The Courier & Advertiser (Fife Edition)
Cruising around is just heavenly in the Hebrides
Robin is totally besotted with the amazing landscapes, wildlife and sunsets he sees off the west coast of his native land
Within minutes of landing on the remote coastline I have company. Two wild and hairy locals are brazenly munching on fish for breakfast. The otters are hungrily crunching the bones before flipping down into the crystal clear waters for more and returning to feast right in front of me.
Welcome to cruising aboard the Hjalmar Bjorge, a sturdy ship ideal for exploring Scotland’s islands and wildlife rich waters.
I’ve been lucky enough as a travel writer to cruise on ships all over the world, from Patagonia to the Irrawaddy, but for me no coastline even touches that of my native Scotland.
Here, the Northern Isles have their unique appeal, but it is the Hebrides, the myriad isles that lie off the western littoral, that shine brightest. I’d like to share their delights with you now.
Over the years I’ve cruised the Hebrides on more than a dozen vessels.
My latest steed comes courtesy of the Northern Light Cruising Company. It has been around well before the recent Scottish cruising boom took hold and has stuck true to its original aim of taking adventurous souls to adventurous places that you just cannot reach with CalMac.
The focus here is not on fine dining, fine wines and luxurious suites, but on adventure.
The cruise I join is focused on “Jura, Corryvreckan and Colonsay”. We aim to visit these, but where we go very much depends on time, tides and most importantly, the weather.
We’re in good hands. Skipper Mark Henrys owns the company and his wife, Anna, is crewing along with another Mark, our Australian chef. He cooks up fresh dishes in his tiny kitchen for the 11 passengers aboard.
If your image of cruising is of massive faceless ships, the Hjalmar Bjorge is a pleasant surprise. Her bijou size may a pleasant surprise, but she is also ideal for the job in hand.
Her twin engines give her enough grunt to get us anywhere and she cuts through the waves easily, which was essential in her former role as a Norwegian rescue vessel.
Her cabins are functional rather than luxurious, but there is a large lounge for relaxing in as well as plenty of outdoor places to sit and stand.
Then there is the bridge that Mark makes clear is very much open to guests all day.
Our first night is spent cruising out of Oban to enjoy a welcome dinner with wine in Loch Spelve, just off Mull. This sheltered spot is perfect for a quiet night getting to know each other, with guests comparing cruising stories and our hopes of what wildlife and scenery we will savour.
No one is disappointed as the Hebrides starts to show off on our first full day. We funnel south to the wee isle of Oronsay. It’s a stunner, made even more dramatic by the seals and the otter we catch sight of as we approach.
I break away from the others to enjoy a wee hill walk to the bijou highest point of Beinn Orasaigh at a mere 93m. The views are much more impressive than the altitude would suggest. Then I slip down to an old priory, thought now after recent research to be a contemporary of its sibling on Iona.
I finish off the day sunbathing on the sort of brilliant white beach that is so blissfully common in the Hebrides.
Closing my eyes, all I can hear are the waves gently breaking on the sands and the call of an oystercatcher.
Next day brings tiny Nave, an island I’ve spotted from Islay before, but never thought I’d be able to get on.
The terrain here is tough as it’s uninhabited and no animals graze the wild vegetation down. My efforts to yomp through the greenery are rewarded with a colony of seals and an epic view back to Mull, down to Islay and across to that most unmistakable of Scottish islands, Jura, with its epic Paps of Jura mountains.
No Scottish cruise is complete for me without at least one stunning, burning sunset. I join my fellow passengers when we moor off Jura for a sundowner as the big Hebridean skies explode with a collage of burning yellows, deep oranges and blood reds.
The local deer – Jura is Norse for deer – seem to be enjoying the spectacle too as they watch on from the skyline. I’m tempted to take out one of the Hjalmar Bjorge’s kayaks, but settle myself for admiring the scene instead from the decks.
As an old hand, Mark knows all about the vagaries of the Scottish weather, so when high winds sweep in he steers us into the shelter of Tayvallich.
This postcard-pretty wee village is an ideal hideaway, with a couple of great walks that Mark points out, a café with a waterfront terrace and an inn renowned for its seafood.
The next day the winds have eased so we nip around the corner to check out a remote church at Keills, which is renowned for its remarkable stone carvings.
It is near here that I spot my hungrily munching pair of otters. I spend a full half-hour enjoying their antics in the type of experience that many wildlife fans wait their whole lives for.
Our next port of call is the one place I’d set my heart on at the start of the week – Scarba. We cruise by the house on Jura where George Orwell wrote 1984. Mark skilfully navigates us away from the tumultuous waters of the Gulf of Corryvreckan and then we are there, moored off blissfully remote and little visited Scarba.
It is a rugged gem, alive with wild goats and red deer, whose coastline is also inhabited by otters, seals and mighty sea eagles. One half of our group goes on the ship’s dinghy in search of the local sea eagles and returns with great photos of these massive birds of prey.
I skip the boat trip as I’m determined to take the rare opportunity to land on Scarba. I follow a decent track that sweeps me deep into the island. It provides easy access to wild country and the local stags seem surprised to see me, keeping a watchful eye from the crags as I pass.
The views are epic back to Luing and the Slate Isles. If I’d walked further I could have gazed down on the whirlpools of Corryvreckan, but I save that for my next visit as I always promise myself to revisit islands I like in the Hebrides.
Stormy weather stirs up on our last day, but again Mark has a plan and lets us ashore at Crinan in the morning for a stroll along the banks of the Crinan Canal, which is brimming with boats after some of the emptier waters we have just been sailing through.
A last flourish sees us eke up through the Slate Isles to moor in a lovely, isolated bay. There is still time to catch sight of a couple of porpoises and a sea eagle as we ease along.
All too soon it is time to ease back into the world of traffic lights, mobile phone signals and other people in Oban.
I return with newfound friends and a rucksack stuffed full of the kind of memories of unique landscapes, bountiful wildlife and ever-changing light that make the Hebrides for me the world’s most compelling cruise destination.