Wild, wild islands
Our first night of sailing on the Polar Pioneer was benign but it marked the start of one of the most sustained exciting periods of my life - 10 days of geology, ornithology, wildflowers, and bouncing about on zodiacs.
We were among the Scottish islands and Faroe Islands, immersed in human history stretching from the Stone Age to our own times.
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These are cold, windswept, green and treeless blobs of hard tough rock, mostly volcanic, upon which centuries of hardy folk have eked out their existence running hairy sheep and cattle, plundering the eggs and oils of gannets, puffins, petrels and gulls, digging peat to provide basic warmth and singing songs and dancing in defiance of saints who presumed to know what was good for their spirits and afterlife.
Our first landing place, Iona in the Inner Hebrides, is forever associated with Saint Columba and his monastery. I left the group early and headed for Dun I, the highest point of the island, from where I could survey the sea in all directions.
My own sense of ancient times kicked in and I imagined myself up there in a hairy, Stone Age calfskin, half freezing to death.
This was one of the few days we had three zodiac excursions.
Next was Rubh' An Dunain, a picturesque peninsula in the south-west of Skye. I was disappointed to learn that Skye is officially no longer considered an island now that there is a connecting bridge to the mainland.
That afternoon saw us on Canna, a larger basaltic island of dishevelled history spanning Benedictine monks, Norwegian suzerainty, piracy, rule from the Kingdom of Scotland under The Lord of the Isles, before passing to the Macdonalds, only to be set alight and plundered in 1588 by the mercenaries of Sir Lachlan Maclean.
In more recent times, Canna has been bought and sold by a series of private owners, before ending up with the National Trust in 1981.
Rounding the northern tip of the Isle of Lewis meant heading into the less-protected waters of the Atlantic and sailing down the west, Outer Hebridean coast until we nudged into East Loch Roag as it narrowed towards the famous Standing Stones of Callanish.
About seven o'clock that evening we anchored off the little town of Tobermory on northern Mull. Lovingly painted in bright hues and with its own distillery (of course), the main attraction was that the pub would be open until 10pm.
The next phase of our voyage had been anticipated by me more than any other - the island of St Kilda.
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GREENOCK
MYSTIC HEBRIDEAN ISLANDS
Many years ago, a friend had lent me a book, The Life and Death of St Kilda by Tom Steel. Some reading experiences you never forget and this was such a one. St Kilda has been etched on to my mind as a place of lonely, dark and windswept mystery.
We were kept waiting while the Russian captain sailed around the minor islands of Soay and Boreray before clambering out of our zodiacs on to the largest island of Hirta which is known to have been inhabited continuously for 2000 years, until the last residents were evacuated "for their own good" in 1930.
Exports of fulmar oil for lamps and tweed declined and Scottish authorities decided the dwindling population was no longer viable.
Their food consisted largely of seabirds, but into the 20th century the youngsters were seeking work (and play) on the mainland and the older folk were unable to scale the heights to reach the fulmars and gannets and their eggs.
Steel's book tells of life after evacuation, and it makes sad and thoughtful reading.
The people had trouble understanding the nature and use of money, their new diet was totally foreign to body and spirit alike, water now emanated from something called "pipes" and, the final nail, they were put to work mainly for the Forestry Commission.
North Rona is considered the most remote of all the Scottish Isles. It boasts the ruins of St Ronan's chapel which is considered to be the oldest Christian building in Britain, dating back to AD700.
My introduction to the Orkneys was most appropriate. Everyone has heard of The Old Man of Hoy, a stunning 137m vertical stack of red sandstone which characterises much of the Orkneys and is largely responsible for these islands having a much richer soil than most of the others.
Hence, these islanders have relied far more on agriculture over the centuries than upon catching fish and birds.
Papa Westray is one of the most northerly islands of the Orkneys and is an island of unrelieved bleakness.
It lies just to the north-east of the larger Westray and they are "connected" by the shortest scheduled flight in the world. Two minutes is the time allotted, but one pilot has a "personal best" of 58 seconds.
One kilometre south along the western coast of Papa Westray is the Knap of Howar, dated around 3700BC. These are two solidly built stone houses thought to be the oldest preserved domestic dwellings in Europe.
Overnight we sailed west-northwest to the Faroe Islands, about halfway between Scotland and Iceland. The Faroe Islands have been a self- governing dependency of Denmark since 1948 and, although the official language is Danish, the nearly 50,000 inhabitants speak Faroese.
Next day we sailed north along the Vestmanna Cliffs. This coastline is breathtaking and, as at Papa Stour, laced with chasms and caves, although the sea here was far more benign on the day. We took the zodiacs calmly into several of these chasms and on into networks of caves.
The last Faroes landing was mid-afternoon on the island of Fugloy at the tiny village of Hattarvik. But returning to the ship was one of the most rewarding exercises of the entire two weeks. As soon as we had landed, a thick fog descended and range of vision was about 20m at best. The Polar Pioneer was anchored well offshore, and we set out with our very existence totally dependent on GPS and compass.
Another night of sailing eastward and we were back in the Shetlands, landing on Foula.
If Foula is the most westerly of the Shetlands, then Fair Isle is due south and almost midway to the Orkneys. The name is known all over the world as a style of knitted jumper.
And so, finally, on to Norway.
We disembarked at Bergen and, while the people are lovely, the city is geared to the sale of endless touristy trash.
The country seems very expensive as fish and chips for two and a couple of beers will set you back close to $100.
FACT FILE
Aurora Expeditions will be returning to Wild Scotland and the Faroe Islands for a 14-day expedition cruise, departing Oban on June 11, 2012, and arriving in Torshavn on the Faroe Islands on June 24. Kayaking and scuba diving options are available.
Prices start from $7500 per person. There is also an earlybird offer of 10 per cent off for the first 10 passengers who book direct with Aurora Expeditions. Terms and conditions apply.
More information at auroraexpeditions.com.au or phone (02) 9252 1033.
