In the end, I decide to go full tourist. I book to transfer to Portree in the morning and also for a coach trip that will take me south towards the Cuillins. I figure that, as I have good pictures from the sea to the south, it might now be nice to get a good view from the landward side as well.

My outlook for the trip seems to be slowly changing. I was initially quite content to spend a long week in a nice floating hotel room and just chill out, but now I’m starting to feel that I want to have a bit more of the full experience. Now that I’m here and the scenery is so spectacular, I might as well make the most of it.

I manage a really good night’s sleep and I’m one of the first passengers in the line for disembarkation the following morning. It seems that my depression might be lifting a little as I begin to enjoy myself.

Much of this can be put down to the magnificent scenery that we are now constantly finding ourselves in the midst of. The views from my balcony this morning, even from our anchorage, were truly spectacular, steep rocky slopes plunging to the sea with a tumultuous grandeur.

The ship’s tender is bigger than it looks, holding about a hundred passengers for the short transfer into the very colourful harbour. The breeze has picked up a bit though and the short ride is a little bumpy. I position myself near to the windows and take care to watch the horizon as we bob along. I do have a slight tendency to motion sickness, but this is only a couple of minutes or so and not really a problem.

With a couple of hours before the coach departs for the centre of the island, I have plenty of time to walk around the still-quiet town. It really is very photogenic and the slightly hazy morning light lends it a softness that I try my best to capture.

In many ways, it reminds me of home, but in a good way. Not Douglas, that’s had far too much development once you get back from the Victorian sea-front. But the smaller towns of Peel and Port St. Mary still have their old fishing harbours and twisting streets and alleyways.

I didn’t expect to see Evan, but I do catch a glimpse of him at work. I’ve returned to the harbourside, to reorientate myself and head for the coaches when I spot him perhaps fifty yards away. He has his tripod set up and is clearly speaking a piece to camera, the ship probably just visible in the background beyond the headland.

He's fascinating to watch as he works. There’s a bright confidence to his delivery that somehow manages to appear spontaneous, even though I’m sure it is carefully scripted and possibly even practiced.

As he reaches over to stop the camera, he notices me watching him and smiles as he gestures for me to approach. “Morning Adam, how are you enjoying the day in Portree?”

“It’s nice. How about you? Do you need to do another take?”

“No, that was pretty good. Besides, I’m off to the coach for the excursion inland.”

“Oh, so am I. That’s a coincidence.” I tell him as he smiles once more.

“Or not. I heard you make the booking last night and thought I’d quite like to have a bit of a break from the camera. I thought about going to see Eilean Donan Castle, but I really don’t fancy two hours in a coach each way, even for a castle.”

“Agreed. It’s a place I’d love to see one day, but I think I’d like to take my time and do it justice. Did you know it is one of the most photographed places in Scotland? Everyone has already done it and I’m not sure that I would have anything to add.”

“Yes. It makes it difficult to get anything special out of it, I suspect. Most of this whole area needs much more time to explore. It needs a couple of weeks with a car and time to stop and enjoy each location.”

“Yes, there seems to be too much to see in such a short time.”

“Still, let’s make the most of the time we have. Here are the coaches.”

We show our excursion tickets to the guide and are ushered towards the first of two coaches. The second is going to the castle, but ours is just driving about thirty minutes south to the bridge and junction at Sligachan. We can then get lunch at the hotel or take a walk into the glens and mountains and explore.

We find seats together near the front and sit back to enjoy the short drive. The scenery it truly magnificent as we drive down the glen towards the south with the towering peaks of the Cuillins glimpsed through the windscreen ahead of us. The coach is only half full, many more people clearly having opted for the castle.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” The guide announces over the intercom as we draw into the car park and pull to a stop. “It’s now just after eleven. The coach will leave at four. Please don’t go farther than you have time for. The ship has a tight schedule and we can’t keep it waiting. The hotel has a bar and a restaurant if you feel like lunch.”

“Have you done your research?” Evan asks as we stand in the car park, trying to get our bearings.

“Well, a little. There are some nice waterfalls that way, but it looks very steep.” I point off to the south-west, towards Bealach a’ Mhaim.

“But you’re tempted?”

“Yes. I thought I’d walk for maybe an hour or ninety minutes and see how far I could get. I’m not super fit, but I’ll be fine if I take it slowly. I don’t think I’ll make it to the Bealach, it’s about four miles and more than 1000 feet of climb, but the views into the corries will be spectacular even half way up.” I drop my camera bag off my shoulder and take a few moments to swop to my wide-angle lens. I let the camera hang around my neck and then hoist the bag properly onto my back, with both straps set comfortably.

“Would you mind if I joined you? Or would you prefer to be alone?”

“Oh, no. Company will be nice. Are you sure your shoes are up to the task?” I ask him looking at the trainers he’s wearing and comparing them to my sturdier footwear.

“We’re not scrambling up the mountain-sides, are we?”

“Definitely not. We’ll stick to the path, but it might be quite muddy. This is Scotland. Summer only means less rain.”

“True. I’ll be fine. They are supposed to be waterproof and I have another pair with me on the ship.”

“Well, we’d better make a start.” I head off in the direction of the desired footpath and am relieved to see that everything is clearly signposted and the path looks to be well kept. When I was younger, I walked often and my Island home was the target for much of my photography. Africa took over to some degree, but I still really enjoy getting out into rugged and dramatic countryside like this.

It's been far too long. Peter never liked to walk in the country and, with the benefit of hindsight, I can see that it was simply because he was too lazy and had a total disinterest in anything around him. Walking with someone who is clearly interested in his surroundings makes me realize some part of what I’ve denied myself for the last three years.

I moulded my life around Peter. That was a pretty serious mistake, as I found myself getting slowly more and more depressed as I buried my own needs, to keep him happy at my own expense. I’d been dragged to bars and clubs far too often and drunk far too much booze. I’d then had to struggle to keep on top of my workload and maintain my standards.

Sure, I had escaped to Zambia last year, but the moaning and complaining before and after the trip had managed to make it seem like I was doing something wrong. Now, I was beginning to feel determined to go again. With no reason to feel guilty, I could pick a destination and really enjoy myself.

Walking slowly up the hill in silence. I keep stopping often, both to admire the views and to take photographs in different directions as the views changed. We make slow progress for a couple of kilometres or so, now in the shadow of the 3,000 foot peaks of Sgurr nan Gillean and Am Basteir to the south and the more rounded hills to the north.

Stopping at a spectacular waterfall, I soon notice that Evan is not close by. Looking around, I easily spot him a few yards behind me, camera held at arm’s length and clearly recording a piece as he slowly rotates on the spot with his phone in his outstretched hand. I can’t resist a quick snap of him at work.

“Sorry,” he tells me as he lowers the camera and takes a few quick strides to catch up. “Just doing a short clip for Instagram.”

“No problem. I only stopped to check because I thought you might have tripped or stumbled. It is very uneven here.”

“No, just work, I’m afraid.” He tells me. “I just felt the need to share these magnificent views with my followers. This is so far out of my normal range that they’ll go wild for it.”

I knew I shouldn’t have mentioned stumbling as soon as the word left my lips, but now I’m pretty sure that I’m going to pay the price for tempting fate.

The tiny rock of impending doom comes out of nowhere and places itself skilfully in front of my toe. As I feel myself start to go down and realize I’m not going to stay on my feet, my first thought is to try and save the camera around my neck and the bag on my back. I start to turn as I go down, to try and land on my side.

Evan reaches out to try and steady me, but his hand only manages to grab the shoulder strap of my backpack and he’s not heavy enough to stop me going all the way down. Nor can he stop himself from landing on top of me.

I land hard with whoosh of expelled air, most of the impact on hip and shoulder. Evan lands softer, on top of me with one leg either side of my upper hip and my hand, still clutching the camera, trapped between us.

I let out a couple of loud puffs of air as I take some deep breaths and close my eyes for a moment at the pain of the impact. When I open my eyes again, Evan’s face is very close to mine and he is staring deep into my eyes with evident concern.

Maybe I banged my head in the fall, because I’m not usually this forward. As he continues to stare at me, almost on the point of speaking, I lift my free hand and slip it across the back of his neck, drawing him slightly towards me.

He resists for just a moment, but then his gaze softens and his eyes close as he drops his face towards mine and our lips touch. That first touch is feather-light and we both draw back after just a moment. Evan opens his eyes and stares at me again, questioningly. I let a slight smile light my eyes and draw him back once more. Our second kiss is longer, deeper and more exploratory.

As Evan shifts his weight, I groan at the realization that my hip is really painful and Evan draws back to clamber off me quickly, full of concern. “Oh, Adam.” He mutters as he gets to his feet. “I forgot how hard you just fell. Are you okay?”

“I will be, I think. My hip is going to be a bit bruised. It took all the weight – of both of us.” I manage to get myself into a sitting position and hold out a hand to be helped up.

Evan takes the offered hand and we manage to get me back on to my feet, if a little unsteady. “I think we might have to turn back though. I’m not sure I can go uphill now.”

“Sure. We can take our time and rest in the hotel when we get back down. We weren’t going to get much further in the time anyway. Can I do anything to help?”

“Well, maybe a steadying hand?” I ask with a slight grin.

Evan takes the rather obvious hint and reaches for my hand, interlocking our fingers gently. “Anything else?”

“Hmm…” I mumble as I rotate into him and once more place my hand behind his neck to kiss him deeply. His free hand slides across my uninjured hip and slowly up my back until it is resting at the nape of my neck, causing me to shiver involuntarily.

I’m the first to break. “Come on, it’s a long walk back.”

“Adam?”

“Evan?”

“I wasn’t sure if you liked me or not.”

“Neither was I. I thought we were getting on, but until yesterday I didn’t even know that you were gay.” I smile at him, suddenly a little self-conscious. “I don’t normally kiss any guy who falls on top of me, but I think I do like you.”

“Sorry again. I was trying to save you. Really, I was.”

“Oh, I know that. Don’t be daft. Once the fall started, I knew I was going down. With hindsight, you should have let me fall, but your motive was a good one. Very gallant.”

“You’re favouring that right leg a little.”

“Yes, it’s a bit uncomfortable. I’m sure I’ll have an awesome bruise later. You didn’t hurt yourself, did you.”

“No, you broke my fall. Even both our cameras have survived.”

“Yes, I was trying to protect mine. That’s why I twisted. If I wasn’t wearing thousands of pounds worth of lenses on my back, I’d have gone right round and tried to land on my arse. There is a little more padding there.”

We walk slowly back down to the hotel, hands still held firmly. It’s after two by the time I collapse into a comfortable chair in the bar, finally able to get the heavy camera bag off my back and relax.

Evan appears a moment later with a couple of drinks and a copy of the menu. “You should eat something.”

“You? You taste pretty good.” I might be in pain, but I try and put every bit of twinkle into my eye that I can as I stare at him.

“Later. Right now, you should eat some actual food. Do you need any painkillers?”

“Not right now. I want to enjoy the beer. Maybe I can manage a sandwich though. You choose.”

“Anything you don’t like?”

“Not partial to smoked salmon, but pretty much anything else goes.”