The Drive to Cullen and Basecamp Ed

As hard as it was leaving the lighthouse, it was time to head to home base for the next few days: Cullen and Ed’s place.

A significant chunk of the four-hour journey was pure single-track tarmac. Even with all of Ed’s road savvy, having to stay completely “on” for that long must have been an absolute white-knuckle mental workout. For the first two hours, the roads were either single track or narrow enough to shave your mirrors. Put me behind that wheel, and it easily turns into a six-hour trek leaving permanent white-knuckle dents crushed into the steering column.

Having Ed as my personal chauffeur is an absolute godsend—how else could I ride shotgun snapping pictures out the window like a kid on safari? In truth, I’m thoroughly blessed. When I started plotting a massive, no-compromises photo adventure as a retirement treat to myself, I flirted with Iceland, New Zealand, Patagonia, and Alaska. But ultimately, my partner-in-crime Ed sealed the deal. His dedication and laser focus on crafting the ultimate photography itinerary made anywhere else pale by comparison. Plus, beyond the endless shutter-clicking, it promised to be pure unadulterated fun. More on the yin and yang of Naguib and Ed shortly.

Naturally, taking on this kind of trip meant Donna stayed safely behind, mostly to preserve our marriage and ensure I returned in one piece. Bless her heart, she has put in fifty-two years of waiting for me in cars, hotel lobbies, and on freezing trails while I fussed over lighting. This sort of breakneck camera boot camp would simply not have been her cup of tea.

Ed really struck gold when he planted roots here. Cullen is a gorgeous, quaint coastal village perched on the north coast of Scotland, and geographically it hits the absolute sweet spot. You get a sheltered harbour, an expansive sandy beach, and charming seaside cottages running along the sea wall, capped off with a welcoming local high street, a dramatic viaduct, and a lovely hilltop neighbourhood. There are trails tracing the shore, even a local pet cemetery, and while it feels safely removed from the roar of Edinburgh and Glasgow, it’s still right on the doorstep of prime Highland scenery and coastal history.

The house itself is something of an architectural adventure. It has expanded organically over time; my quarters, for example, were once the garage. Today, it’s practically its own self-contained suite—warm, quiet, and wonderfully comfortable. The property sits perched on a hill right beside the viaduct (which, if you ask me, has far more charm than its famous cousin at Glenfinnan). From the two massive windows in the study, you gaze straight out across the hillside, the viaduct arches, Cullen village, and the bay. Have I mentioned the view is spectacular? Because it truly is.

Inside and out, the layout runs across split levels with staircases darting every which way. Even though this is my second stay here and I usually pride myself on my sense of direction, I still find myself pausing mid-step to remember which door leads where. I once made the mistake of trying to casually “walk around the outside” of the property. Rookie error—the hillside had other ideas! Stepping out from the converted suite lands you right at the level of the hot tub and outdoor lounge. A few stone steps down bring you to the main garden terrace, which features a container garden, a workshop, a dome, and the infamous “Scuttlebutt Lodge.”

Speaking of which, I had a good chuckle trying to dig up the original reference to Scuttlebutt Lodge from the old Red Fisher Show. When I searched Google Maps, an actual "Scuttlebutt Lodge Sports Club" popped up right on the map. Naturally, it was pinned straight to Ed’s house. That is Ed in a nutshell: irreverent, hilarious, quick-witted, and running at the speed of light.

For those of you who haven’t had the privilege of meeting him, Ed is all of the above, carries a memory like a steel trap, and if you are his friend, will move mountains on your behalf. There are simply too many examples of his everyday generosity to count; in that sense, he often reminds me of my late mother. Growing up, I couldn't casually admire something in a storefront window without finding it wrapped up for me the next week. When Donna and I visited two years back, Donna offhandedly mentioned to me that our daughter had been hoping for a Nessie salt-and-pepper shaker. We struck out along Loch Ness, but when we pulled up to Ed’s front door, there was a pair sitting on the counter waiting for us. Ed had overheard the conversation, fired up his beloved Amazon UK account, and considered the mission accomplished. (Rest assured, I am keeping my mouth firmly shut about the $15,000 Sony 800mm lens I’ve been drooling over.)

He is also the ultimate expedition partner: giving me just enough rope to wander into minor trouble, but always standing by to haul me back out. Take the recent quicksand scare, for instance. He also insisted I install the What3Words navigation app before we set out, which proved to be an absolute lifesaver out along the coastal lighthouse cliffs when he pinged me his precise location so I could track him down on the trail.

Honestly, I could easily spend a fortnight exploring Cullen alone. The photographic bounty is ridiculous: rugged sea stacks, crashing waves, nesting seabirds, and historic stone cottages. I find myself slipping out three or four times a day just for quick mini-shoots. Yesterday, we even pushed out aboard Wee Eddy—his boat—to catch an angle on Bow Fiddle Rock from the water, which to my eye looks remarkably like a stone elephant taking a dip, though what do I know! And just this morning, while Ed gallantly braved the rain on a grocery run so I wouldn’t lose shooting time, I headed down past the pet cemetery to the headland hunting for shots of diving gannets. I bagged a couple of decent frames, but the quest for that perfect mid-air dive continues.

Right now, we are both back at our screens editing like madmen to get images, clips, and stories prepped for you all. Rain days like today definitely make for productive darkroom shifts. We love sharing the adventure with our friends, family, and neighbours, so feel free to pass along the posts and links.