West Highlands, 2022 – 3

Tags

Ben Nevis, Caledonian MacBrayne, Corran ferry, Devil's toenails, Gleann Gael, grey seal, gryphea, Isle of Mull, Kingairloch, Loch Aline, Loch Linnhe, Loch Uisge, Lochaline, Lochaline Mine, Morvern, otter, pine marten, red deer, red-breasted merganser, sika deer, Sound of Mull, stonechat, whinchat

Tuesday, 13th September. Today, having passed through Fort William, we went down the eastern side of Loch Linnhe (pronounced ‘Linnie’) to its narrows, where we crossed the loch by the Corran ferry, enjoying the view of the lighthouse on the other side.

After the narrows the sea loch is much wider. We followed it southwards.

Looking back

Looking forward

Red-breasted merganser

Common seal ‘banana-ing’

Distant red deer

At one stop along the loch I was pleased to have my 2007 Open University geology revised. I had never realised that Ben Nevis was an extinct volcano.

We left the Linnhe at one point to visit a small lochan (that’s tautologous) with a very long name in Gallic.

Whinchat and stonechat by the lochan

Back beside the Linnhe, I was delighted to see a seal come in to cavort in the rocks and weed. It was some way away, and rather difficult to photograph, but these are my two best pictures.

Our packed lunch was taken at Kingairloch,

from where we made our way inland on the Morvern peninsula to Lochaline, on the Sound of Mull. We had on the way passed Loch Whisky and Gleann Gael. [Linguistic note!: I wrote ‘Whisky’ in my notebook, because that’s what I thought I was being was told, being assured that it was its real name, and that ‘whisky’ means ‘water’ in Gallic. I was being teased to a certain extent. On the map I find it is spelt ‘Loch Uisge’. And ‘uisge’ does indeed mean water, ‘uisge beatha’, the water of life, being the Gallic for ‘whisky’.]

Distant sika deer, and sheep

Isle of Mull behind the ferry

We walked away from the Sound, and made our way a short distance along Loch Aline off it, past a fascinating sand mine and its works.

There was some waste sand lying around. On picking it up we could see and feel just how very white, fine and soft it was, quite unlike any I had encountered on a beach.

I would love to have had a visit round the works, not to mention the mine itself!

David and Jon (hidden behind his telescope), look at the storage

Conveyor belts

Sand just about to be dumped onto a conveyor belt

We walked on.

Tern of some sort being photobombed from the front by a young gull

I then got absorbed into the next activity and totally forgot to take any photos of it. There were literally hundreds of ‘devil’s toenails’ on the beach. David collected several. Devil’s toenails are fossils of bivalves, gryphea, about two inches, 5 centimetres, long. And here’s a (copyright-free) picture of one found on the internet..

Time to go home the way we came.

This evening a pine marten visited even before our meal, so it was possible to get some semi-daylight pictures through the glass.

Clearly not worried by us, as long as we stayed we we were. We could even move around.

Cornwall 2022 – 6. St Ives, Pt 1

Tags

Atlantic grey seal, Canada goose, Carbis Bay, grey seal, Herring gull, Mute swan, oystercatcher, Porthmeor Beach, Saving Lives at Sea, Seal Island, St Erth, St IVes, The Carricks, The Little Mermaid St Ives

Thursday 30th June. Lovely at 6.30 a.m., and warm enough for me to leave the doors open as I get back into bed.

Sweet!

Uh-oh! He’s back.

Hey!

Enough is enough! Shoo!

Time anyway for me to get up. But I’ll just go out on to the patio, lean on the rail for a bit, and see what’s going on.

Oystercatcher

The swan still consorting with the shelduck

He’s back again. But seems settled. (I should have noticed which way he was looking though.)

I return to the Oystercatcher.

And notice that the Herring gull is no longer on the rail, so turn round, just in case.

Hey!!! Off you go!!!

To my left, the train I’m planning to catch a bit later. I was intending to spend the day in St Ives, and going by car would not be a sensible thing to do, because of parking problems. All I needed to do was walk the 15 minutes to St Erth station to catch that train, which shuttled between the two stations every half hour. And I’m promised a great scenic ride…

I buy my day return for £2.60 (inc. senior railcard) and settle into a nearly empty train, enjoying the views along the coast for the 10 minutes it takes to get to St Ives, with just one stop, at Carbis Bay.

Very changeable weather

I had allowed plenty of time before my only actual ‘appointment’ of the day, 10.30. The evening before, fancying a boat trip, I had booked a trip to ‘Seal Island’, but was concerned about the weather forecast. I needed, not even having one at home, a light rainproof jacket. It took me a while to find one, but having done so I made my way to the rendezvous point, by the lifeboat station. A great fan of the TV programme, ‘Saving Lives at Sea’, I had to take a photo of the impressive craft.

Seeing a man with a clipboard, I asked him was he Derek. He replied in the affirmative and asked if I was Venetia. Were there so few bookings that he could be so sure, I asked him. “Only four, but don’t worry. [I wasn’t; in fact I thought it would be rather good to share the boat with so few.] I’ll have many more by the time the boat sails.” And went on to say that business had been very bad the previous two days, since they’d not been able to go out because of the bad weather. Which made me feel rather guilty at my selfish thought.

He pointed me to the other side of the harbour,

and asked me to be at the jetty by 11.05. Which I was, along with many other people waiting for several other boats. We had to wait for quite a while. There was quite a swell beyond the harbour apparently, and the sea was not playing ball to let people get from the jetty onto the tenders that were to take us to the boats, in my case ‘The Little Mermaid.’ And yes, Derek had indeed rustled up eight more people to make up the full complement of 12 passengers allowed on board.

There was nervousness for some about moving from tender to boat, but no accident.

Once out of the harbour, The Little Mermaid was indeed bounced around quite a bit, but I – even though inclined to sea sickness – was OK, and thoroughly enjoyed the ride.

I was glad of my new rain jacket, which served as a good windcheater. Fortunately, none of the threatened showers actually happened.

After about 20 minutes we arrived at one of the correctly named ‘Carracks‘, (from the Cornish for ‘rocks’) nicknamed ‘Seal Island’, where we stayed and observed these Atlantic grey seals, some of whom seemed interested in us,

but most of whom just lazed around in the sun.

It was time to return along the choppy sea.

Porthmeor Beach

The next passengers await. But first the tender must take us back to the jetty.

It was only shortly past midday by now, and I had several more hours to spend in the resort.

Travelling again – 4. Roseisle, Burghead and Lochindorb

Tags

Burghead, chickweed-wintergreen, David Lindo, dog whelk, fulmar, Grant Arms Hotel, Grantown-on-Spey, grey seal, house martin, lex ferenda, Lochindorb, Moray Firth, Nigel Marven, oystercatcher, ribwort plantain, Roseisle, sandpiper, yellowhammer

This stay at the Grant Arms Hotel in Grantown-on-Spey, and the visits either side of it, had been deferred from almost exactly the same dates in 2020, because, of course, of Covid-19. I had been intending to use the hotel’s full information resources, in the form of both human advice and enormous amounts of written material, to plan each day’s activity. But this time, the wildlife hotel had a ‘celebrity week’ on for four of my five full days based there, which was a real bonus, especially since these are usually a good deal more expensive, but this one was free. David Lindo, the ‘Urban Birder’ of BBC 1’s The One Show, was meant to be there, but he was stuck in Spain because of quarantine problems, so Nigel Marven, wildlife producer and presenter, who had already been ‘the celebrity’ a few weeks earlier, was asked to step in and replace David.

Each morning and afternoon, there was a choice of outings with Nigel or with other local experts, for which one booked in advance, numbers being limited on each. On a normal celebrity week, the group would be transported in a mini van, but at this period we had to make our own way to the meeting point, no sharing with anyone with whom one was not in a ‘bubble’ or household. On this, my first full day, Friday 11th June, I opted for Roseisle in the morning and Burghead in the afternoon, each with Nigel. The former is in Burghead Bay, on the southern side of the Moray Firth, about a hour from Grantown, and Burghead itself is on a point at the eastern end of its eponymous bay, about 35 miles to the east and a bit north of Inverness.

About twelve of us gathered here,

and walked a few yards to here.

(See the WW2 detritus)

We saw nothing of wildlife interest, and started walking gently along the coastline, alternating between forest and beach.

Three oystercatchers, five rocks, a beach and the sea

A House martin

Sometimes – often – I take pictures just because the image pleases me.

Nigel found a dog whelk egg case

This yellowhammer was a very long way off, and just wouldn’t move for us a to get better view.

Chickweed-wintergreen, though it is neither chickweed nor wintergreen. It is also known as Arctic starflower.

Ribwort plantain

We moved on to Burghead.

This was my first impression.

And this my second. It was not a particularly warm afternoon, and I felt cold just looking at these women.

Clearly still an active fishing village.

I was fascinated by this clearly Latin name. I’ve since found that it means ‘Law [yet] to be made [and should be]’. The boat carrying it was obviously not a new one, and I wondered what message the name was meant to be sending. Were the boat more recent, I would link its name with the Brexit deal.

A grey seal appeared.

Its surroundings reflecting a red van back up on the quayside.

We leant looking out to the other side of the Moray Firth for a while but saw nothing of interest. I was just enjoying myself being outdoors in clean air.

A short walk brought us to the other side of the point,

where a Fulmar was the only thing of wildlife interest that we saw. Not bad though.

Our leaders gave up, and added the bonus of a visit to Lochindorb, only a little way off the route back to the hotel. (Indeed, I had been here two years ago on my previous visit to Grantown. It rained then.) The waves show how windy it was. And it was very cold!

This sandpiper was hanging around.

And after about 20 minutes freezing in the cold, we realised why. Just a few feet in front of us was this chick. A quick photo, and off we scuttled.

It had been a strange day for me socially. After fifteen months of almost solitary confinement – I exaggerate a little but I’ve certainly not been used to doing things in largish groups – I was still very wary, and the whole experience seemed very weird. But a bizarre reminder of ‘normality’ at the same time.

After another excellent dinner – food at the Grant Arms Hotel is really good – I had a quiet evening in front of the telly in my room and looking at my photos. My more comforting, current, normal, normality.