Category: Photos on a theme

After a summer of almost unprecedented beauty, day after day of blue sky and warm temperatures, Scotland is getting its karmic retribution in January. We have had steadily wet, grey, cold, windy weather for most of this month. Some days are colder than others, some windier, and some have been icy, but almost all have been dreary, and while Scotland of course has its reputation for weather, this is extreme. Extremely bad.

But, sometimes grey weather can lead to a silver lining, of sorts – in fact, I have a real affection for storms, for big roiling clouds that turn all sorts of blues and yellows and greys and blacks as bad weather approaches. (Not that we are getting those now, which is part of the problem, just endless cloud with no variation). So, in honour of this truly unpleasant January, I thought it might be worth pulling together some of my favourite stormy sky pictures from over the years – both with dramatic clouds and the grey skies that create atmosphere, particularly here in Scotland.

I feel I should observe that when I went through my pictures to select some for this post, I ended up with more than 90 that I liked – the ones I include here are a choice selection. I feel this indicates both Scotland’s prevalence for overcast (perpetuating the stereotype), but more my own passion for stormy skies, and the increased likelihood that I will scurry out the door with my phone or camera to catch a dark sky.

Guardbridge

It seemed most appropriate to start closer to home, with two of the views I photograph most often – the bridge at the north end of Guardbridge, and the view across the Eden Estuary towards St Andrews.

The bridge picture was taken in the spring, with roiling clouds twisting and turning in light that was at times black, at times yellow. Similarly, the light in the view over the Eden is a mixture of silvery grey and yellow, though it was taken in the depth of winter. In fact, it was February 2021, the iciest month we have had in some years, and deep in the heart of the pandemic lockdown. My daily walk was my lifeline to nature, to the outside world, and it was so poignant to look across to the town where I should have been working and spending most of my time.

Tayport

As I have mentioned before, we spent the earliest months of the covid pandemic living in Tayport, and our view over the Tay provided the opportunity to watch some truly epic storms.

The group below includes a yellow-orange storm light that I just loved and the sunny blue with the storm clouds drifting away towards the ocean. The last of the three is the one I had at least 20 versions of: a purple-black cloud over the far shore, topped by fluffy white. Visually stunning and fascinating to watch.

The two below were taken on the same day, a few minutes apart, and remain two of my favourite storm pictures. The first because you can still see the benevolent blue sky above the white and then purple clouds, and the second for its view out to sea and how lonely and small the Larick Beacon looks against the dark.

St Andrews and East Neuk

Living and working right on the coast allows for some of the best stormy sky pictures, and while St Andrews is often considered a bubble with its own weather, it does not escape dramatic clouds.

The castle picture here was taken in February 2018, and the distant clouds are remnants of the first wave of the Beast from the East, an epic snow storm that shut Scotland down for several days. I managed to get into work on the Wednesday and pick up a laptop, but had to leave early to get home before the bus service stopped. The cathedral ruin shot comes from May 2021, on one of my few days in the office as the University slowly re-opened, while the Market Street shot is just over a year later, with plenty of people happily wandering the town and hoping they do not get rained on.

My more recent walking efforts along the Fife Coastal Path have been fortunate enough to be mostly sunny, but a few dark and stormy days have been on the cards. My walk to Anstruther ended with me cowering under a bus shelter as the storm clouds opened, while a preparatory walk along West Sands was equally in danger of ending in rain.

Isle of SkyE

Dad and I were so lucky on one of our trips to Skye to be favoured with spectacular weather; the second visit was less fortunate, and we had a few good squalls come through to dampen our hiking.

I love the wide open fields of sheep you see on Skye, and I thought this view of a cloudy day was perhaps more appropriate than a sunny alternative. Likewise, the intermittent rain we experienced while attempting to climb the Old Man of Storr allowed for very atmospheric shots across the Skye coastline. Finally, while it is only just visible, if you zoom into the smaller grassy picture, you will spot evidence of a Highland native peeking over the hill.

HighLands and Perthshire

I fight hard both in my posts and in my work to stifle the stories that Scotland is a wet, cold, rainy place. Or at least, that it is ALWAYS wet, cold and rainy. That said, Fort William is on the rainier west coast, and the winter months do bring in a fair amount of doom and gloom.

The further north you go, the more dramatic the pictures. These two were taken of and from (respectively) the Nevis Range; one on a wintry afternoon and one on an otherwise sunny day, where the clouds closed in higher up. The view of Nevis Range with snow and half in the clouds was partly our inspiration for hoping to retire up north.

On the same day as the first picture above was taken, we ventured out along the A830 to Glenfinnan, seeing as we could not really go hiking. While I would have loved to capture the monument, viaduct and views of Loch Shiel in sunlight (and did several years later), the cloaking mist and rain were again quite atmospheric. One can just imagine ships emerging from the haze, heading for the end of the loch, where the monument now stands – filled with huddling, cold soldiers ready for a fight.

And hey, Glenfinnan Viaduct looks pretty incredible in any weather.

Puerto Rico and the South

The Caribbean is known far more for its sunny weather than for its storms, but no one living there would deny that the heat of the ocean creates for some amazingly awful weather. The pictures below include one dark cloud rolling over the Vieques sound, and then two beach pictures that were taken shortly before I was required to hide (mostly fruitlessly) beneath some trees during a downpour of rain.

In fact, some of the heaviest rainstorms I have experienced have not been in Scotland, but instead in Puerto Rico and in Florida. On my most recent trip to Orlando, I was driving on the highway in a storm so powerful it almost blinded me – not something I wish to experience again.

My love for thunderstorms comes I am sure from summers on the boat, watching storms pass by under the knowledge – assured by my father – that other boats would be hit before us. We spent more than a few summer evenings huddled just under an awning, watching storms race across Marblehead harbour or the lake in Canada.

Approaching storms

In fact, sometimes the most exhilarating storms are the ones you have been able to see coming from a distance. I find that anticipation, that slow transition from a sunny day to an ever dark one, fascinating. The wind often picks up, and you can smell the rain coming even before it hits you. So here are a few of my favourite distant rain pictures, including Fife farmland, a Puerto Rican mountain, the Beast from the East over St Andrews Bay, and a stunning pink sunset rainstorm.

Monuments under clouds

To wrap up this post of a love story to cloudy skies, I thought it would be fun to include some views of castles and monuments. Like in the Highlands, a sunny sky might be most desired when capturing special locations, but a dramatic sky is the next best thing. It is certainly never boring.

Balvaird Castle, on a windy day when the weather changed almost constantly. The clouds blew past at an alarming rate, though fortunately for me, as I stayed dry.

And finally, the pièce de résistance, a dramatic location in any weather, but even more moving with great dark clouds: Stonehenge. When we visited, we were allowed to wander up quite close to the monument, almost close enough to touch the stones. Like few other famous places, Stonehenge did not disappoint – it was mysterious, spiritual (and I am not a particularly spiritual person) and an incredible touchstone to thousands of years of history.

It sure would be nice to see it in the sun someday.