…Then they headed up to Eoropie on the tip of Lewis. Exposed to the pure anger of the north Atlantic, it was bigger and offshore again, and, of course, no one in.
‘So we totally score cos the chart was still reading nothing! Imagine going there on a swell? There soooo many spots. All those mountains and sheer cliffs, it’s a bit like Norway. Just crazy beautiful and so much potential and it doesn’t get dark. I went surfing at midnight.’
The evening has weathered silver like aging cedar shingles and the smoked pearl moon is rising even if the sun refuses to leave. It’s so often the case that the photographers don’t get to surf but this far north there’s no such thing as too dark.
‘The boys are like “Are you going in?” Leashing up Nick paddles out through the mercurial waters. The Atlantic lifts and peaks, monochrome and benign, he scratches in and slides across the moon shadow back to the Viking shore.