On a misty, almost windless morning, we left Kinlochbervie and headed away from the mainland towards the Western Isles. At the start we took a minor detour so we could pass near to Handa Island. Its sheer cliffs stand up almost vertically out of the sea, and beneath the water level the rock continues its steep profile, which means that on a calm day like this we could bring the boat in very close to the reddish rockface. This is a haven for sea-birds of many kinds. They were nesting on the guano-streaked cliffs, wheeling in the sky above us, and bobbing on the surface of the sea: puffins, guillemots, razorbills, gannets, and probably others I couldn’t identify. Their cries filled the air.
After enjoying the sights and sounds for a few minutes, we set off again to cross the Minch, the sea that divides the Western Isles from the mainland. The Western Isles, also known as the Outer Hebrides, are a chain of islands stretching well over a hundred miles from the Butt of Lewis in the north to Berneray in the south. Separated from the rest of Scotland by an often stormy sea, these islands have their own culture and history: a high percentage of the inhabitants speak Gaelic as well as English, and many still make their living out of the traditional crafts of crofting, fishing, and weaving the world-famous Harris Tweed. We were making our way to the largest town, Stornoway.
Athough the Minch has a reputation for sometimes being rough, on the day we crossed it there was barely any wind, and the sea was flat. The day started grey and misty, the visibility only so-so, and the horizon was merging into the sky, pale grey on pale grey. It’s 40-odd miles from Handa Island to Stornoway; with no wind we had to motor, and the passage would take us about seven hours. Not for the first time, the automatic pilot known as Marvin came into his own, steering an unfailingly straight course across the Minch while the rest of us kept a lookout or sat below snoozing or reading.
After a while the visibility improved, but there was still a certain greyness in the air and in the sea. There was no chance of sailing in this calm. The mainland faded to grey behind us, and the coast of Lewis started to emerge ahead. On passage we saw plenty of wildlife: seals, dolphins leaping bodily out of the water, the curved black back of some kind of whale (I think minke). And plenty of puffins, which dived when Goldfinch came close with her chugging engine spoiling their peace.
When we arrived at Stornoway harbour I was informed by the harbourmaster that a large tanker ship was about to depart, so Goldfinch had to hang around by the edge of the harbour so as not to get in the way of the ship. Once the tanker had gone we could carry on into the marina, where we tied up about half past five in the afternoon.
The marina at Stornoway is not huge, and is located right in the centre of the town with a view over the water to Lews Castle, an impressive-looking pile that looks medieval but was built in the 1860s for Sir James Matheson, a Victorian laird who, having made a fortune out of opium, bought the whole island of Lewis and treated its people ruthlessly, sparking riots and protests.
Near the waterfront in Stornoway, where the shore covers and uncovers with the tide, there is a series of wooden stakes stuck into the ground in the shape of a ship’s hull. This is a memorial to the Iolaire, which sank at the beginning of 1919, having struck the Beasts of Holm, a group of rocks at the entrance to the harbour. The ship (which had been built as a pleasure-yacht) was full to bursting with servicemen returning home from the Great War. There were some survivors, but many lost their lives; it was the worst peace-time shipping disaster in home waters.
From Stornoway we took a bus to the Stones of Callanish on the western side of the island. There are three groups of standing stones here, and the people in the Tourist Information Centre in Stornoway had given me a map with a suggested walk that took us to each group in turn, ending with the largest and most impressive. It was a scorching hot day, and as well as enjoying the stones we had spectacular views across the hilly landscape of Lewis. On the way back, the bus took a longer route and we were able to glimpse even more of the island.
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