Glenashdale Falls

When the time came - with some intriguing Arran house viewings already in the bag - my photographic return would take the form of an old, unfinished quest: to somehow view (and photograph) Whiting Bay’s celebrated Glenashdale Falls from directly below. Ironically, I would end up doing the exact opposite!

I’ve previously written about the challenge of accessing the steeply forested Glenashdale gorge, into which the river plunges 150 feet through a pair of spectacular white-water cascades. I’d already attempted scrambling down both the north bank and the south bank, as well as sploshing upstream in a natty pair of fishing waders. This time, I slid and scraped my way down to the section of river immediately above The Cauldron, a deep bubbling recess which had thwarted my progress last May. But alas, the onward terrain remained ominously hazardous. I retreated: at Glenashdale, discretion is usually the better part of valour!

After scrambling back up to re-join our friend Melissa, I settled for a shot looking down across the upper fall from a precarious perch on its lip (one tripod leg being right on the edge!). Mel managed to video me on her mobile phone as I set things up, lost in a wee world of my own as I faffed with the inevitable filters… :-)

”Naughty Paul” by Mel Grenfell
(Play with sound enabled for a real impression of the place!)

Predictably, the resulting composition - my first in five months - was hardly the original masterpiece that I’d aspired to. Nonetheless, it hopefully provides a counterpoint to the well-worn (admittedly iconic) image of Glenashdale Falls from the ready-made viewing platform opposite.

If my image does work at all (I’m not the best judge of that!), then I think it’s on account of the brittle twigs which seem to sprout from the top of the falls, as though clinging on for dear life. At the very least, this humble sprig ensures that the inspiration for the picture’s title - On the Brink - needn’t be the exclusive preserve of the reckless photographer! :-0

Above all, it was lovely to renew my favourite mini-project of 2025… a pictorial tribute to The Waters of Arran.

On the Brink…
A lone sprig of twigs teeters on the edge of Glenashdale Falls

The Fairy Glen

Glenashdale may be the ‘big hitter’ when it comes to Whiting Bay’s countryside walks (and forested falls)… however, it’s far from being the only attraction in town. Although the Fairy Glen is smaller in scale, in some ways this makes it even more photogenic. And in practical terms, its discrete location - tucked away just up the hill behind our holiday cottage at Smiddy Brae - made it ideal for whiling away a grey, rainy morning (in waders!).

Now at this point, let me dispel a myth about weather and landscape photography. Blue skies and bright sunshine may be great for tourist brochures… but for anything more artistic, harsh light is rarely the photographer’s friend. Yes, the above Glenashdale shot does benefit from direct sunlight on the waterfall (and twigs), offering contrast with the darkness beyond. But when in the depths of woodland, confronted with churning white water and bright green foliage, a softer, diffuse light will often lead to more satisfying results.

Also, as I’m generally fond of saying (usually to the annoyance of my long-suffering holiday companions)… the rain is great for topping up those thirsty burns and waterfalls! ;-)

On this particular rainy morning, my soggy explorations of the Fairy Glen led to two distinct compositions (notwithstanding a little experimentation between landscape and portrait views).

The first of these compositions involved scrambling down a side-burn into a rocky gorge, from where I shakily anchored my tripod in the torrent. Just upstream were two tiered waterfalls, which comprised my main subject… while immediately below, the roar of two further falls ensured ongoing vigilance against slips, or ‘falls’ of the more unfortunate kind! :-0

My final composition - the one that I’m presenting below in both vertical and horizontal form - was a little safer of access, although it did still entail some delicate wading up the slippery Smiddy Brae Burn (a.k.a. Allt Ceirde). Mossy tree branches made a nice natural frame for the falls, offset by the fine fragrance of wild garlic… though I couldn’t help thinking that I should return later in the spring, when the latter is in bloom!

On a quick technical note, a further advantage of the overcast conditions was that I could shoot exposure times of around 1 second (to smooth the water) without needing to apply any filters. This meant that I could leave my lens hood attached, which helped keep raindrops off the glass. If only I’d applied such care to keeping everything else dry (myself included)!

Anyway, when shooting such special scenes, technical camera settings are hardly the point. The Fairy Glen is surely more about magic than mechanics… the real trick is just to get out there, soak it all in and enjoy it (come rain or shine)! ;-)

The Fairy Glade (in Portrait and Landscape)…
An energised Smiddy Brae Burn wends its way through the Fairy Glen