My Apex Adventure on the Isle of Mull
If you haven't read the first part of this adventure, where I spent some long-overdue time with my brother exploring the Lake District, you can catch up here: The Lake District: A Long Overdue Adventure. I'd recommend giving that one a read first, as this story picks up pretty much where it left off.
After a few days in the Lakes, I'd made my way to the Isle of Mull for five days with Apex Adventures, with very little on the agenda beyond wildlife photography. Exactly the sort of responsibility I could get used to.
Mull had been on my radar for years. The prospect of photographing otters, white-tailed eagles and some of Scotland's remarkable wildlife was more than enough to get me excited. We'd already had a glimpse of what the island had to offer during our first evening, but now we had several days ahead of us to explore properly.
I'd be spending that time with Mike, Andy and Phil, and while I knew there would be plenty of wildlife to look for, I hadn't quite appreciated how the next few days would unfold. There would be long hours watching the shoreline, some frustrating moments with my camera equipment, unexpected discoveries and, inevitably, plenty of laughs along the way.
The search begins
Our first proper morning on Mull saw us heading back to the area where we'd spotted an otter the previous evening. We'd had only a distant glimpse, so the plan was to spend a little more time exploring the shoreline, work out the best places to position ourselves and, hopefully, find an otter willing to make a closer appearance.
I also had something new to help with the search: a pair of image-stabilised binoculars from KITE Optics, courtesy of Mike and his sponsors. I must say, these things are impressive. Even from a moving vehicle on Mull's narrow coastal roads, the stabilisation made it surprisingly easy to pick out and identify birds and other wildlife. They quickly became an important part of my kit, usually in hand whenever my camera wasn't.
As soon as my financial situation allows, I'll definitely be investing in a pair myself. Unless, of course, KITE Optics happen to have a spare pair knocking around that they don't need. It's always worth asking!
We spent a few hours scanning the shoreline and eventually found the otter we'd seen the previous evening. Unfortunately, it had other ideas. It had settled down for a rather lengthy nap on an island in the middle of the loch, well beyond photographic range. Close, but no cigar.
That would become something of a theme over the next few days. We'd spot an otter, work out where it might come ashore, get ourselves into position and settle down to wait. Sometimes that meant lying in the kelp for hours, creeping along the shoreline when the otter disappeared beneath the water, then finding somewhere else to settle when it resurfaced.
Just when you thought you might be in with a chance, it would change direction, disappear altogether or pop up somewhere completely different. The otters were clearly running the show, and we were just there to follow instructions. This was by no means as easy as I had imagined!
We had some great encounters, but getting the photographs I wanted was proving rather more difficult. Still, there was plenty to appreciate beyond the search for otters.
One of the things I enjoy about spending time with other wildlife photographers is being surrounded by people who appreciate the same things you do. You can spend an hour watching a bird, discussing its behaviour, debating camera settings or simply taking in the landscape without having to explain why you're so interested in something that most people might walk straight past. It's a shared enthusiasm, and it makes even the quieter moments worthwhile.
I was also struck by just how peaceful Mull felt. The roads were quiet, the scenery seemed to stretch on forever and there was a real sense of space. It's difficult to appreciate the scale of a place until you're actually there. In some areas, the human presence feels relatively small, and the wildlife has room to go about its business.
That was something I found particularly striking. Seeing so much wildlife in a landscape that felt relatively untouched made me appreciate the importance of giving nature space. The less we interfere with it, the better the chance wildlife has to thrive. It's a simple thing, but spending time somewhere like Mull really brings it home.
There was plenty of other wildlife to keep us occupied, too. One of the highlights that morning was a turnstone, while several plovers were busy running along the beach. They were going about their business, seemingly unconcerned by our presence, and provided a welcome change of subject while the otters kept their distance.
A different perspective
It was also during these early outings that I got to know Phil properly. An ex-headteacher and board member of the Badger Trust, he had an impressive knowledge of the natural world, along with what seemed to be an inexhaustible supply of snacks.
The snacks were good, but it was his enthusiasm and willingness to share what he knew that really stood out. Before long, we'd acquired our very own Dr Phil. His knowledge was impressive, but more importantly, he had a knack for explaining things in a way that was interesting, understandable and easy to remember. There's a difference between knowing a lot about something and being able to pass that knowledge on. Phil had both qualities. I imagine he was a brilliant teacher.
One of my favourite little lessons came along the shoreline when we started looking more closely at the seaweed. We'd initially been referring to it all as kelp, but Phil helped us identify the genus Fucus, a group of seaweeds commonly found around rocky shores.
Once we started looking properly, it was surprising how much variation there was in the colours and textures. From yellow and brown tones to almost black, the seaweed against the wet rocks made for some interesting photographic details.
It's easy to overlook things when you're focused on finding a particular animal. We'd travelled to Mull looking for otters and eagles, but thanks to Phil, we were also learning about seaweed, lichen and all sorts of other things along the way.
The weather had been fairly dramatic throughout the day, with low mist rolling over the hills and an atmosphere that made the landscape feel wonderfully wild. It wasn't exactly beach weather, but photographically I loved it. The soft, shifting light moving across the mountains gave everything a different feel. I could understand why people describe the Scottish Highlands as one of our last great wildernesses.
We'd also managed to squeeze in our first boat trip, with multiple white-tailed eagle sightings adding to an already busy day. Seeing these birds in their natural environment is always a privilege, and having several sightings so early in the trip was a great start.
By the time we headed back to the accommodation, we'd spent a full day outdoors, seen a good variety of wildlife and had plenty to talk about. There was still a lot of Mull left to explore, and I was already looking forward to what the next day might bring.
The day the wildlife gods tested my patience
The next morning started early, and I was beginning to suspect my body was filing a formal complaint about the lack of sleep. I was also coming down with a rather inconvenient case of man flu, which was absolutely not what I'd ordered for five days of wildlife photography.
We headed towards a location Mike had a good feeling about, hoping for another chance with the otters. We spotted one in the distance almost immediately, but once again it wasn't close enough for the photographs we were after. We carried on exploring and eventually found a female otter who had been nicknamed Stumpy.
For roughly two hours, we watched and waited, hoping she'd give us a better opportunity. She wasn't particularly interested in cooperating.
At this point, I was beginning to wonder whether I'd somehow offended the wildlife gods.
We did have a great moment when we spotted a white-tailed eagle perched in a tree. Unfortunately, before I could get the photographs I wanted, it took flight. I missed out on the perched shots, but watching it launch from the tree and head out across the loch was a spectacle in itself. You don't get too many opportunities to watch a bird like that, so I wasn't going to complain too much.
Dr Phil also came to the rescue by turning our attention to the lichen growing nearby. He explained how certain types of lichen are particularly sensitive to air pollution, meaning their presence and abundance can be used as an indicator of air quality. It's a fascinating way of reading the environment, and another little detail I'd probably have walked straight past without him pointing it out.
That's one of the unexpected benefits of spending time outdoors with people who know their stuff. Even when the wildlife doesn't play ball, there's always something else to discover. You start paying attention to the smaller details, and the landscape becomes much more than just the backdrop to whatever animal you're hoping to photograph.
After a quick walk along the shoreline, we jumped back into the car to continue the search. Then, finally, something happened that should have made the day one of my best wildlife photography experiences ever. And I really do mean should have.
We found an otter with her young kit, and the encounter that followed was exactly what we'd been hoping for. Watching a mother and kit together in the wild is a privilege, and we were fortunate enough to witness some lovely behaviour. After all the searching and waiting, this was a proper opportunity.
There was just one small problem.
As I lifted the viewfinder to my eye, I couldn't see a thing through the lens.
My Nikon 600mm had finally decided it had had enough of this particular adventure. Despite having been out in torrential rain for the best part of six hours, I'd had the rain cover on all morning, so I was completely baffled. It turned out that internal fog had built up on the front element, leaving me with a camera and lens that were suddenly about as useful as a particularly expensive paperweight.
There I was, watching one of the most incredible otter encounters I'd experienced, with absolutely no way of photographing it properly. I could feel the internal rage building. When you've travelled all that way, spent hours waiting and finally found the wildlife you've been hoping for, equipment failure is about the last thing you want to deal with.
I did at least manage to record some video on my phone, which was better than nothing, but it wasn't quite the result I'd imagined when I set off for Mull.
Andy came to the rescue and lent me a teleconverter to use with my 70-200mm, giving me a chance to get back into position and salvage something from the encounter. Absolute legend. Unfortunately, despite our best efforts, the photographs still weren't coming together. I eventually had to accept that this particular opportunity wasn't going to produce the set of images I'd hoped for.
I was gutted.
After all the excitement, the waiting and the sheer frustration of the lens failure, I needed a break. We stopped at the Old Post Office for coffee and cake, which cheered me up no end. We had a laugh about my misfortune, looked through the photographs the others had managed to capture and relived the encounter using the video I'd recorded on my phone.
It wasn't quite the photographic result I'd wanted, but at least I had something to remember it by. And, as it turned out, there was a rather embarrassing explanation for the whole thing.
I didn't work out exactly what had happened until the following day. After around seven hours in the torrential Scottish rain, we'd moved between otter locations and I'd put the camera and lens on the dashboard of the van. The combination of the cold equipment and the heat from the van's heaters caused the front element to warm up far too quickly, resulting in a huge build-up of internal fog. The lens was completely unusable until it had dried out.
So, not a mysterious technical failure after all. Entirely my own fault.
What a knob.
Anyway, lesson learned. No need for the lens to "accidentally" fall down the stairs.
Back to the story. After our stop at the Old Post Office (highly recommended, by the way), we carried on towards Eagle Valley, where we spotted stonechats and another familiar sight on Mull: a buzzard we'd nicknamed Eddie. Eddie Buzzard. My humour isn't for everyone.
We also encountered a rather interesting stretch of road where a landslide had affected the route. It made for a slightly more eventful journey back than we'd anticipated, but thankfully we got through without any drama.
Back at the accommodation, we tucked into beef bourguignon and mashed potato, expertly prepared by Chef Phelps. Exactly the sort of meal needed after a long day outdoors. The evening was spent editing photographs, chatting about the day's encounters and laughing about the things that had gone wrong.
Even with the camera disaster, it had been quite a day. At least I had the phone footage, and a lesson I wouldn't be forgetting in a hurry.
A different perspective from the Lady Jayne
After the previous day's exertions, the man flu and my ongoing battle with the camera equipment, a slightly more relaxed start was very welcome. We had a bit of a lie-in, and I fuelled up with a triple-decker bacon, sausage and egg sandwich that could probably have fed a small family.
I was taking my recovery seriously.
The plan was to head out on our second wildlife-watching trip aboard the Lady Jayne, giving us another opportunity to see some of the island's incredible wildlife. It turned out to be a very good decision.
We had three separate encounters with white-tailed eagles during the trip, seeing a total of five birds. Being out on the water gave us a fantastic perspective, and it was brilliant to watch these impressive birds in their natural habitat. After the previous day's disappointment with the eagle perched in the tree, I was rather pleased to have another opportunity to photograph them.
There was also a very important member of the crew in the form of Monty the dog, who seemed perfectly happy to be part of the adventure. It's always a bonus when a wildlife trip comes with a dog.
The boat trip was a real highlight, and I was fortunate enough to borrow Mike's 400mm f/2.8 lens. After the previous day's technical disaster, it was a welcome change to be working with some different equipment, and the results were brilliant. I came away with some photographs I was genuinely pleased with.
There's something rather satisfying about getting a good set of images after a frustrating day. Normally, for me, there's a week between those experiences, not a single day! And after the previous day's lens disaster, I was particularly grateful to Mike for trusting me with his 400mm. Thanks mate :)
After returning to shore, we headed back to the accommodation for lunch and a chance to look through the morning's photographs. I wasn't feeling particularly creative, thanks to the lingering man flu and a few days of early starts, so I took things a little more slowly before heading back out in the afternoon.
Of course, the otters were still very much on the agenda. I couldn't leave Mull without a photograph of an otter. That would have been otterly ridiculous.
Sorry. I'll get my coat.
We spent a few hours looking again, and predictably, the first one we found managed to disappear before we could get into position. We found it again, only for it to vanish once more. At this point, I was beginning to think the otters were deliberately keeping a tally.
Otters: 4 Phil, Andy & Mike: 1 Adam: 0
I wasn't having the best of luck, was I?
We'd also had a brief encounter with a hen harrier, which was a welcome bonus. We spotted Eddie the buzzard again and checked the other side of the loch, but there wasn't much else happening.
We stopped at a waterfall so the others could try out some long-exposure photography. On the way back around the loch, we spotted a heron, and I managed to get down to water level for a few photographs. It was a different perspective from much of the day's photography and made a nice change.
Back at the house, we settled into the now-familiar routine of looking through photographs and chatting about the day's sightings. The otters were still making us work for every opportunity, but I was beginning to wonder how many more mornings we'd spend searching before I finally got the photographs I wanted.
As it turned out, I wouldn't have to wait much longer.
Five days in, and finally, Fang!
We were up at 6am and out of the door by seven, with a severe weather warning forecast for later in the day. This was our final full day on Mull, and with the long drive home waiting for me the following morning, I was running out of opportunities to get the otter photographs I'd travelled here hoping for.
After several days of frustratingly brief encounters, I was determined to make the most of whatever the morning had in store for us.
We headed back towards an area we'd explored previously, hoping that a change in timing might make all the difference.
And this time, it did.
We located Fang, an otter we'd been keeping an eye out for. For around half an hour, we watched him hunting just off the shoreline, following his movements and trying to work out where he might eventually come ashore.
When he did, he was a little too far away for the photographs I wanted. Another encounter that was wonderful to watch, but not quite the opportunity I'd been hoping for.
So we stayed put, kept watching and hoped he'd come a little closer.
Then, finally, everything fell into place.
Fang emerged close to where we'd been sitting, giving us the chance to photograph him properly. After five days of searching, missed opportunities and fighting with my camera equipment, I was finally getting the sort of encounter I'd travelled to Mull for.
If Fang hadn't appeared, I'd have been leaving the island the next morning without the otter photographs I'd spent the entire trip trying to capture. So when he came ashore less than thirty feet from us, the relief was enormous. Not only was I finally getting the photographs I'd hoped for, but my equipment was actually working this time!
I lowered myself onto the black rocks, keeping as still and unobtrusive as possible. The dark surroundings helped us blend in, and Fang seemed completely relaxed. For around twenty minutes, we watched him go about his business: grooming himself, drinking fresh water and tucking into a crab.
He was entirely at ease, seemingly unconcerned by our presence. We weren't interfering with his behaviour or trying to encourage him closer. He'd simply chosen to come ashore right in front of us.
Five days of searching, and I'd finally got there. Talk about leaving it late!
Once I'd got over the initial excitement of finally getting the shots, I found myself paying less attention to the camera and more to what was happening in front of me.
There's something extraordinary about being so close to a completely wild animal, watching it go about its life without a care in the world. The photographs were everything I'd hoped for, but being able to observe Fang's behaviour at such close quarters was what really made the encounter special.
Honestly, even if I hadn't taken a single photograph, I'd happily relive those twenty minutes over and over again. Although, after five days of trying, I'm rather glad I did!
Since I properly began my wildlife photography journey in 2023, this has been my best wildlife encounter. I've been fortunate enough to witness some remarkable things, but Fang will take some beating.
Whether it's a mallard or a white-tailed eagle, I think every wildlife encounter deserves the same level of respect and admiration. We're incredibly fortunate to observe these animals simply getting on with their lives, and it's something I never want to take for granted.
Fang certainly gave me an experience I'll never forget.
Naturally, the only sensible thing to do afterwards was celebrate with a coffee, cake and a sausage roll at the Old Post Office.
The coffee and cake were very welcome, but the sausage roll deserves a special mention because it was, without question, the best sausage roll I've ever eaten.
I appreciate that's quite a bold statement, but I'm prepared to stand by it.
With the otter photographs finally in the bag, the morning had already been a success. Unfortunately, the weather forecast was about to make itself known.
We took a drive around the island, passing through Eagle Valley, but the conditions had taken a turn for the worse and wildlife sightings became few and far between. We eventually came across a roadblock of Highland cows, which gave us an excuse to get out of the car and take some photographs in the increasingly moody conditions.
The cows seemed entirely unbothered by the weather, and the dark skies and wet landscape made for a rather good set of photographs.
We continued around the island, stopping to eat lunch in the car and hoping the worst of the weather might pass. It didn't.
We did manage to spot a greenshank landing nearby, which was a nice little bonus, but for the most part the conditions had put an end to our plans for the afternoon.
Eventually, we headed back to the accommodation to relax for a while. The others got stuck into editing their photographs, while I took the opportunity to write up my notes for this very blog.
It seemed sensible to get some of the details down while everything was still fresh in my mind, rather than relying on my memory to piece the whole adventure together weeks later.
Which is generally how I create these blogs: weeks after the actual event. I'm not exactly known for being ahead of schedule!
The evening, however, was one we were all looking forward to.
We headed into Tobermory for dinner, visiting The Gallery, a restaurant and bar set inside a converted former church overlooking the harbour. It was an unusual setting, with the building's original architecture giving the place plenty of character. The pizzas were excellent, too, which is always a good start.
With the weather having brought our photography to an early finish, it was a good opportunity to sit down, enjoy some food and look back over the previous five days.
We talked about the wildlife we'd encountered, the photographs we'd managed to capture and, inevitably, the ones that had got away. There were a few stories worth revisiting, particularly some of my less successful moments.
Tomorrow we'd be heading our separate ways, but for now there was one final evening on Mull to enjoy.
One last ferry and the long drive home
And just like that, our five days on Mull had come to an end.
After spending most of the previous day battling the weather, it was time to pack everything away, say goodbye to the island and begin the rather lengthy journey back to Essex.
We left the accommodation at around 8:45am to catch the 9:15am ferry. We'd originally booked the midday sailing, but managed to get ourselves onto the earlier one. Given the amount of driving ahead, I certainly wasn't going to complain about getting a few hours back.
Mike was staying in Scotland for another week, so this was where our little group would begin to go their separate ways. After five days of early mornings, questionable weather, wildlife encounters and a fair amount of taking the piss out of one another, it felt strange knowing the adventure was over.
We made our way back across the water, and by around 10am we were on the mainland.
Now came the less glamorous part of wildlife photography: getting home.
A long drive gives you plenty of time to replay the highlights, and I kept coming back to that final morning with Fang. I'd certainly made hard work of getting those photographs.
The journey took me back through Scotland and eventually onto the A66, with a few phone calls to my brother and friends helping to pass the time.
There was also a packet of biscuits involved. I can't remember exactly how many survived the journey, but I suspect the answer isn't particularly impressive.
By the time I finally arrived home at around 8pm, more than eleven hours after leaving the accommodation, I was absolutely exhausted.
The camera equipment needed unpacking, the photographs needed sorting and there was a mountain of editing waiting for me. None of that was happening immediately.
In fact, I spent the next couple of days recovering.
Apparently, five days of early starts, long hours outdoors, very little rest and a generous helping of man flu had finally caught up with me.
Would I do it all again?
Without hesitation.
Was it worth it?
Absolutely.
I'd wanted to visit Mull for years, largely because of its reputation for wildlife, and it certainly didn't disappoint.
White-tailed eagles, otters, hen harriers and an impressive variety of other species had kept us entertained throughout the trip. Even when the wildlife wasn't cooperating, there was always something to look for, somewhere new to explore or a landscape worth stopping to appreciate.
And then, of course, there was Fang.
Those twenty minutes with Fang, after everything that had gone wrong along the way, were worth every bit of effort.
But looking back, the photographs are only part of what made Mull such a good adventure.
I've always enjoyed heading out alone with my camera. There's something about being outdoors, away from the noise of everyday life, with nothing to worry about beyond the wildlife in front of you. I wouldn't want to lose that.
But trips like this have reminded me how much fun there is to be had sharing those experiences with other people who understand the obsession.
I already knew Mike, but Mull gave me the chance to get to know Andy and Phil properly.
One thing I particularly liked about Andy was his approach to photography. He wasn't taking photographs with Instagram or social media in mind. He was doing it for himself and his family.
In a world where so much of photography seems to revolve around posting, engagement and numbers, I found that quite refreshing.
He was also incredibly generous when my equipment decided to give up at precisely the wrong moment, lending me gear without hesitation. It's something I really appreciated, particularly from someone I'd only just met.
And then there's Dr Phil.
His knowledge of the natural world made for some fascinating conversations, although I think we can safely say I came away knowing considerably more about seaweed and lichens than I'd expected when booking a wildlife photography trip.
Perhaps the best example of how these adventures can lead to unexpected friendships came after we'd returned home.
By complete coincidence, Phil and I discovered that we'd both booked onto the same wildlife adventure to Botswana in 2027.
We've even booked our flights together.
So, as it turns out, Mull won't be our last adventure.
And I don't think you need to travel halfway around the world to find those experiences, either.
We're fortunate to have some extraordinary wildlife right here in the UK. From the birds visiting our gardens to the otters along Scotland's coastline, there's an enormous amount to discover if we're willing to put in the time and make the effort.
Not every outing will produce the photographs you want. Sometimes the weather will be against you, sometimes the wildlife won't appear, and occasionally your camera equipment will decide to make life unnecessarily difficult.
Believe me, I know.
But that's part of it. The unpredictability is what makes those moments when everything finally comes together so rewarding.
A proper thank you to Apex Adventures
Before I wrap things up, I want to give a proper shout-out to Mike Phelps, Adam Jukes and Apex Adventures.
I've been fortunate enough to join Mike on a few adventures now, and I've also had the pleasure of meeting Adam, the co-owner of Apex Adventures, and heading out on a few mini adventures with him too.
They're both genuinely brilliant blokes who share a real passion for wildlife and photography, and I think that enthusiasm comes through in what they're building with Apex.
There's a reason I keep coming back.
What I particularly appreciate is that these trips aren't simply about getting you in front of wildlife, taking a few photographs and moving on to the next location. There's time to observe, learn, experiment with your photography and, perhaps most importantly, enjoy being out in nature.
Mull was a perfect example of that. We had some fantastic encounters, a few frustrating moments and plenty of laughs along the way. Mike's knowledge of the island and its wildlife helped us make the most of our time there, even when the weather or the animals had other ideas.
There's also something to be said for having someone else take care of the planning and logistics, leaving you free to concentrate on the photography. Particularly when you're exploring somewhere unfamiliar, with no idea what wildlife the next bend in the road might reveal.
If you've been thinking about booking a wildlife photography adventure, I'd genuinely encourage you to have a look at Apex Adventures - https://www.apex-adventures.co.uk/europe
Whether you're hoping to photograph a particular species, explore somewhere new or simply spend a few days with people who share your enthusiasm for wildlife, it's well worth considering.
Mike and Adam, if you're reading this, thank you. I really appreciate what you're doing with Apex, and I'm looking forward to seeing where you take it next. Hopefully, I'll be joining you for a few more adventures along the way.
Until the next adventure
For years, Mull was somewhere I talked about visiting. Now I've finally been, I find myself wondering when I can go back.
It's also reminded me that some of my favourite experiences have happened because I made the effort to get out there. Whether that's a morning at a local nature reserve or five days searching the Scottish coastline for otters, there's always something worth discovering.
Of course, there will always be reasons to put things off. Work, money, commitments and everything else that fills our calendars.
But I don't want to spend years talking about the places I'd love to visit without actually going.
So, where to next?
