We had assumed that our two weeks in the Hebrides would as windy and damp as our previous two visits. There was the odd day where I could cringe up a creek in search of an otter or enjoy the cheerful chatter of a colony of Arctic Terns. But it was always wind, wind, wind.
There was never a hope of venturing offshore to look for a dolphin.
This year was very different indeed. The sun shone and the winds were often so light that the sea surface was like velvet.
The beaches glowed and were as inspiring as any I had ever seen anywhere in the world.
The trip kicked off nicely with a Minke Whale surfacing less than half-a-mile offshore just as the Calmac ferry was approaching Arinagour, Coll’s only village. Although the sea then chopped up a little bit I felt compelled to paddle out in my kayak to investigate later in the day. I was a little uneasy in unfamiliar waters and a stiff tidal current, but enjoyed the company of a very energetic pod of dolphins which sent the sandeels scattering.
By sheer luck I happened to be glancing in the right direction when the whale surfaced. It was completely silent and I only saw it once. Always a thrill and my first kayak-seen whale of the year.
The shelter of the inner bay also contained some of my favourite marine creatures. A whole load of Harbour Seals studied me closely as I slid silently past, doing my best not to frighten them. Some barked, one in the water started leaping in the manner of a dolphin, but most just loafed.
When their skins are dried out they reveal very attractive markings, as good as the most expensive polished granite kitchen work-surface.
The soundtrack of the harbour were the Arctic Terns who made a little island in the middle of the bay their base. They maintain a cheerful chatter from dawn until dusk, yipping and ‘kaaaing’ to each other constantly.
They are as beautiful as they are vocal…silky-greyish white with a black beret and blood-red beak and legs.
They have a long forked tail which gives them the local name ‘Sea Swallow’. Like Swallows they are graceful and floaty in the air and they need to be, because they migrate further than any other bird on the planet…all the way down to Antarctica.
So just about everything to do with an Arctic Tern is remarkable.
They are even more photogenic when posing amongst the flush of Sea Pinks on their favourite island. This one was bringing in a sandeel as a courtship gift for a mate.
Not wanting to be outdone by the terns amongst the bed of coloured flowers were a variety of other waders. Snipe, Redshank, Lapwing and Oystercatcher were all nesting nearby.
Oystercatchers match the terns with their relentless chatter and piping, but are very much louder. There is nothing shy and retiring about Oystercatchers. They are full-on…all of the time.
The next day was quieter out to sea.
Quiet until we were just packing up to go, that is. Henry was on the shore looking through binoculars while I had been paddling around in a random fashion a mile offshore. Just a couple of Puffins to keep me entertained.
I couldn’t ring him to say I had a numb backside and was calling it a day because there was no phone reception, so I paddled to the shore to tell him face to face (how very retro). I was just about to open my mouth when he gasped and pointed behind me. He had just seen a couple of very large fins, with his naked eye, over half-a-mile away across the bay.
My numbness forgotten, I sped off to investigate and before long could indeed see two large black fins at the surface. What on earth were they? Weird, because they were more or less stationary. Orca or Basking Shark went through my mind. As I approached I could see that they were attached to a whitish body so these were in fact Risso’s Dolphins, which seemed to be taking a nap (logging).
They really are a big dolphin and the size of the dorsal fin is always a surprise.
I kept well back as I didn’t want to mess up their afternoon powernap, but they were soon on their way and heading straiight towards me.
Fab, they surged right past.
Risso’s Dolphins seemed to like the deep water that was very close offshore, which was presumably home to cuttlefish and other cephalopods that they like to eat. They are known to be an offshore species, but my next encounter was about as close to the shore as you could imagine.
Henry called me (on Becky’s phone!) to say there was a pod of Risso’s on the way around the headland. I was watching an otter at the time so my arrival on the scene was delayed. As I appeared around the corner I was immediately confronted with seven very large fins heading directly towards me, so I completely froze and the dolphins, most of which appeared entirely white, cruised past. Although they were at a leisurely speed they are big and beefy creatures and my jaw was hanging slack in awe and wonderment.
A really thrilling encounter with a super-cool and mysterious species of dolphin.
Risso’s are the biggest dolphin species in the world (apart from Orcas, which are technically a dolphin) and are unusual because they have no beak. Everyone, including me, are always amazed that they can be found in the UK…they just look so exotic!
All this excitement plus the numb posterior thing, which had recurred big-time, resulted in me paddling back towards the house for a beer. Henry however stayed on and his persistence paid dividends with a magical sighting, using his drone, of a tiny Risso’s calf beside it’s mother. Persistence good, beer bad.
The sun continued to shine and the wind stayed essentially light for the entire week. Fantastic bird sightings, and sounds, continued…Concrakes, Hen Harriers, Eagles and a pair of Little Terns…another personal favourite of mine.
I’m not sure I’ve ever had the pleasure of paddling across a more spectacular beach than this. Scotland at its most special.
Magical is a word I have overused and try to avoid, but it is entirely appropriate for this little island.
The Lone Kayaker 