My friend Steve lives just south of Aberdeen and Stonehaven in the tiny Scottish seaside village of Catterline, Scotland.
One of my favorite places to eat is the Creel Inn, Catterline. It's a 200 year old inn with great food and a fine selection of real ales.
After a significant conversation about literature, philosophy, and being-in-the-world, and after a fine lunch at the Creel Inn washed down with a winter ale, we set out on a walk down to Catterline Cove in a bitter, biting 33f degree driving wind.
The cold wind drove zephyrs across the cove.
Only a handful of fishing boats go out from Catterline Harbour any more . . . mostly to supply the tables of the Creel Inn.
The old Catterline Harbour jetty.
Bitingly cold, and blindingly beautiful.
A rugged North Sea coast spreads north from Catterline.
It was odd lighting: a dark cloud coming from the west, full of snow, darkened the foreground while an early setting winter sun lit tall clouds out across the North Sea.
A fisherman's cottage below the Catterline cliffs.
The old fisherman's cottage had a fine weathered red door.
Fisherman's cottage wall detail.
The old boat winch, lost in the weeds.
We walked back up the hill in the fading winter light.
Steve's old fisherman's cottage, up on the cliffs above the North Sea.