The Jet Chaser

The camera is getting hard to hold with any purpose, as the cold bites hard.

A hot flask of tea is long gone. The anticipated arrival time has been, and gone. The game, it turns out, is patience. But that’s just the tip of this (almost literal, by my estimation) iceberg. Hours running into days of preparation; forging paths through wilderness to access optimum vantage points. Constant monitoring of potential targets, taking off miles away, with a potential low pass through this stunning corner of Scotland. The scramble to the car, to the hilltop, to sit and wait, could easily be in vain.

Today, thankfully, four of six potential typhoon jets make the pass. A trained, razor sharp eye spots them miles out. My eyes barely catch them before they’re beneath us. Flying low level across Loch Lomond, our hillside vantage provides the perfect opportunity to landlock the aircraft (photographing the plane fully surrounded by land, rather than sky).

The build up, the preparation, the anticipation. It’s all over in seconds as they bank left and disappear behind the hills. And we head home, to thaw and live from the buzz of fighter jets passing below our feet.