The Summer Isles and the seals

It’s a funny feeling, being in the middle of no where, not hearing much noise, and yet you feel as if you are being watched by a hundred pairs of eyes. Then slowly they started to show themselves. What I had presumed were stones in the middle of the seaweed were in fact seals.



I cut the engine and started to row quietly towards a little island. Curiosity got the better of them and they started to follow the inflatable.



There were grey seals, at least I think they were grey as they had roman noses and wide apart nostrils as well as looking a little grey.



Then there were the common seals, they have a more dog shaped forehead and nose with nostrils in a “v” formation.



Once my eyes tuned into the seal shape, I couldn’t help notice that they were everywhere.



I rowed over to a small coral and sandstone beach and landed to watch the seals play.



A couple followed me in the water, as I walked along the beach then turned quickly sending a large wet splash in my direction with a flip of their tails. I climbed to the highest point on the small island and took this photograph looking north east towards the mainland



I then turned and took this photo looking back up the channel between Tanera Mor and Tanera Beg.



That’s when I felt I was being watched all over again, with a different kind of eye. The tour boats had started to arrive.



Just like the seals, once one appeared, they all seemed to appear from everywhere. Their passengers had roman noses and dog shaped foreheads with twitching nostrils too, or perhaps it was just my imagination ?

Tanera Beg and the cave

The next feature that I had hoped to see was Cathedral Cave on the south west side of the island. The choppy swell on the exposed south put me off a circular tour to reach the cave so I tried backtracking and then going through the channel in the shelter of the north side of the island. A lovely yacht had moored there over night. Im certain it could make Priest Island and beyond with no problems at all.



Rounding the north west corner of Tanera Beg, my little inflatable started to bob on the waves again.



I headed towards the south of the island in the relative shelter of the cliffs until I reached the rocky point in this photo. Unfortunately, as soon as I rounded the point the choppy swell really made my head spin so I spun the boat around and decided Cathedral cave could wait for another day.

Perhaps I could have made the cave without any problems but I preferred to respect my ability and I know my experience of the boat is still very much in a learning curve. Since my Gigha trip, I now carried a couple of distress flares but had no intentions of finding out if anyone would see them and rescue me if I swamped the little craft.

Yup..call me a coward if you must :-D



As soon as the boat started to surf with the waves behind me again, I started to relax and enjoy the experience. I love the feel of the boat being pickup up by a wave and carried forward at speed until the boat starts to loose momentum as it slides down the back of the wave, only to catch a ride on the next wave. I kept a sharp eye open for rocks just below the surface as it could be a major disaster to have the inflatable dropped onto one as it slips into the trough between waves.



Soon I was back in the calm waters in the shelter of the Summer Isles. Looking back at the towering cliffs on the west of Tarera Beg , I was glad I didn’t have to try a crash landing on the west of the island




I put out my trolling line again and almost immediately caught a large Pollack about the three pound mark. I would have gladly swapped it for a much smaller mackerel so I returned it to the sea to swim another day.

Looking over to the mainland, I was surprised to see an unrecognisable mountain? Until I realised it was actually two mountains. Stac Polly with Cul Mor directly behind it, I had not seen that sea perspective of my favourite mountain before.




I was now slowly cruising around the rocky reefs between Tanera Mor and Tanera Beg. Things were beginning to look a bit brighter as the sun started to break through the haze. The cormorants all stood to attention like a line little soldiers as I sailed on past.




Then, for some unknown reason I felt as if a hundred eyes were watching me.....

The Summer Isles and the Arch of Tanera Beg

When I awoke, a steady breeze was blowing onshore from the south. The channel between the mainland and the Summer Isles looked quite peaceful so I blew up my boat and set off on the crossing to Tanera Mor



I took this photograph looking back to the mainland from mid channel. The white houses of Polbain stood out against the dark hillside which was still in early morning shadow.



I then headed down the channel between Tanera Mor and Tanera Beg. I was now heading straight into the wind and waves which splashed over the front of the inflatable. Although I got a little damp I wasn’t too concerned. I was heading for the sandstone arch on the south east side of Tanera Beag. Nearing the rocky point where the arch was, the water looked quite choppy on the exposed south side.



The chop soon had me bouncing about like a little cork when I cleared the island to get a good view of the arch. In fact I started to worry a little as this was the biggest waves I had been in. I waited for a wide trough between them before turning the boat.



I took around a dozen photos of the arch to make sure I got a decent shot that wouldn’t be blurred by the movement of the boat. I’m glad I did as I only got a couple of sharp pictures.



I wasn’t going to attempt entering the arch in case the boat burst on the rocks in the swell. I only had seconds to get my photos as the wind and waves quickly swept me back into the channel.



There was a little sheltered bay in the channel not far from the arch so I pulled over and landed. It was safer to see the arch from the land than by the sea.



I climbed to the highest point on the south of Tanera Beg and looked over the sea to the further away Summer Isles



I knew it would be foolish to even think of crossing that part of the sea so I happily used the zoom lens to get my photographs of Priest Island



Then I used the wide angle lens to capture the sea arch from the landward side.

Stac Polly again

The last time I climbed Stac Polly, was in the summer of 2009. This time I parked in the large car park at the foot of the hill. Sadly the feeling of remoteness and adventure that I felt 30 years ago was no longer there. I couldn’t get lost as long as I kept to the path that was almost like a stone pavement.



I took the staircase to the ridge and must confess, the views were still astounding. This photo of Suilven was taken with a digital camera that I could only dream of in 1980. The weather was perfect and the forecast was spot on.



I wasn’t with my brothers this time. I was with my friend.. It was her first trip to Stac Polly but she didn’t feel like it was a forgotten world. “It’s a quaint little hill” she said. I guess we were still posers though. At the end of the day.. we wild camped by the little loch near the main road. Im glad to say, It was still far from the madding crowd. That night as I watched the sun set over the Inver Polly reserve... I couldn’t help but wonder... what would Stac Polly would be like in another thirty years ?



Then I awoke from my daydreaming of times gone past and headed for the shore front of Achilitbuie. I parked on the green that night and fell asleep dreaming of going round the Summer Isles in the morning.

Returning to the Summer Isles and some lost memories

I stopped at Ullapool on my way from Loch Hourn to Achiltibuie. I was still trying to live off the sea as much as possible by eating the fish that I caught and collecting berries and shellfish to supplement my “seagull diet” however the smell of the Ullapool chip shop was too much for me. I bought a bag of chips and sat with the other tourists beside the harbour.



I mused at the seagulls now known locally as “Fish’n’chip gulls. They have long lost their natural instincts of feeding by catching fish. Instead they wait patiently for the tourists to throw them the leftovers of their fish suppers. The gulls certainly look healthy enough on their high cholesterol diet but I couldn’t help wonder how long it would be before they eventually forgot how to fly ? I guess its all part of the wonders of evolution.



I stopped at Ardmair Bay for a photograph of Ben Mor Coigach rising steeply from the other side of the water. This area has long been my favourite region in the whole of Scotland.



I stopped for another photograph of Stac Pollaidh from the side of Loch Lurgainn. Its not the best photo I have taken of Stac Polly but seeing the mountain before me again started recalling some long lost memories.



A little further along the road I stopped to admire its steep rugged eroded plateau as my mind started to drifted back to thirty years ago.



It was a bitterly cold December day. The mist swirled along the summit ridge and the wind howled through eerie pinnacles that looked more like gargoyles than rock spires. I imagined I was approaching the Lost World, an inaccessible plateau where time stood still. A place where dinosaurs still roamed, devouring anything and anybody that managed to scale the cliffs. I had never seen such an awe inspiring mountain before in my life. Was that an eagle I saw circling looking for carrion, or was it a pterodactyl ?

In those days few people ventured into the remote highlands. There was no car park or signs informing that the mountain was suffering from erosion. There was no obvious path to follow and certainly there was not a stone stairway accessing the northern slopes. My brothers and I abandoned the car in a passing place and made our way across the heather slopes. We were hoping to access the summit ridge by the scree gully that held the lobster’s claw.



We had seen pictures of it in one of WA Pouchers photo books of Scotland and decided we wanted to see it for ourselves. The top three or four feet had already fallen since Poucher’s photo. That part was two little spires which looked like the pincers of a claw, hence the name given to the pinnacle. This is the photo I took of the remaining part in 1980. Sadly… I believe it has long gone so, anyone who ventures onto the ridge now will no longer see it



I guess people like myself who clambered all over the soft sandstone ridge would have accelerated the natural erosion but in those days we never gave it a moments thought. We thought mountains lasted forever, in fact at that age we thought life lasted forever. This photo taken amongst the pinnacles suggests we were nothing short of posers.



We didn’t care for weather forecasts as they were very unpredictable in those days. It didn’t bother us as we ventured out in all kinds of weather. We hadn’t heard of gore tex clothing or shell suits. We climbed in jeans and jackets that were no better than todays pac-a-macs, but we knew the benefit of layers and wore oiled woollen balaclavas and mitts to keep warm. We feared nothing, we even tried to climb the lobster claw ..but it was smooth and featureless. Perhaps the lead in the water pipes that fed our houses had given us brain damage ?



We never stopped to think of the consequences our actions would have had on the hillsides. The only rule we followed was to take all our litter home. The best part of the day was glissading down the scree slopes on the way home. Im sure we raised clouds of dust on the steep fast descents. I have not done that in years, I guess all the decent scree slopes have long ended up at the bottom with generations of walkers using them to get off the tops. I couldn’t help feeling a little sad that those days were long gone too. Perhaps evolution isn't so wonderful after all ?

Loch Hourn and paradise

Not long after the eagle chase, the clouds began to part and shafts of sun light illuminated the surrounding hillsides. I remembered how impressed I was on my maiden voyage on Loch Etive, getting a seals eye view of its towering mountains but this was even more remote and spectacular.



Some of the hillsides were still covered in ancient oak forest clinging to steep slopes where no paths have ever gone. I saw several deer slink silently through the dark shadows but there was no signs of humans.



I made my way to the end of Loch Hourn by following its northern banks then started the return journey by following its southern side.



There was once a small village at Skiary but only the one cottage remains inhabited today.



Its dwarfed by the heights of the surrounding hills. Although it looked a very pleasant place to stay in summer, it will be a different story come winter.



Shortly after passing Skiary, the wind started to blow a bit and waves quickly appeared on the surface of the loch. I wasted no time in heading back to the narrows at Coalas Mor as I knew the wind would be against the tide and it could get very choppy. However it was a breeze passing through as the wind started to drop again. I was pleased to see it had blown the remaining clouds away




That’s when the locals came out to play on the loch. Its only when their boat gives some scale to the surrounding hills that you get the real feel of their height.



I landed at a little bay to stretch my legs and also for a little sun bathing. It was great to see that lovely green sheen on the water again.



I sat on the rocks for ages, soaking in the huge views in front of me. The only thing that seemed to move in this vast landscape was the tide as it slowly drained the water away. Then it seemed to give up and the water started to rise again.



I was as happy as a sand boy as I made my way past Corran again. I didn’t have a care in the world. Time seemed to stand still in this ageless place.



The early morning midges had gone by the time I got back to Arnisdale. Loch Hourn in this kind of weather was no loch from hell. It was paradise.



I landed and deflated the inflatable, packed everything away and then made my way to the Summer Isles .....