TENDING OUR WILD ISLES
Artist Katie Tunn is on a quest to visit 82 of Britain’s largest islands, taking the time to clean these isolated shores of waves of litter along the way
Artist Katie Tunn is on a quest to visit 82 of our largest islands, taking time to wild swim and clear their shores of litter along the way.
It’s 7am when I wake, in ancient oak woodland on the Hebridean island of Ulva. My bed crunches as I roll over: beneath me lies a forest floor carpeted with dried leaves. The morning sunlight filters through branches tufted with beard lichens. Wrens are peeping and, in the distance, the cows are calling.
There are few more intimate ways to experience nature than to sleep outdoors. Often even the wildlife doesn’t notice you. I’ve woken to find deer standing over me; I don’t know who was more surprised.
When I’m alone with nature, I always manage to find peace. But I feel doubly fortunate to be on an island. Many of us feel a deep-seated attraction to islands; they appeal to our sense of adventure, and maybe something deeper in human evolution. I’m fascinated by them. So when Ordnance Survey and Sheffield University produced a poster detailing Great Britain’s 82 largest islands – those more than five square kilometres in area – I jumped at the chance to travel to all of them as a personal challenge. Over the course of my #82Islands adventure, I will visit the popular tourist destinations, including the Isle of Wight, Mull and Anglesey, as well as uninhabited islands, such as Scarp, Mingulay and Hirta.
SHORELINE SWEEP
I wanted the challenge to not only encourage others to get close to nature, but also to help protect our wild places from human impact. I believe we should all do what we can to leave these places better than we found them. Luckily, there’s an easy way to do this: by collecting rubbish. So on each island, I do a litter pick. Every shore around the world now struggles with the incoming tide of marine plastics and our islands are no exception; even the tranquil and remote ones on Scotland’s north-west coast.
You don’t need any equipment or planning to do a beach clean. A bag of some kind is always helpful, although on many beaches you’ll often come across a discarded bucket, fish box or carrier bag. The rubbish I’ve found so far has included huge tangles of
“When you connect to an area, you naturally want to treat it with respect”
fishing nets and ropes, drinks bottles, food cartons, black plastic pipes from salmon farms and shotgun shells.
Even worse, it’s common to find flushed items, such as plastic cottonbud sticks, wet wipes or tampon applicators, thanks to inadequate rural sewerage systems. Some of the more remote island shores have been littered with large buoys and polystyrene floats – too much for me to carry alone. Others have just had the odd piece of rope and cigarette butt. It was great to find many places spotlessly clean – thanks to local individuals and volunteer groups.
LEAVE NO TRACE
I fill my rucksack to remove as much litter as I can (even if it means carrying it in my hands) and dispose of it on the mainland or at bigger ports such as Oban. I’m used to my pack needing a good wash after a trip. Often local folk offer to dispose of the rubbish for me, which is nice, but most islands have limited refuse-collection services and taking stuff away myself is a big part of not leaving a trace. Some islands make a point of encouraging this (Iona Hostel displays posters asking guests to take their waste away with them as much as possible).
Sadly, most litter still goes into regular landfill. Although it’s contained and less dangerous for marine wildlife, we still have a long way to go. Some plastics can be recycled, but plastic that has spent a long time in the sea has usually been degraded to a point where it’s unsuitable for recycling. Some items I wash and use in artworks; the sculpture I made for Oor Wullie’s Big Bucket Trail of public art in Glasgow featured colourful beach-cleaned rope.
Another important message I want to share is to slow down when you travel and leave no trace. The boom in tourism on Skye has been wonderful in many ways, but with thousands of visitors, issues are bound to arise. Single-track roads have become blocked with traffic and paths eroded and strewn with litter. ‘Island bagging’ has become a trend, in which people rush between photogenic locations, hardly stopping en route.
Many islanders want folk to slow down and absorb the spirit of each place. When you connect to an area, taking a moment to notice the wildlife and the community that lives there, you naturally want to treat it with respect.
Taking things slowly really pays off. I have time to appreciate how each island is intriguingly different, from the history and culture to the flora, fauna and geology. My way of slowing down is to create an artwork on each island. This makes me pause and truly look. From white sands to tiny harbours filled with colourful boats, there’s plenty of inspiration. Foraging for sculpture materials makes me look closely at my surroundings, while painting and drawing pushes me to become more observant. It’s an almost meditative way to experience a place.
I have also promised myself to swim on each island. There are so many fairytale waterfalls and turquoise lagoons to explore that I can’t resist taking the plunge. Yes, it’s cold, even in summer, but it’s hugely invigorating and it’s been a great way to meet like-minded local people along the way – fellow crazy cold-water lovers.
A LIFE OF ISLANDS
I’m only a fraction of the way through the 82 islands on the list, but I’ve already made many new friends. Part of the joy of experiencing the islands is encountering the kindnesses of the people who live there, from swimming guides to drivers who offer me lifts.
As I’m more interested in slowing down than rushing to tick things off, I haven’t given myself a time limit in which to complete the challenge. At my current pace, I’m looking at finishing at the end of 2020. Although I use the words ‘completing’ and ‘finishing’, the wonderful thing about exploring islands around the UK is that their stories are ongoing. Each location is so rich in wonderful people, nature and history that it’s impossible to fully ‘get to know’ it. I could spend my whole life visiting these islands and still have only just scratched the surface.
Katie Tunn is an artist and marine mammal medic who lives in Skye and volunteers for Surfers Against Sewage. She lived off-grid for the Channel 4 reality project Eden in 2017, and is now an ambassador for Ordnance Survey.