NEW ASGARD
St Abbs | Scottish Borders | Scotland
55.8989° N, 2.1385° W
A Quiet Day in St Abbs
I wasn’t really planning to stop in St Abbs.
I was driving along the Scottish coast with no set destination. Just me, a camera, a flask of coffee, and a bit of time to kill. I’d heard someone say once that it was a filming location for a Marvel movie. I didn’t even remember which one—but I figured, hey, if Hollywood came all the way out here, it might be worth a look.
The sky was heavy when I pulled in. That kind of gray where you can’t really tell what time of day it is. A soft, sleepy kind of light. It matched the feeling of the place. Quiet. Still. Like time slowed down just a bit.
St Abbs is small. Not the kind of place you pass through by accident. The sea surrounds it, and the houses huddle close like they’re trying to stay warm. The streets are narrow. The harbor’s full of ropes, nets, and stacked crab cages that look like they’ve been there forever. A working village, not a polished one. And that’s exactly what pulled me in.
I took out my camera, didn’t even think about it.
Almost right away, something strange and kind of perfect happened. I was crouched near the crab cages, trying to frame a shot, when a pigeon flew past me—right at knee height. Wings wide open, caught in motion just as I pressed the shutter. One of those lucky moments you can’t plan. That photo is one of my favorites from the day.
I kept wandering down by the water. Boats were tied to the dock, barely moving. One boat in particular caught my eye—alone in the pier, everything around it still. It looked like it was waiting for something. Or maybe it was just resting.
Later, I followed a path heading up toward the cliffs and the St Abbs Head Nature Reserve. And just like that—typical Scotland—the weather changed. The clouds started to clear. By the time I reached the top, I was in full-on midday sunshine.
The shift was almost funny. One minute the world looked like an old film, the next it felt like a postcard. The sea stretched out forever. Gulls circled overhead. The cliffs dropped away below me in long, jagged cuts. You could feel the wind coming straight off the ocean.
From up there, I spotted a boat far below. It looked tiny, floating near the rocks. The water was flat, and the scene was almost too clean—like someone had drawn it with a pencil. I took a shot from above. Simple. Quiet. Everything in the right place.
Then there was the house. A lone Victorian home on the hill, sitting proud and peaceful. I only saw it through tall grass waving in the wind. It felt like a dream—the kind of place you imagine as a kid, where someone old and wise lives and tells stories about the sea.
Further along, I found the shoreline. The stones were rough and uneven, worn down over years and storms. The sea kept crashing in steady rhythm, but nothing rushed. I stayed there for a while, taking it all in. Some shots I took fast. Others I slowed the shutter down, let the water blur into something soft and endless. It all depended on the mood of the moment.
That’s how I shoot. I don’t think too much. I just wait until the feeling is right, then I press the button.
What I Saw (and What I Didn’t Expect)
I didn’t expect to feel so connected to a place I’d never thought much about. But St Abbs did that. It didn’t shout for attention. It just let you look around and find your own story in it.
No two places in the village look the same for long. The light changes constantly. One minute everything’s silver and calm. The next, clouds rush in and the sea turns dark and restless. It keeps you honest. Makes you pay attention.
The beauty of it, for me, wasn’t in the big moments. It was in the small ones. The texture of old rope. The quiet shape of a boat from far above. The way tall grass dances in the wind just enough to show you what’s behind it.
None of these shots were planned. I didn’t have a list. I just followed my feet, followed the light.
That’s the kind of photography I love most—the kind that just happens.
Why I’m Sharing These
I don’t make images to decorate. I make them to remember.
But somewhere along the way, people started asking for prints. They’d say, “That photo makes me feel something,” or “I want that feeling in my home.” And that made me realize—maybe this quiet little village wasn’t just a moment for me. Maybe it could be for someone else, too.
So here I am, sharing what I saw that day in St Abbs.
Bring One Home
My personal favorite image from the trip is available in the shop. It’s simple. A single boat resting in calm water, framed from the cliff above. Something about it just holds you. Like time stopped for a second.
But if another photo speaks to you, let me know. I print all my work myself and can custom print any of the images from this day. Big, small, framed, unframed—whatever suits your space.
Just fill out the contact form, and let’s talk. We’ll pick the photo together and get it on your wall the right way.
This isn’t just about prints. It’s about bringing home a little piece of stillness. A little quiet. A little moment from a coastal village where things move slow, and the light always has something to say.
Thanks for coming along with me.
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All images captured in-camera by me on location in St Abbs and St Abbs Head. Custom print requests welcome. Let’s make your wall tell a story.
