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Hello there
Not before time, we are beginning to get our late 2027 programme together (we wanted to see first what our partners need from us) and there will be more information on this in the next MENUette. For now, we’re glad to introduce our new two-base Retreat (a first for us) that focuses on the East Neuk of Fife and our former home county, Angus, in November 2027. You can read about that below. We have a LOT of experience to draw upon for that one, to help you get the best out of your visit to central Scotland.
On our journey north a few weeks ago for our Islay Retreat, we dropped in at Elmley National Nature Reserve to meet colleague, Rob Canis at the launch of his self-published book, Elmley. From first light to last, In photographic circles, at least, self-publishing nowadays is often synonymous with excellence in content and production values and Rob’s book is no exception. I was just one of a team who helped him in a small way with the project. Read more about the book and watch the video, below - then order! Self-publishing is a huge financial commitment and we can repay the inspiration a book like this gives us by buying one - for much less than the filling up the car. (EV drivers, I know, I know…)
Our best wishes
Charlotte and Niall
Report from our latest Islay Retreat
Every time I visit Islay (and in the last 42 years it must be getting on for 20 times), I find something new to photograph, have new ideas to try or different stories to tell. Islay provides a rich seedbed for the fertile imagination.
This time we were between seasons - the barnacle and white-fronted geese had yet to arrive from the north but summer had flown south. If we had wanted calm, blissful weather in the Hebrides, we could have gone to Coll in June (actually, we did that, too). No, we were ready for something altogether more bracing. More “Atlantic”. We weren’t daunted: there were plenty of distilleries to visit and photograph, if the worst came to the worst.
Team Lobster (photo at bottom of this piece) this trip featured Steve and Lynda, friends from Worcestershire who helped Charlotte in the kitchen (and enjoyed a little bit of down time with her, too). Team Lobster members are invariably interesting people who bring their own stories to the table, as well as making Charlotte’s job a little easier and we were grateful to Steve and Lynda for making the long journey north.
Islay, you may know, is a glorious conjunction of the cultural and the wild: of whisky distilleries, cattle rearing and neat white-washed villages that keep a cautious distance from the wild North Atlantic worrying the island’s coastline ragged. Were you to sail due west, the first landfall you would make is Multa Island, a tiny uninhabited rocky platform off the desolate coast of Labrador,
3287km distant. This truly is an island on the edge.
Before the Retreat, I had hoped to recreate our own version of Casper David Friedrich’s Monk by the Sea, with me taking the role of mendicant (and slightly tormented) monk. Sadly, the light failed us on shoot day so instead we settled for a stooping monk (rather than one raging at the sky) and injected just enough ambiguity into the processing to create some intrigue. Is that a corpulent giant half-buried in the sand, face up, on the right?
Given the number of times we’ve driven along the genteel south east coast, with its distilleries, fallow deer, soggy hazelwoods and grand old lodges screened by rhododendrons, I’m amazed we’ve never noticed the bell in the wood at Lagavulin Distillery before. I’m perhaps over-inclined to equate “incongruous” with “sinister” (hence the treatment of this picture) but the story goes that this is the old Lagavulin church bell. Once the church fell out of use and was deconsecrated, the bell languished in the corner of its graveyard (which was considered bad luck) before Islay Heads (now General Manager of Kilchoman Distillery), gave it a new home on a mound beside his then place of work. It bears the Lagavulin crest.
Our ultimate destination in the south east was Claggain Bay, a long sweeping arc of pebbles just before the public road runs out. Just as we arrived, we were flabbergasted to see a turtle dove feeding at the side of the road. While we are familiar with them at our place in France, to see one here was totally unexpected. It looked like its tail feathers were damaged so perhaps it had been caught up in a storm - or shot at - and blown north while on migration. It had better make friends with the local collared doves as there are none of its kind anywhere nearby.
If life is a slowly rotating gem, these unplanned encounters with unexpected birds have always caught the light for me: a red-backed shrike on our farm in eastern Scotland in 1977; a pectoral sandpiper (a county first!) at Montrose Basin in 1979; a white winged black tern at Balgavies Loch in 1983; a Moussier’s redstart in Tunisia in 1984; a great egret at Tayvallich in 2011; a hawfinch at our garden feeder in 2023; a wryneck on our lane in 2024; a black shouldered kite at Gannay-sur-Loire last winter and a Eurasian roller this summer near Millay. There are many more.
Sometimes when we arrive at Claggain, it is grey and stony-faced and discourages photography. Today, though, it was enjoying the attention of the late afternoon sun and glowed a little for us. Whenever I look at pebbles on a beach, I always recall the Alan Magee painting that illustrated the cover of Barry Lopez’s Crossing Open Ground collection of essay- and how I was enchanted by the elevation of something so ordinary into something that really moved me. Pebbles for heavens sake!! Alan Magee’s is no ordinary talent.
We timed our distillery visit to coincide with some stormy weather and this time chose the island’s only farm distillery, Kilchoman, as our retreat from the weather. It’s a family-owned business and an inspiring example of the pursuit of an idea through thick and thin, starting at a time, 21 years ago, when distilling on Islay was experiencing a slump. Now employing 46 people and with a host of awards for its single malts, the ambition of the operation and dedication to the principle of being an all-Islay product (they grow and malt their own barley) is impressive. And unlike the majority of other Islay distilleries, owned by multinationals such as Suntory, LVMH, Diagio etc,, KIlchoman is a truly native brand.
We always make a point of spending some time with the feral goats on the south side of the island. While circumspect, they nevertheless often allow quite a close approach between sessions of chomping away at what they can find on the sea shore.
Those of you how have followed MENU, then MENUette, for a few years will know that I am very fond of a look brought to perfection by Vincent Munier (most notably in Au Fil des Songes). It involves photographing the subject against brightly backlit clouds, exposing so that all the detail of the clouds is retained then moving the colour balance towards yellow to introduce, depending on the prevailing conditions, a slight sepia tone to the image. This mimics the look of the sky as a thunderstorm approaches, creating something of a menacing mood somehow appropriate to the prospects faced by so many species today.
Given that they are cheek-by-jowl neighbours, the “vibes” of Islay and Jura are unexpectedly different. Jura, divided into seven private “sporting” estates (and with only one resident owner ) doesn’t have the same welcoming feel to it; some of the people who have moved there have yet to learn the art of Hebridean warmth, creating distance through accent or attitude that doesn’t sit comfortably in this setting.
But we didn’t come for the people, specifically, and the light played over the Sound of Islay around the Skervuile Lighthouse and filtered into our favourite abandoned croft house, just as I had hoped. But the red deer, by and large, kept their distance this time.
The best landscape photographs of the Jura actually came from an early morning sortie up the east side of Islay, just as the clouds and low sun dallied with the mountain summits. No doubt they will do so when we return: we’re looking at February 2028 for our next Islay Retreat, with a full compliment of red deer, barnacle and white fronted geese to add into the mix. There might even be a mendicant monk.
We can hardly wait to host our first ever Retreat on my natal territory in the east of Scotland, in November 2027. Specifically, our two-base Retreat will concentrate on the East Neuk of Fife, the Angus coastline between Arbroath and St Cyrus, and the Gannochy Gorge, straddling the Highland Boundary Fault.
The east of Scotland is perhaps not on your radar as a landscape photography destination and indeed, away from the coast, most of the lowlands and the glens have long since had the wildness wrung out of them. Nevertheless, and with the benefit of a few years’ distance, we can clearly see what Angus, as well as the naturally picturesque East Neuk of Fife, has to offer and want to take you to the stand-out locations.
Of the many gorges I’ve visited over the years, the 5km or so of the wooded ravine on the North Esk, upstream from Edzell, remains my favourite - and photographically most productive. We will visit in early November when colour in the beech forest is at its peak. It’s not just the moss and lichen-bedecked tree trunks that enchant, though; it’s the very rock that underlies it all. At the southern end of the trail, we are clearly in the (geological) Lowlands as seen in the Lower Old Red Sandstone and conglomerates from which the gorge, at this stage, is hewn.
But not long after the Rocks of Solitude (where, ironically perhaps, Charlotte and I got married) the underlying rocks suddenly changes to the metamorphic ones associated with the Highlands. Whether your outdoor interests extends into geology or not, that transition, this variety, makes for a visually-rich environment.
The coastline north of Arbroath, as far as Red Head, can reasonably be considered Scotland’s Red Rock Country and here there is a fabulous array of erosional features including (below) the De’il’s Heid (Devil’s Head) and the Needle’s E’e (Needle’s Eye). And the beach I have visited since I was a small child, Auchmithie, yields the most beautiful quartz and jasper pebbles from the conglomerate sandstone cliffs that back it.
The tidal lagoon of Montrose Basin provides a rare opportunity in the east of the country to photograph sunset over water and if we can coincide that with a falling tide, so much the better as the drainage channels in the mudflats are exposed. We can also expect large skeins of pink footed geese: about 20% of the world population winter here.
While the Gannochy Gorge and Angus coastline are wild places, the appeal of the East Neuk of Fife is cultural or, more specially, a place where the wild informs the human environment. With several highly attractive villages close together, there is a lot to photograph without having to travel very far - from follies and light houses, to pan-tiled houses with crow-step gables and seascapes over the Firth of Forth.
This Retreat will collect guests from Edinburgh airport and those of you who wish to take the train to the capital can easily transfer from Edinburgh Waverley, by tram, to the airport. We hope you’ll join us.
Don’t forget that Travels with my cake tins is available now!
The book is a 200 spread (400 page) PDF, running to 63 000 words and including 211 photographs. €25. English language.
This is a bit more substantial than your average ebook and considerably more ambitious than our other ones. In it you will find the story of two people re-making their lives together in their forties through their collective creative endeavours. This is framed in the broader context of people’s relationship with nature and food in the countries we’ve worked in. And, of course, it is a treasure-trove of 66 of the recipes many of you have enjoyed on Retreat with us. It’s nothing if not ambitious in its scope.
Will you support us by buying the ebook from our sister site, benvieart.eu ? The more we move, the stronger our case to put to agents. And the better you will eat 😉
Thank you!
Charlotte and Niall (co-authors, but mainly Charlotte)
As I mentioned in the introduction, we were so pleased recently to meet Rob Canis and his wife, Martina, on the day of the launch of his (their) gorgeous book, Elmley. First light to last. Rob has never been a photographer to seek the limelight, quietly getting on with the job for more than two decades. While he now leads a full programme of wildlife photography trips, he has made time since he was a young boy to visit Elmley, just 10 minutes from home, regularly. That dedication to place and eagerness to spend time with its inhabitants under all sorts of conditions, married with impressive aesthetic sensibilities and rare technical skill has made this remarkable book possible. Along with a patient wife.
The book is inspiring not least because it provides evidence that, even in one of the most densely populated regions of Europe, when we give nature some space, it can thrive. And that provides benefits to people way beyond the readership of this book.
Congratulations to you both. And Rob, Elmley is fortunate to have you as its ambassador.
These scones couldn’t be simpler - and baking them can be safely contracted out to Niall. We normally serve them at breakfast or with mid-morning coffee. When we first moved to France, we searched in vain for self-raising flour. Local plain flour, even with with baking powder (raising agent) added, was just not quite the same as we had been used to in Scotland. While we’re sure that our dream flour is out there, somewhere, for now we use flour mules who bring it to us from the UK .
You will need:
Self-raising flour, 225g (8 oz)
White sugar, 15g (½ oz)
Salt, ½ tsp
Baking powder, ½ tsp
Unsalted butter, 55g (2 oz)
Baking margarine, 28g (1 oz)
Dried cranberries or sultanas, 55g (2 oz)
Egg, 1 large, beaten
Milk, 80ml (2¾ fl oz)
How-to:
Take out an oven rack and preheat the oven to 190°C (170°C fan) [375˚F/ 350˚F] Gas 5.
Put the butter, flour, sugar, salt and baking powder into a food mixer bowl and, with a beater, run it until you have a mix the texture of breadcrumbs. If you use one with a blade instead, leave the dried fruit out until the rest of the mixture is incorporated: you want it to be recognisable.
Break the egg into a small bowl, then add in 80ml (2¾ fl oz) of cold milk. Mix together with a fork.
Swap the beater on the food mixer for a dough hook then, as it turns, trickle in about 50ml (1¾ fl oz) of the mix. Allow that to be taken up by the flour and start to form a large ball of pastry.
If the ball won’t form, add a spoonful of the mix. It will come together quickly so be careful not to add too much. If you do, and end up with a sticky mass, sprinkle in a little bit of additional flour, slowly, until a ball has formed.
On a floured surface, roll out the pastry in a round, about 7mm (¼ in) deep. With a fluted scone cutter of your choice, cut out pieces from the pastry and set on a silicon baking sheet on the oven rack. We prefer smaller scones, so use a 48mm (1⅞ in) one.
Once you’ve used up all the pastry (including the last piece for a misshapen “dogscone”), brush the scones with the rest of the milk and egg mix and transfer the silicon sheet onto the oven rack.
Put the rack and scones in the middle of the oven and bake for about 10 minutes, turning halfway through if the oven doesn’t heat evenly. The scones are ready when they are a rich brown on top and have stopped rising. Take them out and test the dogscone is baked all the way through.
Assuming they are, take them off the silicon sheet and leave them to cool a little on a rack before serving with strawberry or raspberry jam and butter or cream. You decide which sequence you like it in.
And if Bruno Griffon-Bassett has been well-behaved, he gets the dogscone.
NOW you can hear me - in-van amplification
Making myself heard in the minibus on Retreats has always been a challenge, especially with, eh, highly gregarious groups. I love to see everyone getting along but equally, sometimes I really have to tell you something!
This combination solves the problem: a Røde Wireless Go mike (front left) and receiver (right) paired with a Soundcore Motion + speaker. The benefit of this speaker over many others is that it has a 3.5mm jack socket, allowing me to connect the Røde receiver directly. There is enough inherent gain without the need for an additional pre-amp - so long as the volume is kept quite high. The speaker is placed on the rear parcel shelf of the mini-bus, facing forward. Since the two Røde devices communicate by a 2.4 GHz digital radio link, there is not the lag time associated with Bluetooth so my lip-sync is perfect! I clip the mike with a magnet on to my collar and become the Voice of the Van.
A word of warning to other users: the effective range of this radio mike extends well-beyond the limits of the van. If exit while still miked-up just remember that ANYTHING you say will be relayed back to your now-attentive audience. I’d suggest muttering something like, “I can’t believe how LUCKY I am with this group” and refrain from expressing any form of frustration.😉
Our winter 2026 and
2027 Chez-nous brochures
Whether you’d like to visit us with a friend, with a partner or even by yourself, it’s always worth dropping us a line to check on availability. Sometimes weeks not listed in the brochures open up.
Please click on a picture to see the brochure.
Do have a look at our 2027 Chez-nous brochures If you want to progress your photography - and be treated like kings and queens - there really is nothing else like it. Let’s have a Zoom call to see what we can do for you.
Bonus footage: Time and changing perspectives
This was one of many spoof signs I created and photographed almost two decades ago to comment on our individual and collective attitudes to wild nature. They made some people smile but changed absolutely nothing.
At the time I shot this sign, I was clearly feeling exercised about rights of access to private land and wanting to have a go at curmudgeonly landowners unwilling to share their space.
And now? Well, the curse of Insta-Fame visited upon certain locations, especially wild ones, is one we wouldn’t wish on any of our favourite places. The wise photographer who discovers a new one quietly deletes the files’ EXIF containing GPS data and introduces a little mis-direction in the caption. It’s all for the good of the place, after all.
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Many thanks,
Our best wishes, Charlotte and Niall
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