Animal magic

Sunday was a warm sunny day in the shadow of the green hills overlooking Dunstaffnage marina. We filled up the diesel tank to 180 litres for the journey ahead and diligently cleaned the yacht before the arrival of our good friends Alison and Tim.  Once they'd climbed on board we made a giant Irish stew and gave them the necessary briefings about the heads, the housekeeping and safety, washed down with the Laphroaig whisky we'd bought in Islay for crew's treat. 

Monday began foggy. We were off on an organised boat trip back to Staffa and the Treshnish Isles, both of which we'd passed in SIRENA IV at high speed in big winds and waves. We got on a ferry at Oban to take us to Craignure on Mull and then overland to our boat for the isles.

Getting close!

Fingal's Cave from on land

The boat was a chunky little affair called Island Lass skippered by a smiling chap in yellow wellies. We set off at about 15 knots steaming towards the strange block of basalt called Staffa, home of Fingal's Cave. The skipper took us so close in that we were almost driving into the cave, great glassy green waves curling around us and the Fingal's cave theme by Mendelsohn playing all the while. Next he took us to the tiny landing stage and we climbed along the strange pillars of basalt which echoed what we'd seen at the Giants Causeway in Northern Ireland. The four of us took the well worn path around the side of the cave and inside where we could see the cathedral like interior, made up of pentagonal pillars of shiny dark volcanic rock. 

After an hour it was back to Island Lass and we headed to Lunga, one of the Treshnish isles. If Staffa had been extraordinary, Lunga was awe inspiring. We scrambled up our first cliff walk and were plunged into Puffin World. These cheeky clown-like birds were popping up from their burrows like clockwork toys, only feet away from the humans who were photographing them.  They were charming beyond words, except when they decided to have a projectile poo into the air behind them. There were other birds including skuas and fulmars and shags. The grassy cliffs were dotted with bluebells and primrose and daisy,  and through the mist you could see the surf of neighbouring rocks and hundreds of puffins bobbing on the water. It was a strange and blissful place and the two hours there flew by.

Back on the boat,  the show was not over yet. We saw grey seals basking on a rock, stags outlined against a crag - and most unbelievable of all, a huge white-tailed sea eagle perched on a dead tree. 

It had been a day of completely calm seas, which is the only time you can land on the islands. We all felt so lucky that the weather had made it possible. Maybe someday we will come back on SIRENA IV to anchor off the islands and land there again.