Way Out Where?

Here is a view of the lighthouse on Bass Rock, built on the site of an old castle. Walking among the gannets here was a surreal experience, one I am not sure I would want to repeat.

Early versions of the books included a chapter on a visit to The Bass. But I cut it out as it did not fit the 'Isles of the West' theme.  But direction is relative, for someone living in Dunbar The Bass is certainly to the west.

This perspective became evident when I had my first article published. It was in Scottish Islands Explorer back in 2003 when the magazine was based on Fair Isle. The article was about a visit to North Rona, and I anxiously waited for the magazine to arrive to see how the story looked. (This was long before you'd get a PDF to proof). When the magazine arrived what did I see on the cover? A teaser for the story that read: "Rona: Way out West", and here I was thinking I had ventured way up north. But to Linda Grieve, putting the magazine together on Fair Isle, Rona was not way up north, it was way out west.

Rona : Way out West

This directional perspective is also evident in Scottish Gaelic culture where "going up" meant a trip south, hence the term "Suas gu Deas" (Up to the south, or "Up sous").  A wonderful book that captures this perspective in an actual journey is Suas gu Deas by Angus Peter Campbell.

Planet Gannet 2

It was a privilege to be so close to these magnificent birds. It was also eerie. If they'd attacked en masse they could have had me for supper. For the most part they stood their ground as I walked past, but my presence was quite a disturbance. In hindsight I don't think I should have been allowed there.

That thought came back vividly fifteen years later. After spending two days on North Rona we headed over to Sulaisgeir. Gannets in the thousands were nesting on the island and a heavy swell precluded landing. But after remembering how bad I felt disturbing them on The Bass I wasn't terribly disappointed not to get ashore. It was just as exhilarating to view them from the sea. At one point several hundred simultaneously took flight from the side of the rock: a solid white mass of birds avalanching down to the sea. It looked like a glacier calving.

Planet Gannet 1

It is an odd feeling when you're outnumbered 150,000 to one. This sight greeted me after traversing the lightkeeper's walkway to the fog horn on the far side of Bass Rock. My few hours there were the most memorable of all my island visits. It was like being on another planet, and I the alien invader. As you can see, the birds were working hard to re-paint the red fog-horn. They'd chosen a shade I am thinking to patent. An honest name would be 'Stinky-Gannet-Guano', but for marketing purposes I'm going to call it 'Sea-Bird-Beige'.