A small boat floats on calm water, seen from a high cliff with blurred grassy edges in the foreground. The black and white image emphasizes the vastness of the sea and the solitude of the boat under a moody sky.

A Quiet Stop in St Abbs

I didn’t plan to stop in St Abbs.

I was driving through the Scottish east coast with no big goal in mind. Just me, my camera, and a flask of coffee. The kind of day where you just go where the road wants to take you.

I think someone once told me St Abbs was in a Marvel movie. Didn’t remember which one. Didn’t matter. I just figured, if a movie crew came all the way out here, there must be something worth seeing.

The sky was heavy when I got there. That soft, grey kind of light where everything feels quiet. Like time moves slower. It matched the mood perfectly.

St Abbs is small. You don’t just pass through it by accident. It sits right on the coast, kind of tucked into the rocks. Houses are packed close together. The harbor’s filled with nets and ropes and old crab cages. Nothing feels staged. It’s a working village, not a tourist one.

I got out and took my camera. Didn’t even think about it. Just felt right.

Right away, I got lucky. I was crouched near the crab cages, lining up a shot, when a pigeon flew right past me—close, fast. I clicked the shutter by instinct. Caught it mid-flight. That ended up being one of my favorite shots from the whole day.

I kept walking around the harbor. Boats were tied up, barely moving. One small boat caught my eye. It was just sitting there, still, like it was waiting for something. The water around it was so calm. I took a photo from above, later on from the cliffs. It felt peaceful. Balanced.

Square-format black and white photo of a solitary house perched on a coastal cliff, partially obscured by tall windswept grass under a soft, overcast sky.
Square black and white photo of a rugged cliff edge overlooking a vast, tranquil sea horizon with subtle tonal gradients and minimal detail.
A black and white architectural image of a harbor station with strong linear forms and overcast skies, emphasizing functional design in a minimal palette.

St Abbs Head and Lighthouse

Eventually I found a path going up toward the cliffs. I followed it. Typical Scotland—halfway up, the clouds started to break. Sun came out. Light totally changed.

Up at the top, everything looked different. Blue sky, open sea, jagged cliffs falling away. It looked like a different day. I stood there for a while. Just taking it in. Let the wind hit my face. It felt clean.

Far below I saw that same boat again. From that high up, it looked tiny. Floating in a flat sea, near the rocks. I took a shot—simple, clean. Not much in the frame. Just space. Quiet space.

Later on, walking further along the cliffs, I saw a house. A single old Victorian one, up on the hill. I only saw it through the tall grass. Wind was blowing the grass around, so it moved like waves. That house felt like something out of a dream. Like the kind of place someone might live who tells stories by the fire.

The beach down below had rough stones. The waves came in steady, not fast. Just a rhythm. I stayed there for a while. Took a few photos fast. Then slowed the shutter down and let the water blur a bit. Sometimes that works better. Just depends on the mood.

That’s how I shoot, really. I don’t overthink it. I just go with what feels right. If the light’s good, or the moment feels still, I press the button.

Looking back, I didn’t expect much from St Abbs. But it kind of pulled me in. It didn’t shout. It just let me wander. Let me find my own story there.

Every part of the village felt like it had its own rhythm. The light kept changing. One minute everything was silver and soft. The next, dark clouds rolled in and the sea looked almost black. You had to stay present. Couldn’t just zone out.

The photos I came back with weren’t big, dramatic scenes. They were small things. A boat in still water. A rope left on the dock. Grass moving just enough to show a shape behind it.

That’s the kind of photography I love. The kind that just happens when you slow down and look.

Monochrome square-format image of stacked lobster pots with strong texture contrast, captured mid-movement with a pigeon in flight.
Monochrome square image of a narrow coastal road in St Abbs marked “Murrayfield,” with stone buildings and a distant sea horizon under heavy clouds—evoking stillness and geometric framing.
A candid black and white image of a coastal village, partially obscured by lobster creels in the foreground—adding layered depth and mystery.
Black and white square photo of a mooring bollard with coiled rope on weathered concrete, emphasizing texture, form, and industrial simplicity by the water’s edge.

Why I’m Sharing This

People sometimes ask me why I take photos like these. I don’t shoot to decorate. I shoot to remember.

But over time, folks started asking for prints. They’d say, “This makes me feel calm,” or “I want that stillness on my wall.” That surprised me. But in a good way.

So now, I share more of these stories. And prints too.

If one of the photos from St Abbs speaks to you, let me know. My favorite from the trip is that quiet boat photo—taken from above, all alone on the water. Feels like time stopped for a second. That one’s in the shop now. But any photo you see here can be printed. Big, small, framed, whatever fits your space.

I do all the printing myself. Every detail is handled with care. It’s not just a product. It’s a memory. Something you can hang up and feel every time you look at it.

Thanks for reading. Thanks for coming along with me on this little trip.

Hope the photos give you the same quiet feeling they gave me.

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All images taken by me, in camera, on location at St Abbs and the cliffs around it. All prints can be made custom. Get in touch if one catches your eye.

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