Here’s to Faith & Film: Doug & Abbie’s Scottish Highlands Elopement

There are certain moments in your creative life that feel like a line in the sand. The before, the after. Doug & Abbie’s Scottish Highlands elopement was exactly that for me as it was the first wedding I shot entirely on film, and the moment this little dream of rebranding became real.

(and of course I had to bring Frey along for the vibes)

Some of you know Doug as a bit of an internet mate and that was no different with the two of us. We’d been Instagram homies for ages, the kind of friends who hype each other up online but have never met in person. So when he messaged me one day asking if I’d be keen to photograph his marriage to the wonderful Abbie in the Highlands, it honestly didn’t sink in straight away.

He didn’t even know I’d been quietly toying with the idea of moving my whole wedding work to film only but somehow he read my mind.

What started as a plan just to finally meet up turned into late-night idea sessions, location daydreams, and mood boards full of Scotland’s wildest corners. We both knew what we wanted: something honest, something slow, something that looked exactly how it felt. And the only way to do that was to leave the digital gear at home.

A Highland Dawn to Kick It Off

The funny thing is the official wedding day didn’t even start until the afternoon, but we were up before first light. Doug wanted to see some of my favourite spots while Abbie caught up on sleep in the car. So the three of us hit the road, walking boots loosely tied, cameras rattling in the boot, heading straight for Glen Etive Mor and the famous Little White House.

I’ll never forget how quiet it was. We didn’t talk about photography or timelines. We just soaked it in. Two friends in the middle of nowhere, both grinning at the mad beauty of it all.

The Slow Getting Ready

By late morning, we rolled back to the hotel car park where Abbie was still curled up, cosy and calm, ready to get going. They got ready together in this warm, quiet little room. The hotel was quaint, overlooking the most beautiful landscape. I’ve been to Scotland countless times and when I tell you I’ve never had a day so beautiful I mean it with all my heart.

Back in the room there was no mad rush, no forced first look. Just the two of them helping each other with their suit & dress, loading rolls of film into Doug’s prized Leica whilst Abbie FaceTimed her mum to keep her updated on the other side of the world. The Contax was perfect for the subtle frames that caught the gentle stuff: the soft smiles, the calm before the big wildness.

Vows at The Quiraing

The Highlands are like no place on earth. They’re ancient, unpredictable, and always slightly dramatic in the best way. Doug and Abbie chose The Quiraing for their vows, and honestly, I couldn’t think of anywhere more fitting. The wind up there feels alive, whipping words straight from your mouth if you’re not careful. But that made it better.

They stood on a little plateau, boots digging into damp turf, clouds rolling over the ridgeline. Doug read his words first, Abbie beaming at him, hair whipping across her cheeks. No chairs, no arch, no audience. Just the raw, wild Highlands and two people promising forever.

Racing the Light to Sligachan

One thing about Scotland is that when the sun starts to drop, you run. After the vows, we piled back into the car, still half-shouting about how good it all felt. We knew Sligachan was where we wanted that final golden bit of light.

We got there just in time with the sky getting more golden by the second, mountains painted with that last warm brushstroke before dusk. Doug & Abbie photographed each other, wandered through the wilderness and didn’t have a care in the world about anything but each other. It was chaotic, messy, and completely perfect.

Curry in Wedding Outfits

Here’s the bit no one sees on Pinterest. After Sligachan, we were starving. Nothing fancy, no posh sit-down dinner. We parked up and walked straight into the local curry house; Doug in his suit, Abbie still in her bright white (yet slightly muddy) dress. It might be one of my favourite ends to a wedding to date. It felt right.

The 3AM Alarm! Storr or Bust

Most people would’ve called it a night there but not these two. We slept in the van, parked in their hotel car park like a couple of teenagers on a road trip. Alarms went off at 3AM. Groggy as anything, we piled on layers, grabbed head torches, and set off for the Old Man of Storr in pitch black.

When we got to the top, dawn was just cracking open. Soft pinks, the first gold brushing the tips of the rocks. Abbie working the 3am grog away faster than you could call it yet wrapped in her jacket between frames. We didn’t talk much didn’t need to.

We hiked, we had quick chats with people from all over the world, Doug got questioned about hiking in a suit before being met with rapturous congratulations by every passer by and once again we had conditions I haven’t once had in the however many years of visiting the highlands.

What This All Meant

Looking back, this wasn’t just about pretty photos. This was about trust. About two people saying, “We want it real. We want it imperfect. We want you to see it like we see it.” That’s the gift film gives you. No back of the camera, no digital safety net, just a handful of rolls and all the faith you can muster.

It taught me that when you’re brave enough to slow down, you get to notice things that would’ve slipped by in the scramble. A moment of dress reorganising amidst the Scottish gales. A streak of light across a lens. A couple who’ll happily freeze their fingers off for one last sunrise because they know it’ll be worth it.

Doug & Abbie gave me that permission, the permission to do it my way, on my terms, with my favourite cameras and person by my side. And now they’re more than just people I know online. They’re real-life friends, the kind you’d camp out in a van with again tomorrow if they asked.

Here’s to the Next Chapter

So here’s to the messy hair, the curry-in-a-dress moments, the wind, and every single piece of this day that felt like it should. Here’s to faith. To film. And to slowing down enough to see it all.