Landscape mountain scotland
756 creative works found
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Looking along the shore of Loch Rannoch with water playing over rocks in the foreground, a dead tree and Schiehallion in the far distance.
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Just as I was driving back through Glen Coe, I saw this lovely shaft of light hitting a band of rain. Thirty seconds later I got wet. The mountains in this one are Beinn mhic Chasgaig and Beinn Ceitlein, just along from the turn-off to Glen Etive.
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This is near the end of Loch Carron in the Scottish Highlands and was a beautiful day in September. We found huge ripe blackberries on bushes near here – yummy!
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This was taken in September in Glen Torridon, Wester Ross, Scotland. It looks like snow on the mountain tops but is actually white quartzite rock.
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On the west coast of the Isle of Skye, the sea Loch Coruisk nestles within the semi-circle of the Cuillin Mountains. Canon A640 compact camera
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The stump of an old fir tree overlooking Loch Shiel with The Five Sisters of Kintail as a backdrop. View the rest of our portfolio here Or visit our own website here
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This is the same lake as in Golden Reeds but looking in the opposite direction
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Topped with a crest of crumbling white quartzite rock, Beinn Eighe often appears to have snow on top even in summer. It is surrounded by the Beinn Eighe nature reserve and includes some areas of ancient Caledonian pine forest.
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The Black Mount in the Highlands of Scotland.
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This photo was taken at Loch Leven at Glen Coe. As an experiment I’ve tried being a little artistic in Photoshop (just subtle touches). I’m not sure how well it works so please feel free to leave feedback,good or bad. The Pap of Glencoe (Scottish Gaelic: Sgurr na Cìche) is a mountain on the northern side of Glen Coe, in the Highlands of Scotland. It lies at the western end of the Aonach Eagach ridge, directly above the point where the River Coe enters Loch Leven. Loch Leven (Scottish Gaelic: Loch Lìobhann) is a fresh water loch in Perth and Kinross council area, central Scotland.
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The view looking over Loch Torridon. See extra large image here Loch Torridon (Scottish Gaelic: “Loch Thoirbheartan”) is a sea loch on the west coast of Scotland in the Northwest Highlands. Torridon village lies at the head of the loch and is surrounded by the spectacular Torridon Hills. The loch is a glacial sea loch around 15 miles (25 km) long. To the north are the villages of Redpoint, Craig, Diabeg (Where the film Loch Ness was filmed), Wester Alligin and Alligin Shuas. To the south is Shieldaig. Loch Torridon is an important prawn and shellfish fishery and the Loch itself is also home to several salmon farms and industrial mussel production. Canon 40D 18 -55 IS
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The Old Man Of Storr A famous land mark on the Isle of Skye which can be seen from as far away as Portree this rocky outcrop dominates the sky line for miles around. / When we started the walk the sun was shining and it was a beautiful calm day but by the time we reached this height the weather has changed as it so often does on the west coast of the UK and heavy clouds came over blocking the sun and threatening rain.Fortunately this didn’t last too long but did give a rather dramatic look to this craggy landscape
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Part of a small mountain range in Aberdeenshire.
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The Other Face of Ben Nevis
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Looking towards the Aonach Eagach from below Buachaille-Etive-Beag, Glen Coe Scotland.
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An eagle overlooking Loch Lomond with Loch Long in the distance, Argyll, Scotland, UK.
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The last rays of sun kiss goodnight to the mountain tops. / The last warmth of a cold Winter’s day, reflected in an icy Loch Slapin, a magical moment ! Shot on a Canon EOS 40D. Mounted on a tripod. f16, 1/4 sec. Cloudy wb. iso 100. RAW file processed in Photoshop CS3 FEATURED IN / http://www.redbubble.com/groups/islands-of-the-world
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This shot was taken from Ballachulish and shows Loch Leven and the Pap of Glencoe on the right side. The Pap of Glencoe (Scottish Gaelic: Sgurr na Cìche) is a mountain on the northern side of Glen Coe, in the Highlands of Scotland. It lies at the western end of the Aonach Eagach ridge, directly above the point where the River Coe enters Loch Leven. The Pap has a distinctive conical shape particularly when viewed from the west, and forms part of the “classic” view of the entrance to Glen Coe. Nikon D60 = f/11, 1/250sec, ISO-100, 42mm THIS IMAGE IS BEST VIEWED LARGE
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Cullins, Skye, Hebrides, Scotland. / / Words on the First Death. A Prayer for Alexion. It ended in the cold apparently. With drum and pipe and the English priest complaining. A message would be sent with the Eagle. They all knew but no one mentioned. The age of enlightenment was here after all below the Glen. The clearances changed the immediate world from the rattle coughing of the old , to the sheep bleating of the young and the stone slow righteous anger of the mountain. All combined richly in one death. / How did I consider the role I apparently played? Was I known in her life? Am I indeed in this story of immortality’s promises? Was there a need for me then as there is a special need for her in my concious attempts to play the minor notes first? / Conventions and commitments show their dangerous and rude parts whatever the history . The only true courage is to face up to our failings with something like glee and rejoice we are no worse, or indeed no better. This was the only pure truth of those puberty dreams that I invented in my illness. There is no bravery if it is the only thing you can do. Afterwards, never come again until she said just now and now, Come to Me. / Alexion died in the cold and lonely just as she the first one I loved and loved me with those same bright eyes. With her went the choice of relating the ghost story of this failing throughout my ages. / The sleet cut the mountain slabs and the large wings beat slowly against a wind that was change intangible. Lifting into a changing complex sky. Predator died ignominiously with carrion poison. Eggs shattered and were collected for enlightenment under the revolution industry glass. The rest of us became impotent with it. Even as we earned no better than was deserved. The English priest’s insistant complaining was heard in the vaulted industrial halls of an Albion no one recognised, understood or wished for. In the shooting breaks of the not so common, the peat whiskey was drunk and renounced regularly. / In this future memory the red salmon river flowed forever over its silk falling. The Blackcock stood occasionally King of his own castle and the Eagle found there were not enough to continue. The wildcat and falcon hid until I discovered them in books given away as academic prizes. Finally going in search of these pathways that led to where she once nearly lived and finally lost, flew away. © 2009 Ken Simm.
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Cullins, Skye, Hebrides, Scotland. / /
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Red Cullins, Skye, Scotland. / / / Words on the First Death. A Prayer for Alexion. It ended in the cold apparently. With drum and pipe and the English priest complaining. A message would be sent with the Eagle. They all knew but no one mentioned. The age of enlightenment was here after all below the Glen. The clearances changed the immediate world from the coughing of the old , the sheep bleating of the young and the righteous anger of the mountain. All combined richly in one death. / How did I consider the role I apparently played? Was I known in her life? Was there a need for me then as there is a special need for her in my concious attempts to play the minor notes first? / Conventions and commitments show their dangerous parts whatever the history . The only true courage is to face up to our failings and rejoice we are no worse, or indeed no better. This was the only pure truth of those puberty dreams that I invented in my illness. Never come again until she said just now and now, Come to Me. / Alexion died in the cold and lonely just as she the first one I loved and loved me with those same bright eyes. With her went the choice of relating the ghost story of this failing throughout my ages. / The sleet cut the mountain slabs and the large wings beat against a wind that was change intangible. Predator died ignominiously with carrion poison. Eggs shattered and were collected for enlightenment under the revolution industry glass. The rest of us became impotent with it. The English priest’s complaining was heard in the vaulted industrial halls of an Albion no one recognised, understood or wished for. In the shooting breaks of the not so common, the peat whiskey was drunk and renounced regularly. / In this future memory the red salmon river flowed forever over its falling. The Blackcock stood occasionally King of its own castle and the Eagle found there were not enough to continue. The wildcat hid until I discovered it in books given away as academic prizes. Finally going in search of these pathways that led to where she once nearly lived and finally lost, flew away.
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Cullins, Skye, Hebrides, Scotland. / / Humming the song through a feather in the mists of time. Mountains belonging to the sea. This could be a concept to consider once I get up there panting and wheezing. / Near, down from here is a fiord and a whaling station, blood on the sea. A slip way and a chimney that flourished because of soap men and no one seems ready to demolish. / Mountains above the sea, each reflected and sinking into deep. The whiskey beach is white and the waves are the colour of that car you used to have. A tennis court on a hillside with a mountain hare trapped inside surreal Ernst fencing. An island of rockets and asbestos. / Black Cock on little bonsai mountain lek attracting females; for the life of me I cannot think why they would be temptation impressed. Stag antler roaring and digging the mud, hanging like suicides from a bullish rough neck. Mist and mellow nonsense red with fly agaric poison and other wonderful words that sting the lips and deaden the mouth. / Mountains expecting the sea. Blue and grey multiple, Ariel, perspectives. Giving what they have in storms, to get it taken away anyway. A beach is a retired mountain wheezy whispering softly to its youth. Breeching and whale carving into dust. / The higher I go when depressions set in, the wetter I get. Now is that not something? Go higher to feel lower. My feet are wet in my old boots but I could care less. I’m still looking for old ghosts now on the knife edge and precipice. Go higher and bag all the top Monroes you can. / Pewter lake mirrors below and steaming mist rising from the streaming morning. A hag of peat that becomes difficult and them impossible causing a turn around much like some women. Saying one thing to the world, or at least this small part of it, and meaning another. / I would like to give up but I cannot. If I remember all this with clarity then I can draw when I am rested. In black pen so make no mistake I will make no mistakes. / The Ptarmigan are chirring and you can hear the wind through eagle pinion. A strange deer, not native, barks at me in disgust. Whatever am I to do with you? It says, you come to these mountain islands and get as far away from the sea, upwards as you can. As if that made sense. I thought getting high meant some other things from the past. / The last of the insects call from out the heather and the butterfly dies above it allowing its powdered power to settle gracefully upon your stretched out mind. Eerie eyrie’s sit on clefts covered in painted white marks that advertise death before winter. A fire in the distance disturbs the cause, because it is not alone and that is really how this works. The act of climbing a mountain is changed succinctly and dramatically by the act of observing the climb. / She left me and I left you and they are now together on this rather crowded emotional peak on a lie detector line. What shall we do if not hum the ending song said Sandy Denny in my ears.
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The longest cold snap in thirty years ! / An already wonderful landscape enhanced by snow. / f22, 1/8 sec, iso 100, Auto WB, polariser filter, CANON EOS50D mounted on tripod, .....RAW file.. / just regular curves and levels adjustments in CS4!!
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