The Intentional Backpack: why my minimalist kit is essential for the Scottish Highlands at sixty

There’s a certain weight to experience, and I don’t just mean the cumulative knowledge gained from years behind the camera. I mean the physical weight. The Scottish Highlands and Islands - from the serrated ridges of the Cuillins to the vast, moody expanses of the Outer Hebrides - demand effort. They require you to climb, traverse, and often scramble. For a long time, I approached these landscapes with a hefty bag, convinced that redundancy was security. I carried two DSLR bodies, five lenses, and enough accessories to open a small shop.

Now, at 60, my perspective has shifted entirely. I realised the greatest limiting factor to my photography wasn't a missing focal length; it was my endurance. A heavy pack is a lead weight on both your back and your creativity. This intentional shift toward a minimalist kit isn't a compromise; it's a profound act of optimisation. Every item in my bag has to justify its presence through practical necessity, allowing me to focus on the light, the composition, and the glorious atmosphere of the environment, not the ache in my knees.

The Core Trio: Optimisation over Redundancy

My entire photographic philosophy for the Highlands now hinges on three core pieces of gear, all chosen for their capability and, crucially, their mass-to-performance ratio.

1. The Body: Small Size, Serious Sensor

My anchor is my little Canon M100 mirrorless body. Now, I know what most professionals might say, but I chose this camera precisely because of its diminutive size and low weight. Saving a few hundred grams here is the difference between an enjoyable, extended trek and a painful slog back to the car.

The M100’s 24MP APS-C sensor gives me all the resolution I need for stunning, detailed prints. The fact is, a high-quality print is dictated far more by light, composition, and lens quality than by having a full-frame sensor sitting on the hill. It proves that size absolutely does not dictate quality.

A key element here is the EF-M to EF-S adaptor. This quietly smart piece of hardware allows me to utilise established, high-performing EF-S lenses without having to lug a bulkier DSLR body. It's an efficient use of existing, proven technology.

2. The Lenses: The Workhorse and The Specialist

I permit myself two, and only two, lenses. This removes the "choice fatigue" that often plagued me when light is fleeting.

• The Workhorse: Canon EF-S 18-135mm. If I could only take one lens, this is it. It’s the versatile problem-solver. It covers wide enough views at 18mm for most grand scenes and allows me to compress the distant peaks or isolate details at 135mm. Crucially, it saves me from changing glass in driving rain or a sudden, wind-whipped snow flurry - a factor that improves my efficiency tenfold when that moody Scottish light is changing by the second.

• The Specialist: Canon EF-S 10-18mm. This lens is the low-weight luxury I allow myself. It’s sharp, incredibly light for an ultra-wide zoom, and necessary for those expansive, iconic scenes that demand exaggerated scale - the scale of the Old Man of Storr or the staggering depth of a Glencoe valley. It’s a low-weight investment for a high-impact, dramatic result.

The Unsung Heroes: Precision Accessories

In landscape photography, the accessories are often far more vital than an extra lens. My bag might be light, but my control over light and perspective is absolute because I prioritise quality essentials.

1. Filters: Controlling Light, Not Chasing It

This is where the technical focus must lie. My K&F Concept Nano-X ND Filter Kit and Hoya CIR-PL are non-negotiable.

• Neutral Density (ND) Filters: Carrying a range of stops (ND4, ND8, ND64, ND1000) allows me to dictate my shutter speed, which is key to capturing the mood of the Highlands. The ND1000 for those silk-smooth long exposures of waterfalls or moving clouds, and the ND64 (a six-stop) for stretching those early or late-day exposures without pushing my ISO. This approach is about controlling light in the field to retain maximum dynamic range, rather than pushing data in post-processing.

• The Polariser: The Circular Polariser (CIR-PL) is arguably the single most important tool in my bag. It's not just for blue skies; in Scotland, it’s essential for cutting glare off wet rocks, intensifying the vibrant greens of the moss and heather, and deepening the moody blue or grey of the lochs. It adds an immediate, tangible contrast and saturation that is impossible to truly replicate digitally.

• The Stepping Rings: Using a 77mm filter thread (the largest) across both my smaller lenses via a set of stepping rings is a small but vital hack. It means I only need one set of high-quality filters, saving weight and reducing clutter.

2. Stability: The Intentional Sacrifice

My K&F Concept lightweight tripod is a practical concession. Yes, a heavier tripod is more stable in a gale on Skye, but the reality is I’ll be far less inclined to haul an 8lb carbon fibre monolith up a hill.

A lighter tripod means I’ll actually carry it to the vantage point. To compensate for any instability, I use better technique: always bracing the tripod with my backpack on windy days, using the two-second timer to eliminate mirror-slap vibration (even with a mirrorless camera, it's cheap insurance), and always employing my L-bracket. The L-bracket allows me to switch from horizontal to vertical composition instantly without shifting the ball head’s centre of gravity, saving precious, fleeting minutes of light.

The Freedom of Less

Ultimately, this minimalist approach delivers a profound creative benefit: agility.

When my bag is light, I have the physical and mental space to be more responsive to the environment. I can scramble quickly to a new vantage point when a burst of golden light breaks through the clouds. I’m not mentally cluttered with gear decisions. I’m more attuned to the scene, the weather, and the moment.

For any landscape photographer, and particularly for those of us who intend to keep shooting the grand, challenging landscapes of the world well into our later years, the intentional, minimalist kit isn't a constraint - it's the greatest freedom we can give ourselves. It trades the burden of carrying gear for the joy of creating images.