Mary's Journal

No boat is a democracy and as king of the roost I seized Mary's journal and transcribed it's contents here: hopefully she will forgive me my brazen action. The words are as she wrote them, apart from a few light edits to remove overly personal references, otherwise containing warts and all.

There are many reasons why her account is interesting (not least because she was the only member of the crew to write one! We kept a boat log but the dry, quantitative entries only allow a glint of the sights and experiences to show through) but the overriding spirit of the fortnight comes through and illustrates our feelings on the trip well.

13 July 2003

Halton chugged gently out of Scrabster: warm, sunny morning, deep blue skies and sea. Bit of a swell but nothing serious. Just off coast, dolphins leapt and splashed about in the distance. Looked as though they were trying to twist in the air, landing flat to create big splashes.

Sat down to sketch Hoy sleeping in the sun. Feeling sleepy myself on the warm deck. Just looked up as a whale, shining black with a lovely fin, surfaced right beside me. Couldn't believe my eyes. Saw it twice more before he disappeared behind boat. What a fantastic start to the trip. Poor birders stretched out on deck.

Sule Skerry

After a couple of hours and many trips to and fro in the inflatable the birders and all their mysterious paraphernalia were landed safely.

The small island is alive with birds in it's Atlantic isolation. The puffins swarm like clouds of midges over the green hummocky vegetation. Landing in a small gorge below the stark white lighthouse, we went to explore. There were puffins popping up out of burrows wherever you looked. So busy running about amongst the flowering mayweed. Those not involved underground would gather together in small groups on a high rocks or clump and puff themselves up. They chatted about this and that. Overhead the skies were crammed with puffins zooming about. Some coming in from fishing with beaks full of small silver fish. How they didn't collide baffles me. They crash land with an undignified stumble near their burrows. Luckily their nesting ground (the whole island) is a soft tussocky mass of pretty Mayweed.

We walked along an old track which in the days of manned lighthouses, the supplies would have been winched ashore. This led to a cliff face full of guillemots, gannets and shags. Many had chicks and they made the loudest noise. Guillemots sound like a trumpet blasting underwater while shags have a deeper honking sound. In the churning surf selkies appeared. The sea was clear enough to see them swimming under the surface.

Went for a quick spin in the inflatable before boarding the Halton. The grey seals were massive, the biggest I've ever seen!

Waiting to hear what the birders were up to, we headed off to Sule Stack about 4-6 miles away. Quite swelly!

Just before a small angry sunset we reached the stack which looms up high in the middle of nowhere. Like ornate fancy icing on a wedding cake gannets and their droppings decorate the vast majority of these rocks - particularly the more sheltered east side. They seem to cram themselves on to any available nesting site. Some couples managed to find space for a spot of bill tapping. But it was the guillemots that were demanding our attention. They seemed to become extremely vocal and the chicks were deafening. Then I realised what was going on. The adults were calling their young. Some were swimming about worriedly at the base of the rocks while others were encouraging the chicks to the side of the stack. Then one after another the chicks would hurl themselves off. Many bounced down the cruel cliff. Some made it straight in while others were swept off the lower ledges by the rising swell. It was quite an emotional sight and of course the black backed gulls had to make their presence felt - grabbing struggling chicks and violently shaking and bashing their little bodies against the rocks. But they have lovely fluffy babies to feed too! It was hard to refrain from yelling at the chicks to "jump now". How lucky we were to be there to see this spectacular event. And what a relief to see those that made it swimming off boldly with their parents. While all this was going on the Halton managed to have a quick affair with a creel rope which became rather familiar with the propeller. However, the boys cut this liaison short in a series of manoeuvres involving shackles, knives, ropes and dare-devil stunts over the side. The buoy was finally re-tied to its creels, the prop cleared and we left the amazing stack as the last pink glowed from the dark sky.

Kyle of Tongue

Woke up surrounded by soft blue hills and mountains in the Kyle of Tongue. Cliffs exposing strange rock, have eroded into a wealth of caves, stacks, natural arches and secret bays of golden sand. The sea is still and silver.

Spend the day here - lads have a dive but find no treasure. I have a fish no but no luck! Visited by 2 men in a boat. They all go off to locate wreck sites and I'm left with the lovely Monty dog.

Take a gentle cruise along the spectacular cliffs. Huge boulders perch precariously on sloping rock faces. Abandoned stone crofts nestle in small green valleys - a product of many years hard labour.

Return to Kyle - depart for Sule Skerry at 3.30am.

Woke up early as a big red sun slid above the horizon. As it slowly sparkled the sea a rainbow appeared, one end bang centre on the wheelhouse roof. Then to emphasise it's beauty a second one appeared, slightly paler than its partner. Ah! we thought, maybe Bob's in for a pot of gold. And as it turned out this has been one of the richest days of my life. No money could buy the thrilling spectacular glimpses of mother nature that I have witnessed today. I just can't believe my luck to have seen and heard all these different incidents.

Arrived back at Sule Skerry. There seem to be even more puffins swarming over the island. I noticed that they all (well, there's always the rebel exception) fly towards the island in the same direction - it looks rather like a whirlpool as they circle round the lighthouse. The sea was covered in large rafts of birds - maybe 2-3 hundred in each raft!

The shags seemed particularly interested in the boat and showed little fear at our close proximity. I managed to bounce a piece of bread off one bird's head. It looked surprised but turned his beak up at my gift.

Kittiwakes called their name continuously. Angus went for dive and saw a big chunk of metal - he was happy with that. Then on to Puffin city.

The birders had erected mist nets and were busy untangling their puzzled grunting prisoners. The ring is quickly applied to a leg and the bird released. Seems quite painless, but not for the ringers. Pecked, scratched and anointed with Puffin poo and ticks!

I could get to a few feet from the ones nearest the tracks. How comical they seem waddling about. One little fat chap slipped from his stony pedestal, slithered and plopped upside down into a burrow entrance. His bright orange feet flapping hopelessly in the air. Eventually he sorted himself out, had a shake and ran off into the Mayweed. His neighbours seemed to enjoy the spectacle with much "ooh-ing" to be heard.

They are literally everywhere on the Skerry but the strangest place to see them was on the roof of a wooded hut. All in a line like the starlings do at home.

Reluctant as I was to leave these charming little fellows it was time to go. Finishing a wee dram of whisky with the birders I took my last puffin photo. Then we heard the news from Bob, still aboard the Halton. "Killer whales on the North side of isle" crackled from the radio.

We hurried down the track towards the jetty, puffins forgotten for now and then I saw them. A huge black fin came round the rocks and this most amazing creature rose from the water. Standing on the edge of the jetty Orca after Orca swam by. They were no more than 50 yards away and I could clearly see the black and white patterns on their glistening bodies. There must have been 3 or 4 pods each containing about 7 whales. Young ones amongst the giants. Sadly we watched the last fin slice through the water and around the headland.

I was shaking with excitement as we clambered into the inflatable. We were all babbling about our sighting when someone yelled "here they come again". Now my excitement transformed in to irrational terror. We were right in their swim path. "Go faster" I shouted to Angus - he wanted to hang about! To see these big black fins and leaping bodies approaching you is quite awesome. I was very frightened indeed. As the inflatable approached the Halton I couldn't wait for it to be secured and I clambered up the tyre fenders to safety. Definitely a case of woman first - Thank you!

We watched them circling the island for a while then set sail for Rona where the birders hoped to ring Petrels.

It was a baking hot day with a lazy swell on a calm sea. Birders were sleeping on the deck and all was quiet. Then the dolphins arrived. Bodies leapt to life and we all crowded around the bow to gaze upon them. What delight they seemed to take in riding the bow wave. I could clearly see them underwater as they swerved to and fro in front of the boat. Then with a surge of power they leapt into the air. The largest of the group had what looked like barnacles attached to his back. I could see the breathing hole open when they surfaced and hear the sharp "blow" as they exhaled. Magnificent creatures they truly are with their broad bands of grey and white stripes along their sides. The just before they left I could swear the big fella tilted his head to one side to have a good look up at us. With a flick of his smiley face he was away.

What a day!

Five hours later we arrived at Rona - the seal Island. After dropping off birders (where they had to leap onto a slippery rock at the base of the cliffs) we had a cruise round the island. It appeared quite green in places and we could see the remains of a small settlement with its runrig cultivation. A lighthouse dominated it's highest peak.

Finding a safe anchorage proved to be difficult. Poor Angus and Bob had to take turns through the night to keep watch.

Woke up in the morning at a completely different island. As the sun rose my first sight was of this sheer rocky cliff absolutely covered with nesting gannets. They glided about like brilliant white pterodactyls. This was Sula Sgier - the folk from Lewis come here annually to collect gannets - they find them particularly tasty! Angus and Bob have a dive amongst the dive bombing gannets.

Off we go again, back to Rona to pick up the Petrel ringers. The wind became stronger and sea more temperamental - I'd say it was damned rough. Birders all stretched out sleeping through their motion misery. After many hours, first the gleaming moody stack then the Skerry lighthouse appear on the horizon - a welcome sight indeed. Drop off the lads on opposite side of island this time. Decide to steam to Kyle of Tongue to shelter from the weather, catch up on some much needed sleep and chill out. Rolled round Rabbit Island at 1.07am. What utter bliss to hear the engines shut down and the anchor chain rumble across the deck. Now we can all sleep. (The lads have been cat-napping, swapping every 2 hours or so). They must be so tired - I know I am.

Thursday

Awoke suddenly to the sound of water splashing against side of boat - thought the lads might be of for a dive or spin in the inflatable. Not wanting to miss anything I stumbled up on deck still in my jimjams. Not a sign of them anywhere - but as it was such a scenic sunny morning I refrain from returning to my warm cosy bunk. The wind was steadily increasing; Halton creaked, clanged and gurgled. I was just thinking it was a good job we made it here when a shrill alarm sounded from the wheelhouse.

Most of the instruments are mounted high and with my bi-focals difficult to read but I worked out which one was throwing a wobbly and read "You have a message! Press page". Best not I thought and reluctantly woke Angus. He sorted it - no GPS and rumbled back to bed. Some time later alarm sounds again but slightly different in rhythm. This time I press page and it informs me that the anchor is dragging. Get poor old Angus up again. Then he discovers that an electrical fault has occurred and there is no power to start engines. Um…..problem.

Good old Capt Bob appears on the scene. After much fiddling about down in that mysterious hot mechanical hole the fault is found. But not before a second anchor was dropped. It was interesting to see the lads with their heads together working through the various problems, discussing available options and putting plans in to action. They worked calmly as a team and left me to do the panicking. Bob in his bare feet and Angus bare chested. Lovely.

So much for their easy day but by late afternoon they had time to go treasure hunting. They drop me off at a beautiful sandy cove on the delightful Rabbit Island which looked great for exploring. It was so hot on the sands that I could peel off clothes I'd been wearing all week and wade into the cool clear sun dappled sea. Three separate tide lines occupied me for ages. The shells were strewn like jewels along the beach. I soon discovered I was not alone. A constant mewing like a gate hinge needing a drop of oil distracted me from the beachcombing. And there at the top of a rocky cliff sat the culprit - a young buzzard. My close proximity to the bird alarmed its parents and they soared menacingly close overhead. I left them in peace and climbed through sand dunes to find a high vantage point from which to snap the Halton yet again! It looked like a scene from Treasure or Coral Island - boat anchored off a white sandy bay. My daydreams crash landed when the boys came thundering round the bluff in the inflatable.

As I wandered back through the dunes I was amazed at the wild flowers growing amongst the tall sharp grass. Ladies Bedtraw, eye bright. So many butterflies flitted around these blooms. The majority being fritillery but I did spot one or two smaller blue butterflies. It was all rather idyllic in the hot sun and departure time came too soon.

Back on board after dinner I proudly displayed my shell booty. Angus kindly looked them over and named a few. Bob, being a marine biologist, looked faintly bored and threw me an identification book! Angus liked the bright pink one best, Bob wouldn't play the game!

Because we were becoming island baggers Angus and I set off in the inflatable to bag Eilean nan Ron. There is a deserted settlement there - the houses being quite substantial. But compared to the hullaballoo of the bird islands Rona was disturbingly silent and we left quickly. The coast line though was fantastic and we explored all the nooks and crannies, caves, stacks and arches. Dare-devil Angus took the boat right through this gorge that had towering sides and a very narrow spot in the middle. A handful of dark secretive shags peered down from the gloomy shadows to watch our progress. Light was fading fast and the sea becoming silver. Farewell to the selkies - we turned back to the Halton. Well that was the plan. At first I thought Angus was larking about - making the inflatable go round and round in tight circles backwards but no it was the gear linkage that had come undone. Reverse was our only option. The Halton was anchored about a mile and a half away. Although a fairly serious problem we both burst out laughing as we reversed our way down the Kyle of Tongue. Hopefully the darkness hid our rather ridiculous journey from curious onlookers. Half and hour later Angus had a fiddle about with the engine and miraculously persuaded the gears that forward was preferable. At least Bob didn't witness our embarrassing passage.

Investigation established that a nut unscrewed and fell off. This was rather a damned nuisance - the inflatable is an essential piece of kit for ferrying birders and going diving. We did have a spare motor but it was not as suitable. Thinking that it's nut might possibly fit the first engine (seemed like a good idea at the time) the lads removed it and well I wont go into mechanical details but the end result was two engines unusable. So much for a quiet restful day. Only answer was to steam back to Stromness for spare parts!

Arrived Stromness just before 8am. Angus discovered missing nut had conveniently dropped into the actual engine!!!! But not a wasted journey - we got this weeks Orcadian!

Straight back to sea to pick up birders from Skerry and take them to Stack. The plan was to look at sea conditions and decide if it was safe to land birders. This was achieved much to my amazement and they scrambled up the alarmingly sheer rock face in search of gannets. Not too difficult to find really, there were millions of them. But the climb up must have been quite daunting. The rock surface seemed to be covered in either seaweed, slime or stinking white gannet guana. Brave birders indeed. The ringing took up most of the day which gave us time to explore its nether regions in the inflatable. Again quite stunning in geological terms. Sheer rock faces slicing from great depths. In particular nooks and crannies where the surf swelled to and fro, selkies would pop their heads up in the green surf.

Bob had a dive and returned with wonderful stories of colourful anemones and other sea creatures. And amazingly, he was quite excited about a shell he had seen. But alas, not a pretty sea shell - more of a 5ft long missile! Men! Caught enough fish (saithe and mackerel to supplement everyone's diet. They looked beautifully fat health fish (well until we caught the that is - poor things) and tasted good.

Birders ran out of rings (500) and descended the stack safely. But Whoops - Alex bounced off the inflatable and landed in the drink but she managed to take Jez in with her - that lass has style and cunning!. She had the luxury of a hot shower once on board and could wash away eau de gannet.

Return to Skerry, drop off smelly birders and pick up homeward bound smelly birders. Overnight steam to Scrabster.

House martin chicks sticking their heads out of their snug mud nests under the eaves of the Harbour master's office. Secure a lift to take-away from Harbour Master. Top up on supplies, fuel, water, chinese takeaway and new birders. Leave harbour at 10pm relieved to be back at sea and away from the hustle and bustle of Scrabster.

Arrive Sule Skerry about 4am - seas calm. Drop off birders.

Its my birthday!

July 20th My Birthday

Just after sunrise approx 5am, Angus persuaded me to go for a spin in the inflatable. It was a warm, soft gentle morning so I leapt aboard still clad in my pyjamas. Not wanting to get my backside wet I remained standing but held on to the head rope. It was exhilerating, rather like water-skiing In comfort. We explored the coastline of Sule Skerry, spending a while gazing at the young selkies above and under the water. And of course there were the puffins peering down at us. We travelled right around the Skerry and it was the best birthday morning present EVER.

Sometime mid afternoon we arrived back at Gannet Gallery - Sule Stack - and dropped ringers. We have been lucky so far - sea conditions calm enough for them to leap from the inflatable at the rise of the swell. But a difficult task all the same - both for the jumpers and the boatman.

We went for a close inspection of the stack and Margaret and I managed to touch it's sea weedy side. A tiny soft white feather fluttered down just as my fingers made contact with the rock. A fine birthday present from the gannets.

A sharp hard shower of rain put an end to the ringing and made their descent quite treacherous. I was pretty worried watching their progress. My good they smelled quite foul (or gannety!) on board. Four steaming and wet birders stripping off in the galley is not really pleasant but I was happy they were safe. Back to Sule Skerry.

July 21st

After a safe anchorage just off shore of the Skerry overnight I had a wonderful 7 hours sleep. Not so the lads - 2 hour shifts for them.

Angus woke me about 6am with news that the Orcas were back. What a great way to start the day.

There was only 1 pod this time which contained 2 or 3 fine huge finned adults, 4 or 5 smaller and 2 babies. They circled the island all morning and passed by us about every 20 minutes. And I was mesmerised by their antic.

First sight was of the large threatening fins coming round the headland. Then they began to thrash the water with their tails. I could see the splashes although they were quite a distance away.

When they had satisfied themselves with whatever it is they were doing their journey towards us continued.

Usually a large adult would lead the way, hugging the coastline, I think by the shape of his fin that it was a male Orca. He slowly explored the territory with huge wheeling surfacing. The noise he made exhaling was fantastic.

A group of 4-6 adolescents behaved quite differently. The energy of their movements reminded me of a bunch of naughty boys: horsing around. They tail thrashed regularly and the thwack echoed loudly on the calm waters. Every geo and inlet was investigated and my heart went out to the selkies. Occasionally we were treated to a complete breach, their whole body surging up and crashing back with great splashes. They tumbled and rolled about and it appeared that they were having great fun.

Two larger adolescents, both males, (I know this because they seemed to be sexually aroused!) often arrived together. They frolicked around one and another, often gracefully folding their rolling bodies together. (I saw one swimming upside down with its two flippers sticking up in the air. I wonder if this was a female). There was some superb manoeuvres, rolling and breaching together like synchronised swimmers. On one of their island circuits they romped about quite close to the boat , seeming oblivious to our presence. I had a fine view of them for several breathtaking minutes.

Well, as you can see, Mary has not finished writing up all that happened. I suppose the trials and tribulations of civilised life took up all her time when we got back from the trip. She has promised to finish the account, so when she does I will update this page. In the meantime we can only speculate: does the fair maiden run away with the dashing, yet darkly handsome officer or does love rule the day with the grizzly seaman from below deck.....