A land on the edge of darkness

Vagastie, Sutherland This gaping landscape is a peculiar purgatory between mountain and moor, here and somewhere else. People call it the empty quarter. But empty it is not

Near winter's solstice, the sun doesn't rise far here. It grasps above the skyline, then slinks the southern mountains in a tired arc, like a sentry pacing a watch-wall. During its six-and-a-half-hour march its light barely flickers the vast sky's threshold. Darkness always seems close.

In the rafters of Scotland, this gaping landscape is a peculiar purgatory between mountain and moor, here and somewhere else. Distant peaks, mirages of other places, prowl its perimeter as if pulled apart to make it. People call it the empty quarter. But empty it is not.