The Lakes

Long before the era of podcasts, social media and the digital noise of modern life, I spent endless days fishing these waters with my father and brother. As a small boy the vast expanse of the lakes felt almost oceanic. When dusk began to fall, the boat that had seemed a sturdy ark during the day would suddenly feel small and vulnerable as evening gathered around us.Those days were filled with adventure.

Fifteen years ago we returned to the lakes to celebrate my father’s eightieth birthday. Once again we spent the day fishing, and ended it on one of the remote islands, sharing a picnic and a glass of whisky while reminiscing about earlier times. Precious memories of days gone by in a landscape that seems largely unchanged for centuries.

Nearly fifty years after my childhood adventures there, I returned once more to explore the margins of the lakes.This time I was not in pursuit of the wild speckled brown trout that inhabit these waters. Instead I came with the intention of making photographs – pictures that might rekindle those early memories and capture something of the quiet mystique of this deeply cherished place.

Although the lakes are celebrated worldwide for their sweeping vistas and wooded shorelines, it was the glacially sculpted rock formations – lying half-submerged along the margins – that captured my imagination. These primordial forms, shaped by ancient ice and water, seemed almost like prehistoric creatures resting beneath the surface. Ever since those childhood days, the lakes have carried an otherworldly quality for me.

My interpretation of them may not be a traditional one, yet the images that follow reflect a deeply personal and intimate connection with this remarkable landscape.