The Ardnamurchan peninsula is truly wonderful. It’s a land of extremes and contradictions, and a photographer’s dream. The short Loch Linnhe crossing at Corran Ferry plonks us onto the southern side of this ancient landmass and soon has us pootling along Loch Sunart towards pretty Strontian for lunch and supplies. The Argyll rain that had been battering us all morning gradually gave way to a sunny, benign afternoon.

We stopped at the Otter Hide at Garbh Eilean to watch a pair of young Sea Eagles and a few seals making like bendy bananas on their chosen haul-outs. Magical stuff, apart from the tourist who wanted to take a drone up to film the eagles. They didn’t, after some firm advice from those present. We’d previously arrived here to immediately spot an otter playing and feeding in the kelp by the shore. So close, you could hear the splashes and the munching. The wildlife photographers who had been waiting for days for its appearance commented wryly on our luck.

A Heron fishing at Garbh Eilean Otter Hide

Time was getting on, so we set off for our campsite, right on the banks of the River Shiel near Acharacle. We’re getting pretty slick at setting up camp. To be fair, most of the doing is already done, as the Bongo is now well stocked and organised. For this two-night stay, though, we opted to bring the air awning to give us some extra space to relax and spread out a little.

The kindly campsite owners welcomed us and explained the basics of the very basic, but peaceful, site. They also explained how the eagles were threatening their livelihood. Lambs, and even small dogs, have been taken by the flourishing eagle population. It’s a challenge not dissimilar to the protection of elephants in Botswana. If we want wildlife to flourish, some adjustment in our ways of working, along with compensation for those affected, needs to be considered. Wildlife conservation is rarely quite as simple as wildlife enthusiasts might like to think.

The River Shiel itself is a Special Protection Area and a big old beast; wide, and constantly emptying the massive 20km catchment of Loch Shiel through an impossibly narrow, rocky gap, bridged by Thomas Telford, and then onwards into the sea at Loch Moidart. The water boils and swirls in huge back-eddies. Any fish managing to swim up there when the river is in spate deserves to succeed.

Some anglers were calmly fishing the river outside our camp. Wading chest-deep in a reasonable flow takes confidence and some local knowledge. We wandered downstream to stretch our legs and photograph the bridge, but with light fading, we called it a night and settled down with snacks and wine.

The next day was glorious. Calm and sunny. Fresh enough to make the dash to the loos and showers an invigorating one. Zipping up the connecting snorkel on the awning, we left the tent and drove further down the river to the popular Castle Tioram (or Dorlin Castle, as the locals know it). A bright, sunny morning wasn’t going to make for artistic, atmospheric shots, but it was nice to feel the warmth of the sun as we made our way along the wide, exposed beach in our wellies. The visitors with the drone soon appeared and began to spoil the peace.

Rather than head further along the peninsula to spectacular Sanna Bay and one of our favourite camping spots at Kilchoan, we stayed relatively local and visited the villages and beaches around Kentra Bay. Spectacular sandy beaches, ancient volcanic rocks and views out to the Small Isles of Eigg, Muck and Rùm gave me plenty to shoot. But even here, industrial aquaculture makes its mark at Ardtoe, with a huge waste pipe leading out to sea.

Ardtoe Beach and the Small Isles - Rùm, Eigg and Muck

Relaxing back at the campsite in the evening sunshine, with more wine and more nibbles, we watched the elusive salmon jumping in the river. The sun set and the stags began their guttural, almost prehistoric rut-roaring. Tawny Owls hooted at each other, and the moon and stars shone.

I pondered how much my life had changed from the days of my international jet-setting. Business-class travel, flash hotels in bustling capitals. Chauffeur-driven limos. Pyjamas and neck massages on the plane. Here I sat in my crocs and changing robe, with a fleecy blanket, a smile and a whisky. I know which life I prefer.

An evening strong along the banks of the Shiel

For the journey home on the final day of this Ardnamurchan excursion, we headed north, away from the peninsula towards Arisaig and the beaches along the coastal route to Mallaig. In the right conditions, these stunning wee bays resemble the Caribbean. Not today. It was grey and blowy. The superb and lovely Bill’s Shed café/gift shop/ferry ticket office in the otherwise gritty and industrial marina at Arisaig served the perfect breakfast.

The northern route home takes in Loch Eilt and Glenfinnan. Thousands of tourists scramble for parking spaces, some walking miles, to get a glimpse of the famous viaduct and a steam train that wasn’t even running. It’s a children’s book! It’s not real! Each to their own, of course, but I simply don’t understand how the lure of an imagined history can be so absolutely favoured over our beautiful and very real natural history.

Counterpoints

Oodles of noodles