ISLAND GIRL

After experiencing a terrible personal tragedy, Amelia Dalton answered the call of the wild to lead a life that has become the stuff of legend, writes Neil Drysdale

happened without incidents and aggravation while she “tiptoed" through the egos of a male-dominated industry, as she has related in a new book Mistress and Commander.

In 1989, for instance, Amelia was carrying a bag of fish suppers back to her ship, Monaco, which was temporarily docked in Oban. Suddenly, she was confronted by a figure in the dark. And the message was horribly clear and delivered with a snarl. “You get your fancy, hi'-falooting self out of here. You're not wanted!"

It wasn't the first time Amelia had been forced to endure such intimidation, but this woman is as fragile as a moose: somebody who transcended the devastation of losing a son, while adopting the philosophy life was to be embraced.

She worked in the west of Scotland for the National Trust from 1989 to the start of the 2000s, before setting up her own travel company, Amelia Dalton Travel, from which she gained plaudits from royals and a plethora of celebrities.

Nothing has daunted her. When I asked her to list any negative aspects of her career, she accentuated the positive and responded: “The isolation of being at sea for long periods could be anxious, then there were the worries of winter, the dangers of dive charters. But these were as nothing compared to the great times, the sense of achievement, and proving I could make the business work as a going concern, not simply as a spoiled girl."

From the late 1980s onwards, she owned a small ship, running cruises to the isolated island chains of Scotland's West Coast, visiting such resplendent vistas as Rum, Eigg, Mull, the Cuillins on Skye and the transcendent otherwordly wildness of St Kilda.

It's an inspirational saga, but one forever perched on the cusp of disaster.

Amelia was dependent, at the start of her adventures in the north of Scotland, on the man she had engaged as the skipper of Monaco, Cubby MacKinnon, who worked on the West Coast with his wife, Kate.

Never a man to use 20 words where a couple would suffice, this real-life Para Handy helped Amelia through her early travails. When she asked: “Do you think this boat's just a tub full of holes?" Cubby replied: “No, I reckon she's okay. But there's a wee problem."

These “wee problems" often proved much bigger obstacles. But, as Amelia said: “Cubby was never fazed by that. He always looked for solutions and he knew the waters around the north of Scotland like the back of his hand."

Cubby was a constant presence in the early stages, a mixture of gruff good sense and monosyllabic humour, but Amelia was confronted by demanding passengers, officious bureaucrats and sceptical sailors on a frequent basis. What began as a bid to assist the NTS in maintaining their island links was a campaign beset with pitfalls. Yet, by the sheer force of her personality, allied to her relentless work ethic, she flung herself – while in her 30s – into the task of transforming a neglected Arctic fish-

“I was a middle-class girl with a background in antiques and cooking, the daughter of a judge and somebody who was happily married with two little boys”