down from the combination of finding so much litter and experiencing sheer exhaustion. The constant struggles and exertions only made reaching the finishing line more emotional. After two months on the water with a sole purpose, it seemed almost anti-climactic when Cal touched land at the end of her journey. Overwhelmed with emotion, she debated staying with nature at sea and letting it continue to “heal” and “wow” her.
What resonated with me was the “profound sense of joy” that comes with being on the ocean surrounded by natural beauty. Many of us feel an undeniable pull to the ocean – that beautiful, unpredictable element of nature that compels our love and respect. Seeing so much litter clogging beaches where seals and birds roamed was difficult, but knowing that people like Cal are raising awareness with a positive message is so refreshing.
As we watched a drone’s eye view over mountains and stretching ocean at the end of the film, the man beside me leant over and asked, “Do you think you’ll go back again?”
For the past few months, I’ve had a growing sense of being in the wrong place. I’ve lived in Hertfordshire all my life, but since coming back from university in Cumbria, I haven’t felt like I’ve belonged in the south. Throughout my childhood and adolescence, I’ve been lucky enough to spend a lot of holidays and days out in Scotland, and I’ve started to realise that I’m happiest there. Inspiration comes easier, as does my ability to concentrate. There is a wealth of material to write about and the landscape cries out to be drawn and painted. Although I’ve never lived in a city, there is a feeling of congestion in the south that I’ve been more and more affected by. This feeling completely disappears in Scotland. There are fewer people and more animals, which my inner introvert loves.
So, I can now finally say that I am moving to Scotland. I came to the conclusion that I should do what makes me happy and be in a place where creativity and imagination are enhanced by the land around me. I want to walk in woods where there are pine martens and hike up hills where there are golden eagles! I’ve been lucky enough to see some iconic Scottish species already, including martens and eagles, but others are still mysteries. I doubt I’ll ever catch a glimpse of a Scottish wildcat, but just knowing that they are there somewhere is so exciting.
Every time I drive along the A96 during visits to my parents in Moray, often with dense forest pressing in on both sides, I peer into the shadows and imagine what creatures could be lurking between the trees. Of course, there are many beautiful places in Hertfordshire, but none within walking distance of where I live. I can’t step outside my front door and see the ocean hurtling towards the shore. I can’t walk for five minutes and reach a 1700 acre forest, or look into a sky full of stars and hope for the aurora borealis to show. I can do all of this from my parents’ house, where they live at the end of a peninsula jutting out into rumbling waves.
I’m currently staying with my parents for a few days and I can’t believe that this stunning place will soon be my home. I am studying for my MA until 2021, so the plan is to find some part time work or volunteering in conservation to fill my time alongside my studies and keep the CV fresh. I have so many goals for my new life in Scotland, including:
Do the North Coast 500 – an epic road trip around the entire northern tip of Scotland
Properly see otters – so far I’ve only seen a distant shadowy lump at night
See a basking shark
Go wild swimming – I’ll wait until summer for this one
Go kayaking in a loch
Visit all the major islands starting with Skye, Jura and Islay
See the Northern Lights – seemingly equal to seeing a unicorn but it is actually possible!
Learn some Gaelic – I’m fascinated by Gaelic – my favourite discovery so far is the name for the white-tailed sea eagle “lolaire suile na greine”, which translates as “the eagle with the sunlit eye”
Despite having visited Scotland on and off for the past 17 years, there is still so much I haven’t seen, and when I move I will have complete freedom to explore. After my next residential trip for university in February I shall be ready to leave life in the south behind me and begin a new, and far wilder, chapter in the north.
The British Wildlife Centre (BWC) is a little pocket of countryside that combines wetland, woodland and marsh to create the ideal natural environment for around forty species native to the UK. The centre is home to birds, mammals and reptiles, some of which have been rehabilitated because of permanent injury or too much contact with humans. They range in size from harvest mice to red deer with all sorts in between. It’s a particular treat to be able to see animals native to Scotland such as the pine marten and the Scottish wildcat, the latter of which is now critically endangered.
Pine marten
Five years ago, I attended one of the BWC’s photography days, which was a fantastic opportunity to practise using my new telephoto lens and get to grips with wildlife photography. Taking part in the photography day enables guests to visit the centre out of hours and get even closer to the animals. Recently I decided to return to the BWC and see what I could capture.
A lot of wildlife writers I know don’t post about captive wildlife. I can understand why – regardless of the facility it is the concept of animals in cages that they don’t agree with. However, the BWC isn’t cramming elephants into its enclosures. Conservation of British wildlife is at the forefront of their objectives and this is done primarily through education. When the centre is closed to the public, the BWC welcomes school groups and those in higher education to provide “a real natural history experience”. What I love most about the BWC is that it aims to promote greater involvement in British wildlife by giving children and students an opportunity to study native wildlife in a natural setting.
Roe buck
A particular favourite of mine was Flo the red fox. She rested with her eyelids drooping, her fur glistening fiery orange in the bright sun. She is one of the animals that has become too habituated with humans to be released, so she enjoys unlimited cuddles from the keepers. I sat down beside the fence and she got to her feet, stepping through the grass to lie down close to me. I took the chance to admire the stunning brush tail that swept around her back legs, her wet black nose and long whiskers. It was impossible to see how anyone could hate such a stunning animal. I sat with Flo for a while, the two of us basking in unnaturally hot November weather until a family with children approached and she trotted over to say hello.
rebeccaonthewing.com 