Pete Scullion ventures out to the western fringe of Scotland, ready to sleep under the stars on a remote beach. But he didn’t count on life-threatening weather. Will he tough it out? Or make it work?
Words & Photography pete scullion
The phrase ‘West is best’ is one to which I have subscribed for many a year, and this outing into Scotland’s west coast could not have supported that theory better. While an icy wind was bringing winter storms from Russia, giving the Met Office its first-ever red weather alert for snow, the shore overlooking Muck, Eigg and Rum was bathed in the warm glow of a February sun. With the Beast from the East looming, what better way to fly in the face of the usual tabloid hyperbole than to head to a beach in the West Highlands for a wild camp?
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