Cape Wrath, Sunrise.

Sandwood bay exists away from modernity, a disorientating four-mile walk across a rough and sometimes broken moorland path before the beach comes into view. It is landscape seemingly without limit, a real wilderness. You have to intend to get to here. The land beyond to the north truly wild, unsettled, the last of mainland Britain, the hinterland of Cape Wrath, a kind of moorland sea, swelling and falling, desolate, without focus.

The Cape itself exerts strange force, the end of the land, the edge; it can be seen nudging purposefully in the distance, inviting further exploration, its name suggestive of danger and peril, the lure of the North.