We weren’t even supposed to be there, but sometimes you’re glad when things don’t work out quite as planned.
Mark and I, complete with our dogs Reg and Skye, headed to the Isle of Skye in our newly restored campervan for a long weekend to celebrate my birthday. We set off on the Thursday night after Mark finished work in the hopes of avoiding the congestion around Inverness from the Rock Ness festival that was due to take place that weekend.
Up here in summer (well, June anyway) it doesn’t really get dark at all and so we were surprised to look at our little dashboard clock and see 11.30 as we headed through Glen Shiel in what appeared to be early evening. Glen Shiel is famous for many respects and infamous for probably as many other reasons. It was particularly poignant that we were travelling through here at this time, as the Battle of Glen Shiel (which formed part of the first Jacobite uprising) took place on June 10th, the Birthday of James Stuart for whom the rebellion was instigated and whose birthday I share.
We pulled into a quiet lay-by with thoughts of spending the night and set about a late snack. Just as we’d all eaten the dogs wanted out for a toilet break and this was the moment we commenced our own Battle of Glen Shiel - with the midges!
The highland midge is infamous and they swarmed around the van, swords (metaphorically) brandished. It always amazes me how an insect so small can inflict so much misery and pain. The dogs have never been hurried along so much in their lives but even they weren’t enjoying the attention of these pesky little insects. Jumping back in the van was no relief because as we’d opened the door many of the little blighters had followed us back in.
It was like a scene from a comedy horror as they swarmed over van seeking out every tiny hole, crevice and air vent to gain entry and access to the helpless humans inside, while said humans stuff toilet paper into every crack they find to prevent them whilst dancing around trying to swat the ones already inside.
After ten minutes of frantic swatting I decided I really didn’t want the old farmhouse I could see on the distance mountainside anymore and didn’t really think much of spending the night in this lay-by either!
Putting the van back into travel mode with one hand whilst killing midges with the other, we readied the van to move off again in record time. We headed further into Glen Shiel. Moving with the van vents on full blast stopped the little devils and actually many met their deaths plastered to the rear windows but we knew that some would be lurking about for the rest of the night at least.
As we slowly moved from the dense woodland down the side of the loch the wind picked up and we could see that the midges (who evidently can’t fly in 4mph wind or above) seemed to be dissipating from around the van. As we rounded the next bend we spotted an expanse of concrete – possibly where farm storage building might once have stood – off the road to our left. The completely flat ground works and concrete bases were the perfect place to pitch and three other campervans had got their before us. One was further up the hillside on the right, two in old building’s remaining bays, leaving one last base for us.
We pulled in and waited with baited breath….would midges start to appear? Would we see them swarm again at the glass? Skye wanted a wee (again) and so I braved the outside world. The breeze was light but nevertheless it was there. If you remained still for long enough then the midges would find you, but in vastly reduced quantities. We were safe.
The following morning dawned bright and sunny once again. The wind was up, and the pleasantly fresh breeze was obviously going to keep the insects at bay so there was much rejoicing in the Crane household this fine morning. We made the van travel ready once again, swatting the last remaining midges as we went from inside the van, and headed off to the Kyle of Lochalsh and the Skye Bridge, passing the famous Eilean Donan Castle on the way.
Even stopping at the castle was, for once, a midge free pleasure and allowed me to get some excellent photos (which can be seen at www.jancrane.co.uk)
Arriving at the Skye Bridge it was great to be able to cross without the huge and unjustifiable toll imposed by the bridges constructors. The toll had been the bane of our previous holidays and weekends away in the area and added considerably to the cost of our wedding in September of 2004.
We crossed over onto Skye and announced to our Skye that this was the isle from which she took her name (having arrived in our life just 10 months after we were married in Portree). Skye was on Skye and this was going to lead to some fun conversations we had little doubt.
Our first planned stop was at Glenbrittle and the campsite there which belongs to the Macleod’s of Dunvegan Castle. It always amused me how much the film Highlander got wrong: Glenfinnan (the highlanders birthplace) is not on the banks of Loch Shiel, Eilean Donan Castle is not and never has been the home of the Macleod’s, and in fact the residents of the castle have been to war against the Macleod’s on a number of occasions…I could go on. Anyway, Hollywood inaccuracies aside, both Eilean Donan Castle and Dunvegan Castle are worth visiting; one for the castle and the scenery and the other for the gardens and the cafe.
Glenbrittle campsite is found at the bay overlooking the Isle of Canna (and if you squint the Isle of Mull) at the end of the glen itself. It sits in the shadow of the Black Cuillin mountains with, I’m reliably informed, a view of the infamous “In Pin” – the most In accessible Pinnacle of rock and perhaps feared Munro in the whole of Scotland. I say, informed, because at the base of the Cuillins at this point is a loch and as the sun burns down onto it, it generates its own clouds which rise up from the loch and shroud the ridge. While we were enjoying the sunshine and the beach (black sand from the Cuillins basalt rock base, very cool) it didn’t poke more than the very top of its head out the whole time.
There was a good wind, enough to pink my ears, and the midges were kept down until 9pm. Then, the wind dropped….
Out they came. Within minutes everyone was running for cover, zipping themselves into tents or covering themselves in midge repellent and donning midge nets (the least fashionable item in any highlanders wardrobe). Slowly they crept into the van through the vents again. We knew it was going to be an unpleasant night but there was little we could do about it. I covered myself in Avon’s Skin So Soft and this did indeed reduce significantly the number that actually bit me. I wasn’t sure if it was the scent from the oil the fact I’d put so much on that they drowned in it, but it worked. Mark wasn’t fairing so well. Having been bitten severely (he must taste REALLY nice to midges) the evening before he couldn’t bare the oil on his skin. Everything was hurting him and he was having a severe reaction to the bites. Whereas my bites were small red dots that itched only when I scratched them, his bites were festering and opening like blisters. He looked like he had a severe dose of Chicken Pox and the itching was driving him mad.
We did what we could to seal up the van, I took the dogs out whenever they needed it and all movement in and out of the van was kept to a minimum and done at speed. We had a restless night and awoke to another sunny day. As I peered out the windows at 5am the following morning I saw the sun shining and prayed the wind had also returned. As I looked around I saw the first campers heading for the shower block and to a man (or woman) they were wearing their midge nets. OH NO! There wasn’t a breath of wind and the midges were as ferocious now as they had ever been.
Again we made the van travel ready and headed swiftly out of the site and up into the glen. As the road rose the wind picked up and we were able to open the windows and clear the ones inside the van to same fate as their brethren – adhered to the rear windows (sprayed with Oust – which they hate and stick to). Mark was in serious trouble by now and I knew we were going to struggle to remain on the island for the rest of the weekend.
Instead of heading north towards the castle and then on to our second night’s stopping point, we turned right and headed towards the main road to Portree. A decision had to be made – Mark couldn’t carry on like this without getting seriously ill from the effects of histamine. I turned away from Portree and towards the nearest town with a shop large enough to perhaps have some Anti-histamine tablets. As we reached Broadford the wind was steady and it was safe for Mark to leave the van. We took the dogs for a brief walk and then made our first cup of tea of the day while we contemplated what to do next. Mark was insistent that we remain on the island, offering to stay inside the van for the whole trip if the wind dropped again. He knew how important it was to me to be able to get some photos of the island but I wasn’t going to watch him suffer for the whole weekend. What fun would that be?
So, reluctantly, as the anti-histamines and painkiller slowly brought his suffering down to a tolerable level, we bid farewell to the Isle of Skye and headed back through Glen Shiel and on to Inverness. Less than 48 hours after we started out from our home 60 miles to the west of Inverness, we found ourselves fighting our way through the traffic for Rock Ness we had so hoped to avoid. The weather was fine and we were disappointed to miss out on our time on Skye but it really was in everyone’s interests that we got off the Isle.
On the outskirts of Inverness we stopped for fuel and spotted many of the youngsters who would later be fried, midge bitten and suffering from various degrees of alcohol poisoning at Rock Ness. I bought Mark a long sleeved shirt to keep the sun, wind and insects from his sore skin and some wine to chill my ragged nerves later that evening. I was determined, having saved for this weekend for several weeks, that it would not be a complete washout. We headed not towards home, but further north over the A9 Kessock Bridge and towards the northern side of the Moray Firth.
Turning off the A9 towards Cromarty and the van must have wondered if it was going home, as this is where we had bought it some 9 months earlier in a somewhat sorrier state. But, no, we weren’t going quite that far. As you pull into Munlochy you can smell the salt air from the sea and you know that you are not far now to the most wonderful wildlife site in the whole of the British Isles. As you go through Fortrose and Rosemarkie (which is sort of two places that have joined into one) you take a hard right towards the golf course and Chanonry Point.
Unsurprisingly busy, after Simon King broadcast to the nation on the BBC’s Springwatch that Thursday, there wasn’t anywhere to park in the tiny car park at the point but it didn’t matter as we were heading for the campsite that lines its western fringe. There are two site, the posh one on the eastern side and the not quite to posh one on the western side. Both are fairly expensive, especially if you’ve just come from the Isle of Skye which is quite a bit fairer priced. The view is however, magnificent and we pulled dup facing out across the firth to the Kessock Bridge in the distance.
While we were getting a brew on a dolphin swam by.
It was the first of our encounters of that weekend. Encounters which go on to make the decision we made on Skye a very positive one. We took the dogs out for a walk along the side of the golf course (which kindly requests in its signs that you beware of golf balls but offered now advice as to exactly how you should do this….) towards the point. The point was busy but there weren’t any dolphins.
I have been to Chanonry Point a number of times and seen the dolphins far out into the firth and while magical it wasn’t the view I had hoped to get. Some days I had stood there on the point for over nine hours and not seen a thing so any view was always special. We returned to the van, opened the wine, set about cooking the evening meal and relaxed as the sea wind picked up.
The clouds rolled in but we kept some sunny spells and slowly the wind died down as it approached bedtime. Thankfully, this part of the highlands doesn’t (at the moment) get midges. They are slowly making their way across but the wind from the North Sea causes them too many problems for them to become established. We have yet to see, as global warning takes effect, if this will change and the midge will spread as eastwards as many fear.
The following morning I took Skye for her long walk. Reg is a little old now for a long walk and he was happy to have a paddle on the beach. As I rounded the point I couldn’t believe my eyes. Dolphins, five of them, no more than twenty feet from the shore! Jumping and breeching, cavorting in the waves, hunting for fish, leaping and turning. I swore I didn’t have my camera and I don’t think Skye could even work out why we had stopped and pulled at her lead back towards the campsite. I headed back towards the campsite and the van, AND my camera.
Skye jumped into the van, followed by me, trying to convey to a still sleepy Mark (he does like a nap with Reg while I do the long Skye walks) what I had just seen. I beckoned to the chap in the van next door who I know wanted to see the dolphins and he headed straight off to the point. I grabbed my camera equipment and after getting everything ready, followed suit. He was on his way back as I reached the final few hundred yards to the point itself. I had missed them! The last ones were just visible in the distance heading out to sea as I made my way down onto the spit of pebbles and sand.
I waited for a while but most people were packing up and headed back to their cars – shows over. I headed back to the van thinking about how many miles I had just covered walking to the spit and back twice and all for no photos. But, I had seen them; close up and with my own eyes. Nothing in the world could erase that memory or that feeling.
When you watch dolphins you realise that these creatures are individuals, self aware, and with a capacity of intellect that may even exceed our own. I have ready numerous books on dolphins and recommend to you the remarkable In Defence of Dolphins by Thomas I. White and published by Blackwell Publishing. If more people read this book then the whole way we treat or should that be abuse these fabulous animals would be bound finally to change.
The following morning I got up earlier and headed to point again, this time with my camera. Skye went for a play on the beach with Reg and would be happy enough with a longer walk later. As I rounded the point the excitement was palpable. People were gathering on the point including Charlie Phillips from the WDCS, who I had been in communication with about dolphin i’dents over the last couple of months. It was nice to finally meet the man who had tried, valiantly, but failed, to identify my distant dolphins in my photos. I had missed the dolphins moving up the coast but he said that they should be back soon. We waited, and….we waited.
Almost an hour later, as several people were about to give up, a sudden wave of excitement passed through the small crowd. Dolphins, heading straight for us and only a few metres from the shore. Kesslet and her calf, only about 7 months of age, along with another dolphin possibly a much larger male came within just a few feet of where I was stood. I was so delighted and stunned by their proximity and speed that I didn’t get a single darned shot!
It didn’t matter. They stayed there feeding just off the point for another 20 minutes before being joined by a pod of three larger male dolphins who got very excited and started throwing the fish, and themselves, into the air. Shortly after that another pod of four dolphins also came into view from the seaward side. Before we knew it there were dolphins everywhere, all of them putting on a show. The little calf would rush about and jump out of the water, making eye contact we those of us on shore until it’s mother stepped in between us and it and they returned to the more serious job of catching fish.
The photos I got in those 40 bliss filled minutes do not compare to the experience of being there but they do show that you can have an encounter with a wild dolphin in UK waters without even leaving dry land. I rushed back to the van, even though the dolphins were still there in easy sight, as I wanted Mark to experience the joy that I had felt. I made a cup of tea and stayed with the dogs as I urged him to get his arse into gear before he missed them.
By the time he made it to the point he was rewarded with the departing view I had enjoyed the previous morning, but he was happy to see even that. The photos on my site at www.jancrane.co.uk are just a small representation of the images I captured that day.
It saddens me to think, that through mans greed and infatuation with money, these dolphins won’t be here for people to see and experience in just a few years time. The government is looking at granting licences to drill for oil and gas exploration in the heart of the Moray Firth. For animals that rely on sonar to locate their only food source noise on this scale will drive them away, if it doesn’t kill them. Noise from increased traffic prior to drilling will be the start of the process and noise from the planned marina on the southern shore will also threaten the most northerly resident population of Bottlenose Dolphins in the world.
We have seen recently the mass stranding of dolphins on the coast in Cornwall and I fear, along with many others, that this will be a sign of things to come. It seems more than co-incidental that the dolphins that stranded were trapped between the shore and the Royal Navy carrying out live firing. Perhaps they stranded as the nose confused them, perhaps they were trying to get away from the noise and unable to go around it tried to get up river and beached themselves in the process. There was nothing physically wrong with these dolphins and no other explanation can be offered. If a short period of live firing can do this then what hope have our Moray Firth Dolphins got against continual drilling and massive ship and machinery manoeuvres in a place as locked in as the Moray Firth?
I will treasure my day with the dolphins for the rest of my life, and I will fight with all the life that remains within me to protect them.
For more information about the threats to the Moray Dolphins’ and much more please visit www.wdcs.org.uk and help them to help save the dolphins. Thank you.
