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Wednesday, 13th April was kind of blustery with white caps on the sea. We had been promised earlier in our stay that though the wild wind would continue, the tides and swell would be much more favourable for a trip to Staffa and the Cave of the Giant, Fingal. So with high hopes we set off along the now well-known tooth-loosening track to the town.
Boarding the 'correct' boat this time - a little wooden one - and being greeted by the smiling faces of the captain and crew, it was most comforting to see that the waves washing up on the concrete pier at Fionnphort were most definitely lower than those on Saturday. In fact the tide was way out, and Fingals Rock, said to have been thrown by him in anger, which earlier had been surrounded by vast swathes of water way out in the bay, was high and dry on a large stretch of sand.
We took a 'secret passage' route, between the island of Mull and another, tiny rock outcrop, barely large enough to be called an island. This is where St Columbus placed the nuns from the Iona Priory for "safekeeping"…. We won't go there. We sailed past the remains of an old quarry. Pink granite from here was used to construct Iona Abbey and Skerryvore Lighthouse as well as many buildings as far away as London.
We were quite gleeful to see that the flashier, newer Staffa boat (with more passengers onboard) went the boring way around all these interesting features, heading straight to Staffa - thereby arriving first. Our fellow travellers only numbered another 9.
On the journey out the captain came to each group of us in turn and imparted some snippets of personalised information.
Our Aussie version? Among other interesting facts: 1. Sir Joseph Banks was the first notable personage to visit Staffa and then write scientifically about the island. 2. The woman who wrote "How to Train Your Dragon" spent many holidays looking at Staffa, and apparently used it for inspiration, from her grandfathers house on Little Colonsay - he was the chairman of Rio Tinto Australia.
The island soon loomed large, and it was so calm that the boat even entered Fingals Cave itself, bow first! Then around past the outlying rock formations (which Matt decided looked like very burnt KFC fries) and we landed on the little jetty for an hour of exploring, with clear and strict instructions to watch our footing as the going could be slippery.
There was the option of climbing a steep flight of stairs to the top of the island, or the short walk around the corner on the wonderful steps and stairs of octagonal blocks to the cave. Surprisingly, all but one of our fellow tourists immediately climbed up onto the top, leaving our little group + one, to stroll quickly to the haunt of the giant himself!
The speed with which the other boat had arrived and unloaded its passengers now meant that they were all trooping back to depart, and the only tricky bit of footing was around other tourists, not dodging waves and slippery rocks. So we arrived at the dark gaping mouth to the giants cave almost alone.
This space is more amazing and awe-inspiring than any photo can show. The sea was so calm it just lapped gently against the rocks, water dripping from the roof making more noise. We sat quietly, listening to the sounds which had inspired Mendelssohn to write his Hebrides Overture, but decided that perhaps his imagination was better than ours! After taking the compulsory shots, and encouraging Paul back from his (as usual) precarious position outside the safety barrier, we decided that with the last 15 minutes left before our boat returned we would quickly ascend to the heights above and take in the view.
Only then did the other passengers of our boat pass us on their way to the cave! Strange timeline indeed, but it also meant that the top of the island was all ours too. Nick discovered a weird place where the turf had bubbled up (we are not sure if with water or air) and it was bouncy like a trampoline. Karen was rather alarmed at the vigorous jumping on the spot by everyone though, as she felt it likely that the whole roof could collapse and they fall through to the cave below….. wouldn't like to be the ones responsible for putting a hole in Fingals Cave, what that giant might do in retribution doesn't bear thinking of.
Sadly, Paul re-injured his knee on the quick decent down the metal stairs to the now waiting boat, a fact we would hear much of as the days passed.
Then a short but entertaining detour to circle around and through the small numbers of puffins who were massing in the cold water off-shore. They are much smaller than you might think, only about the size of a Murray Magpie, and their beaks, though orange, get almost luminescent when the breeding season is in full swing. Apparently they will only land in large numbers, and are actually happiest when the tourist numbers are also up, as the presence of humans help keep the seagulls from taking their young!
Yet another couple of items crossed off the bucket list.
And so to Iona for a second visit. Boys and girls separated as Karen had some shopping to do and the boys, as usual, were uninterested. They ventured directly to the western side and the wide sandy bay, where they say they waited for the girls for ages and ages. Karen was extremely speedy with her desired purchasing, and then Nicky regaled her with tales from her childhood holidays as they made a more direct route across to the same beach. They thought they saw the boys higher up on the bluff, and stopped to wait for them. Somehow, though, the rendezvous point was mistaken or forgotten, and though Nicky and Karen sat clearly on a tall rock outcrop for a good 15 minutes, in purple and pink, the boys neglected to see them.
Regardless, we did all eventually join up, mainly due to the far greater speed the boys walk than the girls, and St Columbus bay was reached in a group.
This is definitely not the prettiest beach on Iona, as most of the shore is covered in pebbles, not lovely white sand. But the pebbles are an attraction in themselves, being a wide variety of shapes and colours and stripes and spots, all smoothed by the action of eons of waves tumbling them together. The main treasure hunt then began - to spot and collect pieces of Iona Stone, green marble washed ashore from the deposit around the corner. Soon everyone was head down, wandering the edge of the waves (or in Nickys case, in the wave edge) and all too soon we returned with hands and pockets full of lovely stones in all colours of the rainbow.
Then the task of sorting and choosing the best examples, as it isn't fair or realistic to keep all that is found. Nicky had brought some stones which had been collected on her last few visits, which she felt were not quite up to scratch, and needed to be "returned home, where they belong."
After a fun hour or so, with our pockets only slightly bulging with treasure from the seashore, we trooped up the slope and ventured back across the tightly cropped grass. Nicky and Paul were keen to visit one last favourite beach, and Nick was willing to undertake the "forced march" this would require to make the round trip in time to catch the last ferry back to Mull. Karen and Matt chose a more sedate stroll down through the crofts again, past Martyr's Bay and back to the village.
With time to spare, a warm coffee and hot chips was a most welcome entrée before the boat and car ride back to Skoor Cottage and a very late tea indeed. Giant and Saint footsteps successfully followed.
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