91热爆

A Blog for Staffa and Nan.

In 1958 my Mom and her parents traveled by steam train from Birmingham to Oban, no mean feat way back then when I was but a distant happening on the horizon.
My grandmother died young but I can remember her telling me about a magical Isle called Staffa, my grandfather didn鈥檛 make the trip out from Oban but 鈥淣an did鈥� was a family thing. (My Uncle George made it to Hirta (St Kilda) in 1960 and helped carry out one of the first bird counts, but to me Staffa had a Norse ring to it, pirates and caves). My grandfather kept the story of Staffa alive and it was always a dream of mine to one day see and walk upon my childhood memory.

And so as it was that I crewed upon An Sulaire (www.ansulaire.com) Kenny Morrison was the childhood salty sea dog Skipper. On a glorious day 3 years ago we set sail from Scarinish and headed across the briny blue to the Treshnish isles and on towards Staffa. Felix Mendelssohn playing in the back ground, and bacon butties cooking in the bilge.





Sails tight in the wind this magical wooden boat from Lewis and the men of Ness took us safely towards our destination. The Sgoth Niseach (Ness Boat) is now the only full sized one left in existence.





Under azure skies we rounded the Island after a few hours sailing, the incredible geometry of the Staffa columns stark against the greens and blues that surround. At the landing point we were taken by a helping pleasure craft to the small jetty and clambered around to see the cave. It was fortunate that the island had only a hand full of visitors on this day.





And I was lost in thoughts of my Nan鈥檚 presence on this magical jewel, I felt that little kid again, by my side holding onto my Nan鈥檚 hand. I felt so happy.



The cave is such a fantastic place on such a fine Islands day, Fingals Cave, how apt one of my boys should be called Finn, and that he also shares a love of the ocean and of the Isles.



We returned to An Sulaire after an enchanting walk across Staffa鈥檚 green sward, dotted with alpine flowers. Mull and Beinn Mor spred out across the bay.



But the amazing day had not as yet finished, gently we slipped into the cave in An Sulaire and Kenny鈥檚 partner played a jig or two on her whistle鈥nd we danced there in this incredible sea cut cathedral.



The tourists looked on bemused at our antics鈥nd my Nan did a little jig by my side, while we all marveled at the hypnotic basalt ceiling, shape shifting in the reflection of the sea...the beautiful sea...



It has taken me a good few years to save for my own boat, the good ship Impromptu鈥uring that life experience, day sail to Staffa with the friendly crew of An Sulair, I made a decision to buy a boat of my own and one day visit Hirta (St Kilda) for as I have said there is also a family connection with the island鈥ut that鈥檚 a tale for later...the sailing season for me at least has finished.

A well traveled lot us pseudo welsh Brummies鈥�



May i just add that this is the "Black Pearl" and not the yacht I intend to sail to St Kilda in...mind you the cabin boy is a fine fellow...and is learning to hold a steady course...