A perfect morning on the remote Scottish bay Maxwell made his refuge for the last ten or so years of his life. Elsewhere, he paints the darker side of the climate, with its capacity to fly into a fury in minutes. But here, he enjoys a moment of gentle perfection.

‘All the magic of Camusfe√†rna was fixed in that morning; the wheeling, silver-shouldered flight of the geese as they passed to alight ahead of us; the long, lifting, blue swell of the sea among the skerries and the sea tangle; the little rivers of froth and crystal that spilled back from the rocks as each smooth wave sucked back and left them bare.’¬†

Source: Gavin Maxwell, Ring of Bright Water (London: Penguin, 1974), p. 196

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