Drawn from Nature,
Crafted with Design,
Made with Purpose

There’s a quiet sort of wisdom that comes from walking slowly at golden hour. Not the kind you read in books, but the kind you find when frost crunches under your boots and the light kisses the tops of the hills like it’s saying, “There you are. I was waiting.” I used to think every hike needed a summit or a destination. Now I know some of the best moments come when you stop caring about the finish line and start noticing the little things, the glow on a leaf, the stretch of a shadow, the feeling of just being. Slow hiking taught me that. Or maybe photography did. Either way, it’s worth the cold toes.

There’s a quiet magic to Wales. The kind of magic that doesn’t shout, but hums in the hills, whispers in the valleys, and waits patiently for those willing to pause and see. From Snowdonia’s silver light to the moss-draped ruins of forgotten chapels, I’ve walked and photographed landscapes that feel as old as time itself. Wales taught me not to chase the dramatic but to wait for it. And when it arrives, mist-cloaked and moody, it’s pure storytelling gold through the lens.

Batch editing? Not for me. Sure, it sounds efficient, streamlines the workflow, and cranks out shots like a production line. But photography isn’t a factory. It’s memory, mood, light, and story. Every image I take carries its own moment, and I treat it that way. I’ll use presets as a starting point (I’m not a total rebel), but each frame deserves its own conversation. It’s slower, yes. But thoughtful. Purposeful. And if you’ve ever doubted that your frame-by-frame approach is “too slow,” trust me, you’re not behind. You’re just doing it right.

My camera kit isn’t about hype, trends, or hoarding gadgets like a magpie at a tech convention. It’s been built the honest way, trial, error, and a solid education courtesy of rain-soaked hikes where something inevitably failed and got itself permanently banned from my bag. I started with the Fujifilm X-T3, those glorious retro dials making me feel like a proper old-school photographer (even though I was still figuring out what half the dials actually did). Now I’m running with the Sony A7iv, a full-frame workhorse that doesn’t flinch at sideways rain, low light, or my terrible jokes.

Every bit of gear in my setup reflects how I shoot, not what some excitable YouTuber waving affiliate links tells me I should buy. In this blog, I’ll walk you through why each piece deserves its spot… and which ones got the boot faster than a tripod in a gale.

It started with a stick, a standing stone, and a twirl too many. Meet Squirt: part turtle, part time-traveller, full legend. Read the origin story now.

You wouldn’t know it from the photo alone, but there were three generations on that hill—my father, Squirt, and me behind the lens.

But this wasn’t just a moment for the family photo album.
This was Field Log #049, and Squirt was on high alert.
The castle might’ve been dormant, but something in the mist said otherwise.

There’s a bit of poetry in photography—catching fleeting light, pinning down moments that never really wanted to stay still. But if we’re being honest? Most of the time, it comes down to gear that just works when you need it to. In this post, I’m sharing the tools that have earned their place in my bag. Not because they’re fashionable or have flashy specs, but because they’ve pulled their weight out in the wild. From my Sony A7iv and trusty Sigma lens to the unsung heroes—ND filters, a tripod that doesn’t wobble like a newborn lamb, and yes... Sid the puppet monkey.

Behind every great photo is a bit of curiosity and a lot of learning. In this post, I share the books that have shaped my photography journey — guiding my eye, my planning, and the way I tell stories through light and landscape.

Some photos take years to make. My shot of Eilean Donan Castle began with a childhood memory of Highlander, a frosty morning in Scotland, and the moment everything finally lined up. This is the story behind the image that became the heart of Ruff Draft Studio.