Deep peace of the running waves to you

At the end of October I went for a wee jaunt to the Inner Hebrides; namely the islands of Mull and Iona. Iona has a significant religious history, but my reason for visiting was to take a boat trip to an uninhabited island called Staffa nearby. Staffa is a geological freak, and for centuries has been a famous ‘oo-er’ destination for travellers and tourists, including Felix Mendelsohn. The result of his cruise through the Hebrides was his famous “Fingal’s Cave Overture”, one of my earliest loves. It was my escape from teenage angst and sadness. Now I finally had the chance to visit the ‘source’, to see, smell, taste and touch what I’d been hearing for so long.

It was the last week in the year that boat operators still run, and I’d been told many times not to get my hopes up too much that the weather would be ok for the trips to go ahead, let alone land their passengers. But I was most truly blessed; I’d allowed 3 nights on Iona in the hope that I’d get a break in the weather, and on my first day there I awoke to clear blue sky and sun, a brisk but not gale force wind and the assurance that the morning’s trip would go ahead.

There were about 15 of us on the wee boat, and at first I thought I had a prime spot, seated on the back edge. Then once we sailed beyond the lee of Iona and had the full brunt of the Atlantic (on a ‘calmer’ day) I had to make a quick getaway to the covered front half. It rained a little (clear mornings mean nothing in the Hebrides particularly; wind and clouds are swift!) but there was more risk of getting a drenching from the odd wave washing over the boat. The swell made the trip as fun as an amusement park ride, although I did feel sorry for the 3 or 4 poor passengers who were seasick.

Approaching the island was so exciting. Impossible that these columns and pillars of rock are simply a random chance of nature (Giant’s Causeway in Ireland is a similar phenomenon). I was very apprehensive that we wouldn’t be able to land, or that it would be safe to visit the cave.

We held our breath as our ancient mariner brought the boat round to the landing. He decided it was safe, but that we could only have 45 minutes as the wind and waves were picking up. Success!!From this point onwards I’m going to let the pictures tell the story. Much as I try I’m not so good with words to tell more than events and details (although the length of my journal entries show how hard I try! Maybe too hard?!). Staffa and Fingal’s cave were a sense-based experience for me; I wish I could share the senses but I can’t. Come with me next time!