Finally, after months of walking through winter, the tiny uninhabited island of Hildasay where I stayed for 3 months during the first lockdown, came into bloom. The birds arrived to nest from all different parts of the world on their epic migration journeys and sea pinks and lichen decorated the rocks with beautiful oranges and pinks looking out to a calm, crystal clear blue water. I'd spent the day enjoying the rare warmth of the sun taking in this breathtaking view. This photo is one of my all-time favourites and inspired me to come up with the name of my book, 'Finding Hildasay.' This photo will forever serve as a reminder of what a special time this was.

Hildasay is a perfect nesting ground for birds. During my time there in spring, I saw the arrival of Arctic terns, Great Skuas, Lapwings as well as an abundance of Oystercatchers, Common Snipes, Fulmars and different types of gulls littering the sky. Here, I witnessed something I had never seen or ever thought I would see in my entire life; Great Skuas, the biggest and most aggressive of all these birds, would come to prey on the eggs and I'd see Oystercatchers, Gulls and Terns work together to fend them off. At night, before sunset, the beautiful mating song of the Common Snipe and the sounds of the other birds resounded through the skies so loudly I could hardly hear myself think. I would just sit each night and listen to the birdsong, feeling extremely privileged to have been part of such a spectacular exhibit of wildlife in such a special place. To get a shot of a single Arctic Tern was really challenging; I'd been trying daily since I'd first arrived on the island as the skies were always littered with them. By pure chance, whilst Jet and I sat outside marvelling at this incredible sunset, a rogue Tern came into view and I seized my opportunity just in time to get this shot which I love.

I arrived back to the north coast of Scotland having just finished walking the last of the Scottish islands ready to attack the east coast. This was just a month before my life would change forever and I would bump into my now fiancee and mother of my child, Kate. I was gutted to be leaving the islands as they were such special places to me, knowing that soon enough I'd be heading into bigger cities and more populated areas. I was welcomed with a spectacular sunset next to mainland Britain's most northern piece of land - Dunnet Head. Incredibly proud of our achievement so far, Jet and I sat and marvelled at the fiery skies contemplating our next move. It was the perfect welcome back to the mainland and unbeknown to me at the time, a little signal that this adventure would keep getting better and better!

Photographs like this will always be a constant reminder that every time an angry winter storm cloud came close, it was time for Jet and I to batten down the hatches! One minute everything was nice and calm, the next a cloud like this would suddenly form and bring its wrath; incredibly powerful winds would engulf us as well as hail and rain, often strong enough to leave cuts on your face. Each time I saw a cloud like this head our way, my heart would race and my skills as a survivalist in the wild would come into play. I have never seen clouds like I've seen on the Western and Northern Isles before and would always say to myself that the more beautiful something is, the more destructive it would be. This shot will always be a reminder to me that you have to be in it to win it! Photographs are moments captured - living outside 24 hours a day would bless me as a photographer with perfect moments like this that I would have otherwise missed. Fetla, 'The Garden of Shetland' is the greenest of all the Shetland Isles, hence its name. I would often sit and think about how our ancestors survived for generations in such brutal conditions which gave me an ever-increasing respect and gratitude for their efforts allowing us to be here now.

Being on your own on an uninhabited island and staying sane means you have to keep busy! Every day, I would keep my mind occupied by filling it with things to do. One of these things was looking after sheep. The owner of the sheep had asked me, as it was now lambing season, if I would keep a daily check on the lambs and do my best to protect the newborns from the ever-imminent attacks of the Great Skuas. Armed with medicines, I would circumnavigate the island of Hildasay twice a day to keep count of the sheep. Being so far up north and in a place during winters where winds are incredibly brutal (scary, at times!), I would sit and watch the sheep mothering their young in admiration at their hardiness and robustness for surviving these kinds of conditions. Sheep had always just been sheep to me but here, I found a new lifelong respect for them.

Sunsets and sunrises will always be the most special part of my day, sunrises especially as a reminder of how lucky I am to see a new day in and what a real gift life is. The reflection of the skies on the wet sand on nights like this are not only a spectacle to behold but also a constant reminder that I, myself, should reflect more on my own life. Taking time out in the beautiful great outdoors has and forever will be the place where I sit and take time out to reflect and marvel at mother nature. The calmness and peace it brings can never be trumped. As we sat in awe contemplating this incredible sunset at Dunnet Head, about to turn the corner down the east coast, I knew that the Northern Isles would soon be out of view. It was the perfect night to sit and reflect on what Jet and I had just achieved walking them.