Mulling over Fingal's Cave

Felix Mendelssohn was so inspired by  dramatic Fingal's Cave on the island of Staffa that he wrote one of his most well known compositions. That seemed a good enough endorsement for us to head out there too. 

We figured that we may as well make a big day of it to try to see as much as possible, so booked on the Three Isles Tour. 

The ferry ride to Mull was over a calm and postcard-blue sea with postcard worthy views. 

The hour long bus ride was equally picturesque and quite entertaining. The road is advertised as 'narrow single lane with regular passing bays'. That doesn't do justice to the skills demanded of the double deck bus drivers. One humpback bridge gets special mention - the bus apparently has welded steel bash plates underneath because the bus scrapes on the hump when heavily laden. 

Now the Main Event - the boat trip to Staffa. Expectations were high as we were really looking forward to walking into Fingal's Cave. 

However... 

In a loose replay of our Soren Larson cruise in Hobart, the skipper waited until we were underway before advising that there was a 'wee bit of a swell' coming in from North Atlantic from one direction, and a 'wee bit of wind' blowing the other way. As a consequence we might not be able to land on the island to walk to the cave.

Which was the sole purpose of going. 

And given advance warning we could have spent more time on Iona as an alternative. 

Hmm...

The skipper reckoned we could at least go out and have a look as the boat wouldn't be troubled by the sea state and there was always a slim possibility that as the tide came in we might be able to land. 

I am not sure if it was Mother Nature's way of apologising or mocking, but shortly after that announcement we had some visitors, so the skipper turned around so we could enjoy their company and vice versa:

After the dolphins finished playing with us, we turned and again headed out to Staffa. 

At this point we were glad that the skipper was happy the boat wouldn't be troubled. My personal assessment of the huge swell and waves crashing right over the boat was somewhat less optimistic, and I suspect some of the other passengers shared my opinion. We have no photos that do justice to the experience, mostly because we were preoccupied hanging on. 

As you can probably guess from the fact we are still alive, the skipper's assessment was the more accurate than mine, and we arrived safely, marvelling how Felix came out on a sailing vessel... 

Bonus point for those who had scampered inside the cabin at the start of the crossing, as we were almost dry. 

The views were well worth the effort... 

The skipper lingered around for photos then went to assess the dock to see if we could land. 

Dock? What dock? All we could see was a block of concrete accessible only through a very narrow gap between seriously jagged rocks. The photo below was timed between the Nth Atlantic wave surges crashing all over the entrance. 

Disappointment at not landing was adequately tempered with the assurance we would not die in the attempt, plus Mother Nature again compensated with an aerial display of puffins. 

Back to the cave for more photos. 

At which point the skipper started reversing into the maelstom so we could get better views!

We didn't get pictures as we got closer, as we were too busy checking out the location of the life jackets, just in case... 

Now off to Iona, an easy ride back if one stayed in the shelter of the cabin... 

Iona's main claim to fame is the old Abbey and Nunnery, both of which had suffered from damage over the centuries. A vicar founded the Iona Community in 1938 with the aim in part of job creation for the unemployed, which included a number of stonemasons. Their flagship project is the rebuilding of the accommodation wing of the Abbey, and it looks great. 

Hopefully they will rebuild the Nunnery in due course... 

We quietly pottered around Iona before first catching the ferry back to Mull, then the bus back to the other end, and finally the bigger ferry back to Oban. 

Given how rough it had become at Staffa, how rough was it going back to Oban? This rough... 

Back at Oban, a quiet dinner overlooking a beautiful sunset. The end of a great day's adventure, even if not the one we planned.