It’s fascinating to me that a raindrop falling on the East side of Ben Lomond’s summit will trickle, tumble and glide its way 45 miles across Scotland’s central belt into the North Sea down the River Forth. If it fell on the other, westerly side it would end up in a much steeper drop into Loch Lomond then out into the Clyde Estuary and the Atlantic in less than 17 miles.
One evening a few years ago I found myself unexpectedly retracing that raindrop’s journey, following the haar that had drifted in to Edinburgh from the east coast, just to see how far it would get.
My photographic mission had me chasing it west from Edinburgh up the Forth valley to Aberfoyle in the Trossachs, only 20m above sea level. They do say that if it’s a high tide AND heavy rain in the west that Aberfoyle is much more prone to flooding, even though the river is only 40ft wide here.
At Lake of Menteith I had drawn level with the haar and caught a sunrise shot, just as the cloud wafted through. The race was on to try and get above the advancing tide and into the highest bluebell fields of Aberfoyle Golf Club. Barely above the cloud I watched as the cloud swept through the village, filled the valley basin of Loch Ard, and lapped at the feet of Ben Lomond.
As the sun shone through the trees it cast a fogbow onto the bluebell covered hillside - it was a fitting finale to a journey that started at sunset the evening before. I’d driven south from Edinburgh to try and get above the cloud but all I could see to the north, was cows and clouds.
Haar presents rare gifts and magical moments for a photographer. Get above it at just the right time and the scene can be breathtakingly beautiful. Capturing those moments has become a bit of an obsession. While everyone in Edinburgh moans when the haar sweeps in, I tend to get a wee bit excited, lace up my walking boots, and get as high as I can.
This time was a wee bit too late and the view over the city from Arthur’s Seat showed no sign of the hustle and bustle below.
On a different evening sunset vista I could see from a field in Midlothian that most of the city was obscured by the haar except for the iconic castle and my favourite haar viewpoint, Arthur’s Seat. I jumped back in the car and back into Edinburgh. It might just be the perfect moment.
Walking up through the foggy darkness on Arthur’s Seat the cloud lowly began to thin until the clear twilight sky could be seen overhead. Climbing higher my heart raced a little faster as the scene of Edinburgh Castle with the spire and the haar-swept crags opened in front of me. I barely had time to get my camera on the tripod and take a few shots before the whole city had disappeared beneath the glaur. I was both frustrated and elated - so good, but gone so quickly.
When people ask why I bother wheezing up hills in the dark and the damp…again…and again…I just show them this image.
It took a few years and many failed attempts - although perhaps half-successful attempts is a better description. There is always something learned on an image-making mission, and often too a sense of your soul being gently massaged. This time was a full head-to-toe experience, swedish probably.
This won’t be the last haar images I’ll show you - my obsession is pretty ingrained. To finish off here’s a view of the city INSIDE the haar - with Greyfriars Bobby - Edinburgh’s favourite wee dug. Maybe I’ll make Haar - Part 2 a view from inside. Stay tuned for more and do share with your pals if you’re enjoying things. See you out there.
Beautiful images Tom.
I totally understand your love of these conditions, they are my favourite too. There is nothing more beautiful than a still morning with mist and sunrise colours. The only trouble I have in Suffolk is that it is very flat, so I cannot get above the mist and get the range of shots you have captured.
I look forward to reading Haar - Part 2.
Amazing images - wish we got some haar here in Sydney-we occasionally get fog, but nothing quite so moody as that