Caithness; Painting a landscape.

Let me introduce you to this man, George. To me, he is everything good about Caithness. In fact, for a while, he was Caithness.

George’s handsome lined face tells a story and his eyes reflect a bright, shining heart. He is hardy, hospitable and loves a dram..and a blether.

George used to take me out in his boat from Lybster Harbour. George knows the sea, being a retired captain, and he knows the area.

I think it was on these adventures that my eyes were awakened to the true beauty of Caithness. We would glide up and down the coast, never ambling too far from the immense craggy cliffs that fall dramatically into the sea. In the summertime, we would turn off the engine and stop at the bottom. The sound of thousands of sea birds nesting was deafening. We would sit silently and watch a puffin launch itself into flight from the sea. We would saunter past seal pups, white and fluffy, eyeing us curiously. George would point out local landmarks, like the Tinker’s Cove at Forse, which was used as a smuggler’s den and waterfalls that cascade from above into the sea.

George taught me how to haul lobster (or sometimes not!) and how to cook and pick fresh crab. We would catch fresh mackerel with a simple line and then eat it later for tea. He showed me his smokehouse, which he still uses today, and my freezer was always well stocked with our fresh catch.

George would talk and tell me stories, perhaps of characters like Maggie Donn, who used to own the Bayview Hotel and I would soak in his rugged, strong, quiet manner; a serenity exuding from his pores. Hardly surprising in a landscape where the skies seem to stretch for eternity in the vast expanses of peat land.

We would go on adventures too, just the dog and I, searching for mermaid’s caverns or re-tracing the steps of figures of folklore into ruined castle remnants. We’d go on a Pictish trail, unearthing burial chambers and standing stones. I’d go, camera in hand, exploring old, derelict buildings, imaging the lives of the people once living in this ancient land. Every deserted beach has a different feel and a unique appeal. Peedee Sands lying at the foot of Dunnet Head takes a sharp, short climb to get to but is well worth it for the view across Dunnet Bay. Or how about the beach at Duncansby that I call Seal Beach? How could I not after spending an entire evening there, sitting, watching and being watched by seventy seals just off the shore?

Every few miles tells the history of the fishing boom that happened nearly 200 years ago, when thousands of people came to cash in on the Herring boom. Deserted harbours scar the landscape as do the castles that draw you in and envelope you in legend.

And still there’s so much yet to do and places to return to again and again. Every day telling a different story and each moment providing a different painting

And if someone chooses to say to me, “there’s not much up there,” when referring to John O’Groats and the general area, I’ll invite them to dig deeper, scratch under the surface and be prepared to be entranced.