Highlands and Islands: Our Group Has a Very Busy Day

May 28th was another un-Scottish sunny day, and the bulk of it was spent exploring the Black Isle, which is a really a peninsula between the Cromarty Firth and Moray Firth, narrow intrusions of the North Sea. One speculation is that the name 'Black' came from the black hair of Danish Vikings who settled it.

Our group of ten, plus guides Jonathan and Louise and van driver Jim, set off for our first stop, a 13th Century church that's recently been restored, called Kirkmichael.

In the firth there were parked oil rigs, awaiting repairs or another job.

Part of the cemetery.

Headstones to investigate.

Some with a sense of humor.

Here's an encompassing view.

Jonathan's arm was in motion.

The white-sided addition in the above photo was a place for memorials.

From the church to Cromarty town was but a short drive. We disembarked at Ecoventures, donned lifejackets over one-piece blue suits, warm and waterproof, and trooped down to the dock.

Off we went! At first we headed up the firth, away from the sea.

Joan and I were sitting in the front.

There was no platform left on this rig,

but the seabirds loved it.

The boat changed course and we headed towards a buoy.

This was not a navigational buoy, but a war grave, the spot where the HMS Natal, an armored cruiser, blew up on Dec. 30, 1915, with the loss of over 400 lives. The likely cause was defective ammunition.

We zoomed out towards the entrance to the firth, encountering a swarm of gulls targeting a school of small fish.

On either side of the channel were blockhouses.

The other side ...

The blockhouses guarded Cromary Firth during both World Wars, and were anchor points for a double layer of anti-submarine netting. Now, as evidenced by the white-wash on the rocks, they are a favorite nesting spot for many bird varieties, from cormorants to razorbills.

We cruised south as far as these structures and caves, then turned back towards the firth to inspect the bird colonies more closely.

As we dawdled past the colonies the cry rang out, "Dolphins!" Our boat swung towards these marine mammals, and respectfully paced them as they swam seaward, hunting. This is the northernmost pod of bottlenose dolphins in the world, and one of only two in the UK.

They do love to jump.

Whee!

Back ashore our group had a first-class lunch at the Sutor Creek Cafe, conveniently next door to Ecoventures. I enjoyed the Cullen skink, a culinary initiation for me. "Skink" is a Scots word for a shin or knuckle of beef, and Cullen is a Scotish village. Jonathan, our leader, said its name was attached to fish soup recipe for those so poor they couldn't afford to throw in a knuckle of beef.

Post-lunch we visited Cromarty town, first with Jonathan and then a wee while on our  own. The Old Brewery has been converted into a multi-purpose building:

Jonathan gave us some background on a repurposed church.

But just around the corner was the fascinating East Church,

with roots back to medieval times. (Click on the image to enlarge.)

Jonathan took advantage of the pulpit, designed to reflect the sermon into every crevice, for his talk.

The upstairs pews.

View from same.

Plaques and memorials hovered in various spots.

At this point we were free to wander. Some of our group opted for ice cream, but Joan and I revisited the East Church cemetery and then wandered down the street. The sign for the "big alley" -- Big Vennel -- featured a crest with three boars, which we considered auspicious.

Andrew Carnegie, the 19th Century Scottish-American steel magnate and philantropist, endowed Cromarty with the Hugh Miller Institute. Miller, born in Cromarty, was a self-taught 19th Century geologist, who tragically took his own life.

Our group reassembled, piled into the van, and set off back to the Coul House Hotel for dinner.


But the day was not yet over. After dinner those who were interested could participate in a trip to the Aigas Field Center, with hopes of seeing a pine marten or badger from an observation blind, also called a hide. Of course Joan and I boarded the van. She had briefly seen an American marten in Canada once, and I had never seen any variety.

A brief walk from the field center took us to the blind, where Jonathan deployed treats to lure a local pine marten, known as One-Spot, into view. 

We were advised to disarm shutter and all other camera noises and waited as the long, languid dusk at 57° N latitude deepened.

The stage was bathed in light of a color that wouldn't distract the wildlife. Now we, the audience, would struggle to stay awake waiting for the curtain to rise.

Time passed, at least two hours. Then One-Spot showed up, at 1o:24 by Jonathan's watch. She was there for a few moments but skittered away when sounds echoed up from the road.

Fortunately further patience was rewarded. One-Spot returned for more peanuts and honey.

We saw our first red deer, a small herd away up the hill. This was exciting at the time, but soon it would be commonplace. Badgers? They preferred to remain invisible.

After the drive back to Coul House Joan and I had one more task before going to bed. The requested luggage limit for the next five days/four nights away from Coul House was 35 pounds, more or less, and we both had partitioning of gear to perform. The stuff we didn't need for the next few days would be kept for us at Coul House. We fell exhausted into bed around 1:00.

Tomorrow, on to Lochinver.