A Cabin on Stilts

June 21, 2021October 22, 2021 | Rebecca Gibson

I can’t believe we’re almost halfway through the year already! June has flown by…

I spent the whole of last week on the west coast of Scotland for an MA assignment. I had to organise a self-led trip and two of my previous plans had already been cancelled, so it was a relief to finally go!

And what a week it was. I stayed in a chalet belonging to friends of mine, which stands on stilts at the edge of a loch. I woke up to ravens outside the front door and on two occasions an otter swam past! It was so refreshing to have a change of scenery and spend time with different wildlife.

One of my highlights has to be the divers. On the first day I spotted a distant red throated diver, but the great northern and black throated divers were particularly photogenic and wandered close to shore. Before my trip I hadn’t seen any divers in breeding plumage so struggled to tell them apart, but after watching them daily at the chalet I soon learnt which was which. And what stunners they were in their monochrome harlequin costumes! On several occasions I saw five black throated divers at once, and even across the loch I could make out their gorgeous barcode plumage.

The bird excitement continued even closer to the chalet. Visitors to the feeder included goldfinches, greenfinches, siskins and lesser redpolls. I’d never seen such a glittering display of birds while sat on a sofa before! I’d also never seen a feeder being emptied quite so quickly…

I really was surrounded by wildlife. One evening as I was getting ready for bed, I peered out the window and saw a stag munching on bracken right next to the washing line! Worried he’d bolt if he saw me, I crept outside and peered round the corner. He glanced up briefly mid-chew but continued browsing almost straight away. I’d forgotten he wasn’t a camera-shy roe deer that scarpers as soon as it senses me. This was a bolshy red deer, and he let me watch him munching his way through the garden for half an hour.

And speaking of munching, I was thrilled to also be visited by a pine marten! The little scamp came almost every night and I had no trouble recording its visits on my trail camera, but seeing it in the flesh was a lot trickier. Despite staying up until 2am on some occasions I didn’t manage to see it, but on the fifth night at 11pm I was watching a field mouse on the decking when the marten appeared, still in moderate daylight! The mouse was just as shocked as I was and sat frozen for several hairy moments before racing for cover. The marten didn’t even look up – obviously peanut butter was more enticing!

Although the wildlife was incredible, the weather left a little to be desired. Streaming rain blurred the loch some days, and there was a determined wind that kept the midges away but prevented me from ticking a particularly exciting task off my bucket list: wild swimming. I’d brought my wetsuit and was really looking forward to going for a dip, but the wind was chilling and I wasn’t feeling up to it. Before long it was my penultimate day in Assynt and I was disappointed that I might not be able to get in the water.

I went for a walk along the beach, scavenging for sea glass and other treasures. Almost next to the road was a tiny tube with a clear orange tint, looking to the untrained eye like a bit of plastic. But I lunged to pick it up because it was a mermaid’s purse! These extraordinary objects are the egg cases of sharks and after asking around on Instagram I was told that this one belonged to a dogfish.

I’ll admit, I saw this as a sign. Especially when the sun broke out and I felt a smidge warmer. I’d found a mermaid’s purse and I was going to swim. The water temperature was 14° and with my wetsuit on I was just fine. It was my first time swimming in Scottish waters and I fell completely in love. Watching the waves from wave-level is quite a surreal experience, and I loved that I was right where the otter had been just the night before.

It was the perfect way to end a trip full of wildness and nature. I was really quite sorry to leave, but I had over 1000 photos to edit and dozens of note pages to go through…

The Whisper of a Stream

May 4, 2021May 4, 2021 | Rebecca Gibson

Once restrictions were eased in Scotland and I was given a precious piece of freedom to venture outside of my county of Moray, I planned a day trip to the Cairngorms. One of my favourite sounds is the whisper of a stream in a forest – it’s the epitome of fairytale magic for me. So when I arrived at Inshriach Forest on the western flank of the Cairngorm plateau and heard that incredible sound, I made a beeline for it. I passed other people heading up a rocky hill trail that would take them into the mountains. But I’m more forest sprite than mountain goat – my place is at ground level.

Inshriach is part of one of the Cairngorms National Park’s eight National Nature Reserves. As well as ancient Caledonian pinewood it contains mountainous and heather moor habitats too. Scottish rarities such as crossbills, red squirrels and crested tits are found there. There’s also the possibility of seeing golden eagles over the mountains, but I had my eyes on the ground rather than the sky.

A trodden grass trail broke away from the main track and I followed it, only briefly distracted by chaffinches and a characteristically vocal wren. The sound grew louder until eventually I was close enough to see the water sparkling in the bright sun. It was gorgeous. Allt Ruadh it was called – a tributary of the River Feshie.

Dumping my rucksack, I knelt at the edge and dipped a hand. Just as icy as I suspected. I always feel an urge to swim in wild water or at least wade knee-deep, but even with the sun it was far too cold for me on this occasion. Still, just to see and hear all that stirring water was a treat. I settled on the bank and crossed my fingers for dippers.

I spent several hours there, reminded of the time only by my rumbling stomach. As I leant back against the rocks with my soup flask and watched the rapids churn up white froth, my gaze caught on a flash of yellow. A grey wagtail! It was standing in the centre of the river, bobbing its tail and fluttering from rock to rock. After examining each one around me, it flew to the top of a Scots pine and began to sing. I’ve seen many different birds using treetops as a singing perch but never a wagtail, so it was both a surprise and a privilege. Its song was so loud I could hear it above the stream.

I suppose this is how I meditate. I can’t sit in a lotus pose, close my eyes and listen to drum music – my mind just wanders to deadlines and errands. But if I disappear into the wild and fill every one of my senses with nature, I forget all the admin and sink into the closest meditative state I can manage. It helps if there’s no service because it means my phone is useless. Having no connection to the material world could be scary I suppose, but if I stay safe and pack accordingly I can enjoy complete solitude and peace, if only for a morning.

Sixth Birthday

March 16, 2021March 16, 2021 | Rebecca Gibson

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.

One Year

February 22, 2021 | Rebecca Gibson

Today is a special day for me because it’s exactly one year since I moved to Scotland. And what a year it’s been! When I arrived last February I obviously had no idea what was about to go down. Still, I feel so fortunate to have had such a fantastic first year in my new home despite the pandemic. Luckily for me I would choose a forest walk over a pint any day, although I must admit I’ve missed having a good browse in the library.

‘I’ve been in a slump for months,’ I wrote this time last year. ‘So to finally be in a place that inspires and challenges me is both a relief and a privilege.’

Time moves strangely sometimes. It feels like I’ve been here a lot longer than a year and yet the 568 mile drive sticks vividly in my mind. Almost as soon as I crossed the border into Scotland it began to snow. I’d just joined the motorway and every car slowed to 20mph while the world turned white. I interpreted that as some sort of baptism of fire. Or snow I suppose.

When I got here I started making all sorts of plans: volunteering at the Scottish Dolphin Centre, training to be a Shorewatch volunteer for Whale and Dolphin Conservation, joining a writer’s group, finding out about local art exhibitions. But a few weeks later the first lockdown began and we all know how it goes from there. Despite all of that, I’ve still tried to make the most of my time here. I’ve seen loads of new birds, my photography’s come on leaps and bounds and I’ve been making steady progress with writing commissions too.

This morning I took my dog out for a walk and found myself wandering up to the headland. When I arrived in Scotland this quickly became one of my favourite spots and before long I was watching dolphins, basking sharks and loads of different birds from up there. Today I sat there again and admired the blue blush of sky reflected in the water. It was completely calm – perfect conditions for spotting dolphins. It’s still a few months before dolphin season kicks off though. I love that I know that. After watching and studying the place this year I’ve started to align myself to its natural rhythm. If I glimpse a distant bird on the backshore I know what it is before lifting the binoculars to check. A year ago I hadn’t even heard of turnstones or redshanks – now they’re familiar and welcome sights.

There’s still a lot of progress to make. I don’t know exactly where I’d like to settle yet, but it won’t be far from where I am. This place has got under my skin in the best way. Although it wasn’t the first year I’d planned, it’s still been one of the best of my life so far and I can’t wait to see what the second year brings.

2020 Wrapped Up

December 31, 2020December 30, 2020 | Rebecca Gibson

Well that was an interesting one. I always like to write a little summary at the end of each year, reflecting on what I’ve achieved since last Christmas. This year is no exception, but like everyone else on the planet I couldn’t have anticipated what was about to happen when I wrote in my last yearly summary: “I have a great feeling about 2020.”

The truth is, despite the obvious uncertainty and difficulty that came with COVID-19, I’ve actually had a really productive year. I count myself very lucky to have been able to continue plugging away at my writing during lockdown, where I had little choice but to open the laptop and type something. I combined my daily exercise with photography and took some of my best images so far.

It was so much fun keeping a species list for the first time this year, which has since become my “nerd list”. I planned to just keep a record of the birds I saw on the stretch of shoreline by my house but the nerd list soon became a record of everything I saw wherever I went. Now, at the end of the year, I’ve seen 156 different species of bird, mammal, amphibian and fish, including 55 lifer species! If you’re also a nerd then you can see the full list at the end of this post…

My favourite photos of 2020 – all taken in Scotland apart from the orcas in Norway!

The most significant change this year was the move to Scotland. I’d been considering it last year, but it took the company I worked for going into administration and being made redundant to force me to take the leap. And that was the best decision I could have made. I’ve been in Moray for ten months now and I’m here to stay. I could see myself settling a little further south in the Cairngorms National Park – those ancient pinewoods are way too tempting – but living by the sea for the first time has been so special.

I received my first writing commissions at the end of 2019 and this year my portfolio has continued to grow. I was thrilled to be asked to write two book reviews, a TV review and a website article for BBC Wildlife magazine and several of my photos were featured on their social media and online articles. I have also been invited back to the Wild Intrigue family as Writer in Residence and I can’t wait to get more involved with this in 2021.

One of my paintings that accompanied a Wild Intrigue blog

I first met my friend Steve while I was admiring a group of waders on the backshore and he hurtled by in his van shouting “Look up there are dolphins!” Since then we’ve gone on lots of wildlife excursions and I got my first experience of van life. I love the nomadic nature of living in a van – eating breakfast in one place and then being somewhere completely different by dinner. My favourite trip has to be when we journeyed to the west coast in October (between lockdowns) to see the red deer rut. I’ve wanted to hear stags bellowing for ages and this year I succeeded. Friends of ours have a beautiful wood cabin on the edge of a loch, which was the perfect base for a deer photography trip. As well as that, we were visited nightly by badgers and pine martens!

One of my most treasured highlights of the year was Norway, which very nearly didn’t happen but after lots of nail biting I managed to get there. Norway’s restrictions meant we had to quarantine for ten days and get a COVID test that involved a cotton bud going way too far up my nose… It was all worth it though and I’ll never forget the experience. After an incredible first half spent watching northern lights and white tailed eagles soaring over the house, the second half featured my first humpback whales and orcas. I was very happy to have my article and photos from the trip published by Oceanographic magazine too.

Winter is probably my favourite season and I’ve been in a particularly wintery mood this year. As they say, there’s no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothes! I loved wrapping up and seeing both local wildlife and a couple of special visitors. In early December I was very lucky to see some waxwings that had arrived in my local town. I was also fortunate enough to see redwings and fieldfares this winter. My plans to photograph mountain hares in the snow were put on hold when Scotland went into Tier 4 on Boxing Day, but hopefully there will be an opportunity next year.

After the year we’ve had, I’m a little reluctant to make any New Year’s resolutions but there are some things that are luckily still in my control! Last year I had a real buzz for art and started a nature journal and the Instagram Inktober challenge to keep it up. Sadly these fizzled out and although I still love drawing and painting, it’s my photography that’s really soared this year. When I was living in Hertfordshire I went for months without taking any photos, but since moving to Scotland I’ve used my camera almost daily. I’ve vastly improved my portfolio and take great pride in some of the shots I’ve taken.

Sadly, my trusty old Canon DSLR bit the dust on Christmas Day! So it was time to upgrade. I’ve deliberated over what camera to get next for ages and whether to go mirrorless or not. When Steve recently bought Canon’s latest professional mirrorless – the very swanky R5 – I can’t deny I was won over. The quality is incredible but perhaps the clinching factor was the silent shooting. No mirror means no click, and when it comes to capturing the shyer animals such as deer and otters, camera clicks can spell disaster.

So this week I ordered my own R5 and I can’t wait to see just how much it can improve my work. Although writing is still my main focus, photography has developed into an even greater passion this year and is such a great visual accompaniment to my articles. While I have no idea if I’ll be able to achieve this in our current climate, in 2021 I aspire to photograph my first otters, British orcas and pine martens. No pressure!

There are some other (some might say more realistic) things I’d like to achieve in 2021:

Learn to recognise at least ten tree species – my tree knowledge is pretty shameful and considering I spend all my time in forests this needs to change!
Write morning pages every day – lots of writers swear by morning pages and I’d love to try free writing each day and see how it affects my work
Have all my writing notes in one place – I have an awful habit of jotting down notes and observations in a dozen different notebooks, so finding something again is hopeless. I want to get more organised and put all my writing in one place moving forward.

As I write this, snow is falling in quite a dramatic fashion and I’m like a little kid all over again. I’ll probably pass on making snowmen this time, but I can’t wait to see all my furry and feathery neighbours in the new white world. Who knows what will happen in 2021, but all we can do is carry on. The word I chose for myself last year was “improve” and I can say with confidence that I’ve done that. I’ve found where I want to live, earned some money from what I want to do and seen some incredible wildlife.

An excellent year’s progress.

Vitamin Sea

March 17, 2020March 16, 2020 | Rebecca Gibson

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?”

I really don’t think so.

Relocation

January 17, 2020May 3, 2022 | Rebecca Gibson

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.

Escape to the Wilds

November 1, 2019 | Rebecca Gibson

Recently I travelled up to Northumberland to visit friends from university. They are two of the busiest people I know, so I was pleased to be able to steal a few days in October to catch up and visit their local patch.

The first thing I experienced was severe house envy. Wildlife art adorned every wall; the sort of beautiful paintings and drawings that I planned to splash all over my own home some day. However, it was the bookshelf that really caught my attention. Sprawled across an entire wall and almost reaching the ceiling, it was crammed with every book on natural history you could want. Not just modern paperbacks but antiquarian hardbacks with leather bound covers and swirling gold titles. In front of every row of books was an envious selection of treasures: pinecones, gannet eggshells, roe deer antlers, pin badges, lino prints, Wade Whimsies, fossils, gemstones, lichens, miniature animal wood carvings and a beautifully preserved badger skull with its lower jaw intact. I spent ages studying everything in turn, gravitating first to the roe antlers. I have a roe buck skull of my own – one of my most prized possessions – but I still long to find dropped antlers too. It was an impressive collection of everything nature, framed by dozens of books from my wish list.

I stayed with my friends for a long weekend and managed to cram quite a lot into those few days. Heather and I visited a fantastic patch of woodland, which was home to not only red squirrels but also pine martens! I knew we probably wouldn’t catch a glimpse of one during the day, but it was still exciting to walk among trees that might be housing a sleeping marten. It was so peaceful and quiet with only faint birdsong punctuating the air. As we searched for fungi to photograph, I found a gorgeous caterpillar making its way along the fence. Later, we discovered it was a buff tip moth caterpillar.

The next day I helped Heather with a “Mini Wildlife Adventure” that she was running for a child’s birthday party. The boy was intrigued by nature and so he and his friends spent the morning pond dipping, searching for bugs, finding badger prints and birdwatching in a hide. It was such a fantastic idea for a birthday party, and it was particularly refreshing to see that the boys had good wildlife knowledge and were genuinely excited by what they saw. Educating children about nature at a young age is the key to ensuring they continue to care about it when they grow up. Those boys would have spent hours pond dipping if we’d had the time, and it was so lovely to see.

That evening Heather, Cain and I spent a peaceful last evening watching Sherlock with the fire cracking and snapping in the grate. It had been a pretty jam-packed weekend but as always, I felt inspired with a rejuvenated love for nature that always comes after a trip to northern England or Scotland. I sometimes struggle to feel that same passion at home in the south, where there are more people and noise and far fewer pine martens. I love escaping to the wilder parts of the UK and look forward to another wildlife adventure very soon.

2018 Wrapped Up

January 3, 2019December 24, 2019 | Rebecca Gibson

December was quite a dry month for me in terms of inspiration, so I apologise for the distinct lack of posts over the past few weeks. It is high time for some fresh writing, but before beginning anything new in 2019, I wanted to reflect on the progress I made in 2018.

Last year began with my first breakup. After having seen and spent time with a person almost every day and now suddenly being faced with the possibility of never seeing them again, I suffered quite a knock. My inspiration took a significant slump at a time when I needed it most: the launch of my final major assignment at university.

Determined not to let a relationship affect my work, I applied for a grant to help fund an expedition. I had a whacky idea about going to the Isles of Scilly, which at the time seemed a very far-off venture and logistically challenging to say the least. However, after presenting to a panel of judges I was granted enough money to completely cover travel and accommodation. It took a while to come to terms with the fact that the Scilly expedition was really happening.

It was just the solution I needed for my slump. Spending six days in near-complete wilderness with a list of images to take was a perfect and rewarding distraction. I was filled with exciting ideas for my project – a study on the rare and unique flora of Scilly, including the dwarf pansy which is the size of a baby fingernail and found nowhere else in the UK. I was so fascinated by Scilly’s diverse wildlife and intriguing ecosystems, and I never wanted the trip to end. It is a place I will now treasure, as it helped me through a very difficult time, not to mention providing a huge boost to my confidence. I had funded, planned and carried out a full expedition single-handedly, and returned with a great story to tell. Following the trip was my last exhibition at university, and my project was received well. I even made some money from my photographs, which was an unexpected bonus.

Before I knew it, it was time to finish my degree. I picked up my life in Cumbria and brought it back home to Hertfordshire, where I (foolishly) thought that I would land a job straight away. This wasn’t to be the case, but what followed instead was a truly life-changing experience: an internship in Florida.

I didn’t really know what to expect when I was invited for a two-month internship in America to work with SEZARC. I knew they worked with zoos to monitor their animals and help facilitate breeding, but I didn’t know where I would fit in with a media background. I went simply with the aim of learning as much as I could about a completely new field and enjoying the opportunity to contribute to wildlife conservation.

I’d never been abroad on my own before, nor had I been outside of Europe before. Upon arrival, I was hit by extreme panic triggered by a strange new place, having to drive a car in a strange new place, and the fear that this had all been a terrible mistake. However, after a very careful car journey from the airport and arriving unscathed at my accommodation, I was filled with perhaps a disproportionately large sense of achievement. My small victory spurred me on, and after a few more shaky days, I found my rhythm.

Two months later, I was torn between wanting to see my family and friends back home, and wanting to stay a little longer with my new friends in Florida. I had loved the work I did with SEZARC, which was varied and fascinating. I also fulfilled a dream of mine, even if just for a little while: I’d learned to ballroom dance, and met the most kind and welcoming people. Back home in England, I truly realised what an incredible time I’d had in America.

And it wasn’t over. Later in the autumn, I caught up with my friends at SEZARC and was asked to produce their annual report of their progress this year. It is work that I thoroughly enjoy, and I’m so pleased that SEZARC want to keep me involved.

So, moving forwards. The past year has taught me so much, not just about work but also about myself. In all honesty I have no idea what 2019 will bring. I’m hoping a job, but in the meantime I want to continue writing and learning new things (next up is the guitar!) I have the tendency of being anxious without a strategic plan, but after this year I’ve discovered that you just can’t know where twelve months will take you. A year ago today, I had no idea I would soon be journeying to America by myself, nor was I remotely aware that my relationship was about to end. All through school it’s easy to know what’s next: the following year up. There is no mystery, not even after you finish school. For me, the choice was easy and I was going to university. Now that’s over too, and I’m trying not to be daunted by the unknown because as I’ve found out this last year, the unknown can be incredible.