Corryvreckan Wildlife Tour - Guest Post by Emma Gibb
I clung for dear life to begin with, knuckles white at the sudden speed with which we were literally flying across the water. We bumped over the waves with such force that it felt as if we were skimming over a hard surface, on a sea turned to stone. I soon adjusted to the speed with which we were zipping along, drinking in the rugged island-dotted seascape and focussing on the search for wildlife in the waters around me.
I was on board one of the Seafari ribs, bound for the Corryvreckan Whirlpool (the third largest in the world) that lies to the north of Jura. The skies had been sea-like throughout the morning, moving in swells of grey. I had asked my toddler to blow the clouds away for mummy's boat trip (which he dutifully tried to do, bless him, blowing at the sky as if it was hot soup) and although there were a few pockets of brightness when we set off, they moved in and out of the greyness throughout the two hour trip, as elusive as the seals that darted and ducked between the waves.
I can honestly say that I didn't mind when the occasional shower rolled over us. As much as I would have loved the sun to warm my face and light this new landscape, it seemed fitting that I experienced an area of Scotland known for its slate quarries when greyness gripped the day. The wildlife tour leaves from Ellenabeich on the Isle of Seil, a short hop from Easdale, and passes the islands of Belnahua and Luing - all of which were 'Slate Islands' (you can find out more about the history of the slate industry in the Easdale Island Folk Museum and the Slate Islands Heritage Trust in Ellenabeich). Being a history geek, I loved that the wildlife tour combined local history - our guide, Ben, highlighted points of interest and fed us snippets of island stories throughout our journey. My favourites were the tales of a white sand beach that was blown up to stop people from visiting its lovely shore, the lighthouse-keeper who decided when his daughter went to school based on the roughness of the sea, and the boys on Belnahua whose job it was to throw slate stones at hungry seagulls when herring was washed up on the beach.
We journeyed down the corridor between Easdale and Jura, slowing down to spot wildlife (red deer, common seals, gannets, shags, porpoises, wild goats and - with binoculars - a sea eagle's nest). Just north of the island of Scarba we were given a taste of the whirlpool to come, whisked through Little Corryvreckan (or 'Grey Dogs' as this passage is also known).
Instead of directing my camera solely towards the water, I found myself taking photo after photo of the land - with the afternoon soaked in slate-grey, it made the oranges and yellows of the hills leap out at me. I was almost spell-bound by the colours of the landscape; the lined rock and leopard-print hillsides. Ok, I admit I would not complain one bit if the skies had been blue
behind the hunched island mounds; if the deep green of the sea had shimmered in sunlight; if the sea spray that showered me during the boat ride
had been dried by the warm caress of sun rays.
But actually, the landscape suited this weather; the rugged land dotted with cottage ruins, the layered colours of the rock, the crags up which red deer scrambled, the whispers of once busy slate quarries.. it made it all even more atmospheric. Ben at one point said of the forest we were
drifting in front of that it was thought to 'resemble what the forests of
Scotland would have once looked like’.
And it did make me imagine days gone by (the same way my trip through Milford Sound did in New
Zealand – incidentally, also on a very cloudy day). If, I thought, it looked this beautiful on a grey day, how mesmerising must it be in the sunshine...
Just before we arrived at the Corryvreckan Whirlpool, we spotted a number of porpoise fins arching out of the water (unfortunately, unlike dolphins, porpoises are content to just poke their fin above water and don't leap out for the delight of happy-snappers like me). It was wonderful to see them quite close to the boat (which only happened when my camera was lowered, of course) and I was still scouring the waters for more fins when I noticed that the water was incredibly calm in the pool around us but waves were breaking at its edge. This was the famous whirlpool - and it is every bit as amazing as I had heard. Again, the murky skies added to the experience, with sudden brightness clashing eerily with a stream of dark clouds as I watched the tides colliding. It is described as 'a step in the Atlantic' and although my photos don't do it justice, it is, extraordinarily, on two levels. It is quite a sight to behold - almost as if there's an invisible barrier between the flat calm section and the ripples and waves. With food swirled around by the tidal activity, it was no surprise that this was a great place for wildlife spotting - as well as the porpoises there were gannets circling overhead and a seal that bobbed alongside us.
Many thanks to Ben and Steve for a truly breath-taking trip!
You can read more from Emma on her blog - Emma Explores Scotland - and follow her on Twitter @emmajrgibb.
