Photographing ospreys at Rothiemurchus isn’t cheap – roughly £120 per session – and for those who have previously used the site, you’ll know that shots were by no means guaranteed. The birds could fish over an extensive area and it was hit and miss whether they would dive near enough to the hides to get a decent sized image. Shots are still not guaranteed but with the new pool, you’re in with a much better chance of the plan coming together. Two low-level hides look out over a small lochan and if a bird dives anywhere in view, there’s a shot to be had. The backgrounds are good, the hides are well positioned and what has never been in doubt is the staff’s enthusiasm to help you secure the best shots possible.

I’ve been asked about the merits of osprey photography at Rothiemurchus many times and I’ve got to be honest, I’ve sat on the fence for the most part. Now I’m not on commission (are you listening Julian?) but I do like to see hard work and a pioneering spirit rewarded, so I would now say with some confidence that this is the finest location I know of, even taking into account the well-visited Finnish facility, for photographing fishing ospreys; not just in Britain but in Europe. OK it’s early days but if you’re thinking about travelling to Finland, my humble advice would be to consider this facility first.

You can book directly with Rothiemurchus here but if I can be candid, I’d recommend our very own package which includes full accommodation, food, transport, tuition and an added bonus, exclusive osprey photography at our own private site. You can view the tour here and although this year’s dates are full, here are the provisional dates for 2013:

May 11-15; July 13-17; July 20-24. Drop us a line if you want to be put on the reserve list.

The images in this blog are a mixture between Finland and the ‘old’ Rothiemurchus set up. If all goes to plan with the new pool, there will be a whole new generation of osprey images appearing in the media taking the bar to new heights.

For fear of misrepresenting my husband I should add that for him, a visit from the Mother-in-law is in fact welcome as it means ironing getting done on an industrial scale. Pants, socks, and hankies – nothing escapes her hot steamy iron. But this is no ordinary iron, this is a rocket-shaped, turbocharged, steam-spluttering iron that gurgles away for hours on end. Her bedroom door remains shut for days, the only sign of life being the steam creeping out from underneath the threshold and then, as if by magic, there appears a pile of ironing the likes of which our house rarely witnesses. She even puts it away!

Nobody is allowed to touch the iron in my Mum’s absence (it goes away in the ‘stuff’ cupboard until her next visit). I have to say that for me, ironing is a luxury that demands time and inclination that I simply haven’t got. So if anyone spots a strange human form that kind of resembles either Pete or Sam but obviously can’t be with clean ironed clothes like that, it is indeed life – just not as we know it. A week or so from now, their usual vagabond appearance will be resumed.

Of course they could always do their own ironing. Hmmm…

My mum headed off home this morning (looking very smart) and as I left for the station I heard my first cuckoo of the year. Life is good with or without ironed clothes!

So where is professional nature photography heading? Well, that’s probably a subject for a six-part blockbuster blog, and even if I knew the answer – which I don’t – I’m not sure it addresses my current thought processes. So let’s just stop and think and strip it all back to basics.

Reading David Noton’s piece in a recent edition of Outdoor Photography, I was struck by the simple truth that our pursuit of photographic trophies – those images you can hold aloft and shout about – really isn’t the end in itself but the means to the end. Without the drive that all photographers have to some degree, to secure the images we want, in all likelihood we wouldn’t find ourselves stood on a coastal headland at daft o’clock or freezing your wotsits off in a Scottish blizzard or being so close to a bear that you can smell its rancid breath. These experiences are the real trophies; these are the memories that will etch themselves on your soul for ever – the camera is just the excuse for being there.

So is it just about having fun? In some cases most definitely but I’m not yet 100% sold on that notion – perhaps I just don’t wear frivolity very comfortably. That said, my perspective has changed in recent years. Photography allows us, perhaps forces us, to see the world differently and certainly the experiences I’ve been afforded from standing behind a camera, have shaped what I think, what I feel, what I am. As I reluctantly approach the half-century mark, I’ve learned that the most valuable asset I own is not my image archive but my memory archive, the one stored in my minds eye.

If you live in the area and to be brutally frank, even if you don’t, you could do worse than get yourself along to Steyning Camera Club for around 7.30pm. Tickets are £6 and that’s probably less than you’d spend on electricity if you stayed in to watch double Coronation Street with a cup of tea in between episodes (although rest assured I’ll be recording it).

You can buy tickets here and below is a poster telling you all about it, but in essence it’s me showing lots of pictures and talking…alot. Some of it might even make sense. It’s a long way from home for me so do come along and say hello.

There’s something primeval about standing on a rocky ledge with the angry pounding surf of the Atlantic just feet away; equally there’s no more a soothing sensation than a tranquil turquoise ocean caressing the white sands at your feet. Call it what you will – spiritual renewal if you like – it’s the contrast, the juxtaposition, the ludicrous beauty before you, that is both intoxicating and addictive. You can never have enough of this photographic nectar.

From our cosy bolt hole in North Harris our hardy group ventured out each dawn. Harris and Lewis, our chosen islands for this tour, are not best placed to offer views to the east – they better lend themselves to sunset interpretations, but as I say, this is a place of unpredictability. We photographed Luskentyre every which way and in all weathers and if nothing else, it made our hearty breakfasts slide down that bit easier!

Callanish was disappointing and although the famous stones were obligingly coated in icing sugar snow, they were also coated in tourists making photography almost impossible during the few brief minutes of footprint-free snow cover.

We ventured to the remote rocky shoreline of West Lewis to be greeted by hail that felt like nails being driven in to your face and then, only minutes later, the most glorious sun glistening on the wet rocks. And so it was for the whole tour.

I’m guilty of repetition at the best of times but we really are blessed with the good nature – not to mention good humour – of our tour groups and the Wild West Class of 2012 was no different. My sincere thanks to Thelma, Sasha, Roger, Gill, Duncan and Debbie and of course Paul (veteran of many Northshots tours) for their really excellent company and valued custom.

There was a Bohemian monk who went to bed in a bunk…no, on second thoughts best just hold that in the memory banks!!

If you’d like to join us on the Wild Wild West Coast in 2013, details will be published on our tour page shortly.

…and a few images of our hardy group…

Spring is here and that means longer days. Here in the Highlands, MUCH longer days. When those days start clear, crisp and sunny, as has been the case recently, it means the alarm clock will be going off at all sorts of ridiculous hours and Pete will be clattering around the bedroom with what seems like a wildebeest migration in tow; all for the sake of a few pictures. He seems to think that the fact his alarm is set to a soft harp-like sound, will allow me to fall instantly back to sleep. That might work were it not for the green woodpecker, the greater-spotted woodpecker and what seems like every other woodpecker species, all making their own announcement of the arrival of spring and all doing it from what seems like my bedroom window sill. And so it is that I get up early. VERY early.

It’s on with the kettle for a large cup of Earl Grey in my “Golden Oldie” mug (Sam’s cheeky Mother’s Day pressie). I start the washing machine, walk the dogs, and tidy the house and all before 5am!  Once Sam is away on the school bus, I return to the office to get on with my day job only to be interrupted by the unmistakable drone of Pete’s Land Rover returning down the drive. He enters the office with the usual tales of woe –  “I fell in a bog”; “The tripod leg fell off”; “I got a cracking shot but it’s not sharp.” It’s all very predictable I’m afraid. And then begins the quest for sympathy. “Any chance of a milky coffee and waffles?” What a chancer and I seem to fall for it every time. Do other photographers get away with this? I think not.

So you see rain is a blessing – it means no alarm, no wildebeest and Pete bringing me my Earl Grey in bed (OK that last bit is never going to happen).

I’ve known Andy for a few years and always respected his no-nonsense approach to wildlife photography. I also like the fact he thinks – far too much as it turns out! I recently spent a couple of weeks guiding with him on two of our Winter Wildlife tours (I’d been trying to recruit him as a tour leader for some time but he has over-inflated ideas about his financial worth) and he took the opportunity to remind me of some home truths – more than once. Trouble is, you can get too close to things to see them clearly and hands up, that’s what I’ve done with some of the feeding stations around our base, in particular our red squirrel sites.

So what’s the problem? Well nothing really but let’s face it, a red squirrel sat on a mossy stump has kind of been done. 5 years ago it was fine; today…well you have to move on and that’s what Andy politely pointed out (actually his rather dictatorial tone was far from polite as I recall). Andy’s fresh eyes and fresh ideas have given me a new perspective, a new energy and we’re embarking on a number of improvements to provide visiting guests with new opportunities. These flying/running/jumping squirrels are just the beginning.

So thanks to Andy (and it has to be said other guests too) for making some very helpful and constructive suggestions. We’ve always made a big play on our tours about the opportunity to learn from each other – and here’s a case in point. A good kick up the backside is what I needed and I feel so much better for it!

You can learn more about the enigmatic – and rather rude – Andy Parkinson by listening to my One 2 One interview with him here.

So is it my place to slap the humble readership of this blog around the face and make it feel so guilty about its environmental performance that it feels compelled to go and live in a cave? Of course not. It’s my place to try my best to inspire and send folk away with a nice warm fuzzy feeling – isn’t it? The fact is I’m not sure, and my indecision was crystallised just yesterday.

Chris Packham is writing the foreword to the upcoming 2020VISION book and I’ve just received his draft text. Now I’m a great fan of Chris’ straight-talking pragmatism and I agree with most of what he says. But in this case, I was a tad surprised about his views on the lack of merit in modern conservation, not to mention wildlife photography. I see his point but having read the piece I felt a bit worthless and deflated. In this state of mind am I best placed to go out and do my bit to inspire others? Probably not.

And then this morning, colleague Niall Benvie sent me a raft of material from the very clever people at Futerra, a London-based company committed to creative environmental communication (check them out). Their first document, ’10 rules for communicating sustainability’ centred throughout on positivity, encouragement…even love. Rule 6 says “avoid too much guilt.”

It’s very easy to report bad news and over the years, photographers with a mind to effective communication, have been as guilty as anyone for doing just that. But does it work? Well, for what it’s worth, I think it does…for a while. But in the longer term we become fatigued with guilt and not wanting to carry around such a burden, we simply shed it, block it out.

I’ve got to say I kind of enjoy discussing the sensitive issues that govern our way forward as a species but increasingly, I recognise that I’m perhaps more productive going back to basics and producing (and showing) imagery that make people feel good. This based on the perhaps naive assumption that if we feel good, we’re more likely to do good. At a time when the role of visual communication has never had such an exciting songpost to sing from, it’s critical that as photographers, we pitch our message sensitively and creatively.

And whilst we’re talking about warm, fuzzy feelings, make sure you check out 2020VISION’s daily WOW Factor image here. There’s no message, no agenda, it’s just nice!

When I first considered the Northshots Musk Oxen tour to Norway I was concerned it would be too tough. However, I was desperate to photograph these iconic animals so I convinced myself I had plenty of time to improve my fitness and prepare myself for my biggest challenge yet.  But, as the weeks and months went by and the intended visits to the gym didn’t happen, it dawned on me as our departure grew closer that I should have been a LOT fitter.  I was apprehensive to say the least!  To make matters worse, whilst traveling on the Arctic Odyssey tour a week previously, Niall Benvie mentioned he’d been on a similar trip.  Excellent, the chance for some inside information and hopefully my mind put to rest. “How was it?” I asked.  “Great” he replied “but it nearly killed me”.  At first I thought he was joking but I soon realised he was not – my stomach churned.   This time perhaps I really had bitten off more than I could chew.  However, he went on to explain it was due to the lack of correct clothing rather than fitness.   So, I kitted myself out with some extra warm gear and worked on my mantra “I can do this”.

We all arrived safely in Trondheim, but unfortunately my baggage (with all my nice warm gear) did not.  And, as it became clear that it was not going to be with me until late the next day my apprehension grew – this was not a good start!  However, as we arrived at our destination in the Dovrefjell National Park my concerns were quickly forgotten.   The location was stunning, our accommodation quite unique and luckily for me the Hotel Manager’s daughter was my size!  Bring it on I thought.

This tour is not recommended for the faint hearted.  We had to master walking with snow shoes on snow up to 4 ft deep, endure the extreme cold winds for many hours, climb up long steep hills carrying heavy gear (500mm lens recommended) and be ready and willing to scramble back down again fast if the musk oxen decided they didn’t like the look of us.

I was not used to this extreme environment and therefore pushed to my limit – both physically and mentally.  But, I had absolute faith in our guide Roy Mangersnes who knew this area and the animals well.  With his excellent encouragement, support and leadership the experience was truly amazing and the rewards immense.  To be in such a pristinely beautiful location so close to these awesome animals was special beyond words.

Image: Peter Turnbull

We’ve just come to the end of our Winter Wildlife programme and uneventful as the weather was (in the main), we’ve enjoyed the company of four great groups who adapted to the unseasonal conditions and between them, produced some fantastic images of…wait for it…chaffinches! Yes, yes,  you can mock but just look at these images. Disappointing as it might have been, there’s been very little snow and our guests were left with two choices: wallow in self pity or make the most of things. Universally they chose the latter and good for them.

Image: Charlie Goddard

Selling a photo tour in the Cairngorms on the back of chaffinches is going to be a tough call for anyone but it shouldn’t be. I’d rather have one of these cracking images in my library than a mediocre shot of an osprey or pine marten. Well done to all of our photographer guests for nailing some great shots and for realising that subject rarity is irrelevant when it comes down to it.

Next year we’re planning some changes to our Winter Wildlife programme and we’ll be uploading dates soon. Thanks to everyone who joined us in 2012 – I hope you enjoyed your time spent in the Cairngorms and I hope you enjoyed your time with the wildlife icon that is The Chaffinch.

Image: Cheryl Surry