Angus Nicolson Bathgate, 1939-2024

This post was originally going to be about Calton Hill, which I started in September last year. Life, however, has a way of throwing up unpredictable events . My father, Dad, became ill in November 2023, and never completely recovered.

I don’t intend to write a detailed life story, nor attempt to capture every aspect of his personality. Instead, I’ve written an appreciation of the photos he created over more than twenty years. I’ve selected only a small number of these, through which I hope I’ve conveyed the kind of man he was, his love of photography, and the diverse subjects that interested him.

24^th January 1939, and Angus Nicolson Bathgate was born at West Fenton farm cottages in East Lothian. Angus was the first of two sons brought into the world by Andrew and Bessie. Andrew Lyall Bathgate was born in the same county, and worked as a farm labourer, one of many who spent their days in hard physical graft before mechanisation took over. Elizabeth, or Bessie as she was known, came from Skye, and my dad had fond memories of visiting the family there, living on the croft with the sheep and chickens.

East Lothian, known as Haddingtonshire until 1921, is an ancient rural area with 40 miles of beautiful coastline. Often referred to as the ‘Garden of Scotland’, it left a lasting impression on my dad’s imagination.

Sifting through his gallery of over 109,000 photos, I’m struck by the beauty of my dad’s images. Barley fields, fields carpeted with crimson poppies or vibrant yellow rapeseed, sunsets over the Firth of Forth, snow scenes. There are rainbows, cherry blossom trees in Musselburgh, yachts bathed in golden light off the coast of North Berwick. Waves crash against rocks at Port Seton, and the rivers Esk and Tyne are captured throughout the seasons. Farming machinery harvest fields, lift tatties, and plough furrows.

I like the unusual perspective of this photo, the combine facing downhill, with the Pentland hills in the distance. My dad often thought of his own dad guiding the horse-drawn plough through the endless soil. What would he have thought of the modern farming methods that could have made his life so much easier?

My dad’s photos also capture many of the county’s industries. Fishing boats at Cockenzie and Fisherrow harbours were a favourite subject. There are reminders of Wallyford’s heritage, like the pug, a train that took bricks from the brickworks, and coal from the pits, to the main line for transport. The miners’ memorial stone commemorates lives lost in the collieries, and of course there’s farming. Intimately entwined with farming is blacksmithing, and distilling which was widespread in the area.

One of distilling’s raw materials is the barley harvested from the surrounding fields, and one of its by-products is draff. Farmers use this as cattle feed – the coos apparently love it! My dad recounted stories of his dad taking the cattle up to Glenkinchie distillery for the draff. The cattle got their feed, and his dad got a wee tipple, returning home a wee bit the worse for wear. I once visited the distillery with my dad for a tasting tour. I’ll forever associate Glenkinchie whisky with him, it’s a lovely example of a light lowland dram we both enjoyed.

As an engineer, my dad took a great interest in how things worked, how they were made, and the people who made them. I remember long discussions about Ralph Plastics, a company in Macmerry that specialises in manufacturing fibreglass items. Most notable of these is the 6.5-metre whale jawbone at the top of North Berwick Law. My dad photographed its production and witnessed it being lifted by helicopter onto the Law in 2008.

Another project he enjoyed was the design and manufacture of ‘Exposure’, an Anthony Gormley commission awarded to another East Lothian company called Had Fab. The work stands 25 metres high and weighs 60 tonnes. He’d have known those facts, of course. Numbers and figures excited my dad’s engineering brain, as much as the intricacy of these projects, and the beauty of the landscapes in which they were situated.

Cockenzie power station demolition

The famous landscape photographer Ansel Adams once said, “A good photograph is knowing where to stand.” My dad always planned meticulously to ensure he was in exactly the right spot. He’d seek an ideal distance from the subject, at the right time of day, with the sun in the perfect position.

A good example is the photo shown above, showing a demolition at Cockenzie power station in September 2015. Both chimneys were brought down so they fell against each other in a deadly embrace, both structures turning to a pile of rubble in seconds. The gallery at the end of this post includes an equally impressive photo taken a few months later when the main building was demolished.

My dad had a natural ability to connect with people almost instantly. He’d regularly capture moments in their daily lives with his photos: a blacksmith expertly bending a piece of red-hot steel, a technician adjusting bolts from a cherry picker, farm workers resting by their combine after a morning harvesting the fields, or passing strangers. He would talk to anyone, regardless of age, status, or background, and took a genuine interest in their lives.

He even had his own hi-vis vest and hard hat that he kept in the boot of his car for certain occasions, such as the annual ‘craning out’ and ‘craning in’ of boats at Fisherrow harbour. The teams involved knew my dad and would welcome his enthusiasm and interest in their task.

This is one of my favourite photos. I really enjoy the composition, the curved, wind-bent trees in the foreground provide a striking contrast with the man made vertical of the Hopetoun Monument in the distance. Erected in 1824 in memory of the 4th Earl of Hopetoun, the tower can be seen for miles around East Lothian.

On a clear day, the views from the top are breath taking. My dad would take his grandsons to the tower, armed with torches, so they could climb the dark staircase to the top, an experience that both scared and excited them in equal measure. I often wonder what this image would look like in monochrome, but that’s not how my dad envisioned the scene.

My dad’s love for people naturally extended to his community. He was deeply community-minded, with an extensive knowledge of local history. His passion for documenting local life and events is evident in the countless occasions he photographed throughout the year in Wallyford and Musselburgh.

Dad’s calendar was always filled with upcoming events. He was present when the new Wallyford Primary School opened, managing to get himself pictured next to John Swinney, who officiated the opening. He attended and photographed remembrance ceremonies, gala days, and commemorations.

The photo above shows my dad at the unveiling of a sculpture by local artist Gardner Molloy commemorating the Battle of Pinkie Cleugh. Also in the photo is Alister Hadden, chairman of the Musselburgh Museum and Heritage Group and former chairperson of Wallyford Community Council. Alister thought highly of my dad, inviting him to take part in and photograph many community events over the years.

My dad photographed the Honest Lad and Lass fording the Esk during the Musselburgh Festival. I smile when I think about him telling me about the rivalry with the ‘official’ photographers over getting the best spot. He always attended the Wallyford Christmas parade and the switching on of the Christmas lights, the David Macbeth Moir annual wreath-laying ceremony in Musselburgh, and the archery prize-giving for youngsters at Wallyford Community Centre.

Photography alone didn’t define my dad, but it was something that brought him immense joy and purpose. After his retirement in 2008 he could devote more time to his hobby. It kept him physically fit too. I remember walking up a hill in Garvald many years ago, noting how spritely he was as I followed him to the top.

The photo above is another of my favourites. The composition and timing are beautiful. This was taken at Seacliff Beach, one of my dad’s best-loved locations. Situated not far from North Berwick, the beach is privately owned and remains largely unspoiled. It also has a tiny harbour carved into the rocks, which is believed to be the smallest in the UK. One of the last trips we did was to Seacliff. I remember taking my drones, the technology fascinated my dad, and we managed to get some great photos that day.

We enjoyed many other photo trips together over the years and drove to many places in East Lothian and further afield, including North Berwick, East Linton, Cove Harbour, and Dunbar. We climbed North Berwick and Traprain Laws in search of the Exmoor ponies who roam freely there. We took the ferry over to Inchcolm Island in July 2023, and photographed the abbey and seabirds. We visited the Kelpies, Barns Ness lighthouse, and possibly most memorable of all, we took a fast rib out to the Isle of May in July 2012 to photograph puffins, guillemots, razorbills and gannets, ending up with over 600 photos between us.

When I look at the subjects my dad loved photographing, I get a sense of the things that were important to him. He captured landscapes, people—especially family and his beloved Agnes—structures, monuments, machinery, events… and animals.

His images of swans and geese on the banks of the River Esk, squirrels in his backyard mistaking golf balls for nuts, horses in front of Fa’Side Castle, and various other creatures like cows, robins, and butterflies, all reveal his deep love of nature.

I love the intimacy of this photo. My dad has cropped in close to capture the vulnerability of the little cygnet wrapped up in its mother’s feathers.

As I scroll through his photos, I see recurring subjects and locations, each depicted at different times of the day and throughout the year. The same scene appears bathed in golden Autumnal light, and then covered in snow a few months later, illustrating my dad’s determination to capture that elusive ‘perfect shot’.

He loved seeing people engage with his images. Although he was a very modest man who did not seek praise, he derived immense pleasure when people commented on or asked questions about his photos.

He loved compiling calendars for various organisations and was regularly asked to contribute to the East Lothian Calendar, the Musselburgh Calendar, and latterly the Musselburgh and Portobello Calendar. Each year as the deadline approached, my dad would pore over his photos, deciding with help from my mum which ones would be deemed worthy of publication.

He also enjoyed contributing to local newspapers, regularly having his photos published in the Evening News’ Readers Photos section. He provided images for articles in the Musselburgh and East Lothian Courier, and posted his work on Facebook where he also enjoyed sharing his knowledge of local history in various local interest groups.

I feel a responsibility to preserve and share my dad’s photos, they’re part of his legacy. They deserve an online presence, so I’m looking at constructing a website in the coming year. There’s talk of an exhibition in Musselburgh next year, which would be a perfect way to showcase his work.

My dad passed away peacefully on 15^th April 2024, aged 85. His physical presence has gone, like a fleeting shadow on the local landscapes he loved. His ashes will be scattered on the soil where he lived, merging with the fields, trees, plants and earth around Wallyford.

Gallery

Some additional photos selected from my dad’s collection.