Caithness Coastline Project: Slow Work, Big Skies, and the Long Game
Caithness Coastline Project: Slow Work, Big Skies, and the Long Game
Hello folks,
I wanted to share a little behind-the-scenes on a personal project I’ve been chipping away at: photographing the Caithness coastline.
It’s one of those ideas that sounds simple on paper — “photograph the coast” —, but in reality it’s a proper long game. Caithness isn’t just one look or one mood. It shifts every few miles. One minute you’ve got jagged rock shelves and wild texture, the next it’s softer curves, quiet bays, and huge open skies that make you feel tiny in the best possible way.
The truth is, it’s time-consuming — and that’s the point.
This project isn’t something I can rush, and I wouldn’t want to. Between weddings, commercial work, and the usual day-to-day, I’m fitting in trips when I can. Some visits are only a couple of hours. Sometimes I’m scouting and making notes more than shooting. Other days, I’ll come home with a handful of frames that feel like they belong to the bigger story.
This project isn’t something I can rush, and I wouldn’t want to. Between weddings, commercial work, and the usual day-to-day, I’m fitting in trips when I can. Some visits are only a couple of hours. Sometimes I’m scouting and making notes more than shooting. Other days, I’ll come home with a handful of frames that feel like they belong to the bigger story.
Light is the real boss up there.
Caithness can be bright and flat, dramatic and stormy, or beautifully soft — all in the same afternoon. The challenge is that the photographs I’m after rely on the right light meeting the correct location at the right time. Returning to places again and again, to waiting for those little windows in the weather where everything falls into place: the sun breaking through cloud, side light skimming across rock texture, or a tide that reveals shapes you’d never see otherwise.
Caithness can be bright and flat, dramatic and stormy, or beautifully soft — all in the same afternoon. The challenge is that the photographs I’m after rely on the right light meeting the correct location at the right time. Returning to places again and again, to waiting for those little windows in the weather where everything falls into place: the sun breaking through cloud, side light skimming across rock texture, or a tide that reveals shapes you’d never see otherwise.
It’s the kind of work that asks for patience. And a bit of stubbornness.
And here’s the wee bit that links it back to weddings, because it genuinely does.
When I’m out on the coast chasing those short windows of good light, it's the same as a Highland wedding day. Light changes fast, weather does what it wants, and you’ve got to stay calm and make something beautiful anyway. The more I’m out in it, the quicker I get at reading light, finding shelter, spotting a clean background, and choosing locations that look great without turning the day into a photoshoot.
It’s also why I’m such a believer in keeping portraits simple. When the light is right, you don’t need big poses or forced moments — you need a bit of space, a good spot, and a steady hand. That’s the same approach I bring to weddings across the Highlands and north of Scotland: mostly documentary, then a short, relaxed portrait window when it makes sense.
Why keep going? Because it’ll be worth it.
There’s something special about building a body of work over time — not just collecting “nice photos”, but creating a set of images that feel connected. A project that has its own rhythm. Its own atmosphere. A proper visual love letter to a coastline that’s raw, honest, and endlessly photogenic if you give it the time it deserves.
There’s something special about building a body of work over time — not just collecting “nice photos”, but creating a set of images that feel connected. A project that has its own rhythm. Its own atmosphere. A proper visual love letter to a coastline that’s raw, honest, and endlessly photogenic if you give it the time it deserves.
I plan to keep photographing it steadily, season by season, until the collection feels complete. When it’s ready, I’d love to present the final series together — as a cohesive set — rather than letting it disappear into the scroll of single images.
If you’ve been following along, thank you. And if you’ve got a favourite stretch of Caithness coast you think I should spend time on, hit reply and tell me — I’m always up for discovering a new angle, a new viewpoint, or a hidden spot I’ve not explored yet.
And if you’re planning a Highland wedding and it’s that outdoorsy, big-sky feel — the kind of photos that look like Scotland felt on the day — that’s precisely what I’m building towards with work like this.
Mike
Fitlike Photography
Fitlike Photography
Quick Q&A
- What is the Caithness Coastline Project? A long-term series photographing the Caithness coast in changing seasons, tides, and light.
- Will there be prints? Yes — I’ll share new releases as they’re ready, and the full set once the series feels complete.
- Do you bring this style into Highland weddings? Absolutely. The same eye for light, weather, and location is what shapes my wedding photography, too.
