3 weeks after we lost our son, we went to stay with some friends who have a small house in a remote corner of the outer hebrides. it has no electricity or phone signal and is only accessible by boat.
With hindsight it was a ridiculous plan, but seemed to make sense at the time.
After two plane journeys and a long drive, we set off in their boat on a rough sea at night. When we finally arrived we, and all our belongings, were soaked and frozen.
We stayed there a few days, in an isolated bubble of friendship and love. Just walking, talking, eating, drinking and reminiscing.
Being early January the weather was foul, and it rained almost constantly.
On one day the weather cleared a little and I set off on my own for a days hike. I met no one. These photos were taken during that day,
3 weeks after my son’s death, while thinking of him and the happy times he had spent in the area.
At the time I had no idea where I was headed or why I was even taking photographs.
Looking back I suppose it was just a clumsy attempt to capture my utter grief on film