North Rona - A Year Later

Here I am spending my afternoons sitting on my deck, tossing peanuts to blue jays and squirrels. They are very happy I'm here, but I can't help looking back to where I was a year ago this week. I was on far off North Rona, on my fourth cruise as a guide on Hjalmar Bjorge. I was looking forward to seeing Rona again, as eight years had passed since my last visit in 2011.

After a walk to the lighthouse we explored the village ruins, a clusters of cells and rectangular structures built along the south side of the monastic cashel. 

At times, upwards of thirty people lived on Rona, surviving off the birds, seals, and the island’s seventeen arable acres. It was a hard life, and the entire population starved to death at least once. In the early 1800s only six acres were under cultivation, and the last permanent residents left in 1839.

The stellar attraction of the village is St Ronan’s Cell and Church. The cell dates to the seventh or eighth century; the church added to its west end in the thirteenth century. The only entrance to the cell is low in the east wall of the church. Several inches of muck usually cover the ground, and as the portal is only a metre high you have to squat down to enter. Once inside it is clear this is not an ordinary beehive. The high rectangular interior, similar to some of the large beehives on Skellig Michael, and one of the cells on the Flannans, signifies it as an oratory.

There are many other beehives on Rona, but aside from Ronan’s Cell they are in a very sorry state. There is also a rectangular structure called the Manse, adjacent to the cashel wall, built from the stones of a dozen beehives that once stood there. And just north of Ronan’s cell are two mounds that mark the sites of beehives cannibalized to build the church.

And so as I toss peanuts to the jays and squirrels in the summer of 2020, I dream of visiting Rona once again. I am signed onto Northern Lights Rona/Sula Sgeir cruise next June, and dearly hope I'll be allowed to visit the UK to set foot, once again, on far off Rona - and finally attempt a landing on Sula Sgeir of the gannets. Thinking positive, I've told the squirrels and jays they'll be on their own next summer. 

The Adventures of Hjalmar Bjorge - Season 4, Episode 3

The Continuing Adventures of Hjalmar Bjorge
Season 4 - Episode 3 - Rona, Sula & Carloway

Exploring the Isles of the West Cruise    July 10-19, 2019

Sunday morning saw us bid goodbye to Ness as we set a course north to Rona. It was a grey, overcast day, but the sea was calm, which made me smile, as it meant a landing was very likely. Four hours after setting off we dropped the anchor in Geodha a' Stoth on the east side of the island.

Once ashore we took the time to celebrate by posing for a group photo. We had even more reason to celebrate, the forecast was good, and it looked like we'd have all day to explore.

From Left to right: Don, John, Maggie, Doreen, Dave, Wolfgang, Nigel, Steve, Leif, and Jan

It was a warm hike up the central ridge to the lighthouse. It is a relatively new light, built in 1984 to safeguard the increasing tanker traffic in the area. Oddly, the ladder to the roof of the lighthouse is not locked, and some of us took the opportunity to climb to the top. In the below photo of the lighthouse you can see John atop the light, ecstatic to reach one of the most remote lighthouses in Britain.

Next up was a visit to the village, the site of various settlements that date back well over 1,000 years. The walk there entailed crossing bonxie city, and so we had to endure repeated aerial assaults as we descended to the village.

Just above the village we came to the researcher's shack that has been here for several years. I was last on Rona in 2011, and had had a wee nip of Laphroig from its well-stocked bar. In addition to the Laphroig, there had been bottles of Bunnahabhain and Glenfiddich, several cans of Belhaven and Guinness, and an odd-smelling bottle of Zolios Green Nines (Lithuanian) liqueur. But time, and the occasional tourist, has taken its toll. Except for the nearly empty Laphroig, and the mostly-full bottle of Green Nines, the bar was looking pretty bare.

The shack bar in 2019

The shack bar in 2011

We spent some time exploring the village. It is an amazing collection of dwellings, the centrepiece being St Ronan's Chapel, which lies inside the Celtic Christian cashel that dates to the 8th century. The chapel, with its connected beehive cell, is one of my favourite places in the Hebrides. It is always exciting to crawl into the cell, wondering if you'll get spit on by nesting fulmars. There were, in fact, two fulmars inside, one on each side of the altar. They were understandably agitated, so I slowly backed out of the cell.

As we were looking at the other ruins in the village, we noticed one of the fulmars quickly exit the cell. With only one bird inside, it was a safe bet we'd be able to get in without being spewed on. And so, one by one, several of us went in to take a look at the surprisingly large cell: the oratory of St Ronan.

Just as we were leaving the village we noticed a runner approaching. Michelle had been given some shore leave, and had run over the ridge to the village. I took her on a short tour of the site, and then we headed back up the hill. (Along the way the two of us managed to deplete (very slightly) the stock of Laphroig in the shack.

After our tour around the village everyone spread out to explore on their own. I slowly made my way back over the ridge to sit for a half hour at the north tip of the island. The local residents were none too pleased to see me, and made a quick dash to get out of the way.

At the north end there was no sign of the Moray Adventurer, which washed up there in 1996. I'd seen bits of the wreckage in 2011, but all that has since washed away. It would be amazing to see this spot in the winter, when it is awash with seals. But on this pleasant July day, it was just myself and several hundred fulmars and terns, who were not too happy to see me. This spot is about as isolated as it gets, the nearest landfall to the north some 200 miles away: the Faeroes.

The north end - next stop the Faroes

Around 6pm we all returned to the ship for an amazing Sunday roast - always my favourite evening meal on these trips. As we ate, the skipper was pondering a request. Steve had asked if he could spend the night in the village to experience the night-time return of the petrels. The idea had caught on, and soon Dave and Jan had asked if they could join in. The forecast looked good, but things can suddenly change, and Mark might need to pull anchor and get away fast. He agreed to set the four campers ashore for the night, provided that they return to the landing to sleep, so it would be easy to retrieve them in a hurry if the need arose.

After supper the three adventurers, sleeping mats in hand (cushions from the topside lockers), were set ashore. In the waning twilight we watched them climb the ridge to the village. Would they return - or would they be eaten by midges?

I was the first one up Monday morning. It was 6am, and standing in the early morning light, 100 metres away on the rocky shore, stood three figures. They seemed a little agitated: as it turned out they were being eaten alive by midges. Even so, they'd had a wonderful night experiencing the arrival of the petrels at midnight, and their departure back to sea at 3am. At 7am Mark fired up the inflatable, and the three campers were back aboard in time for breakfast.

The campers return

After breakfast the anchor was raised, and we set a course west to the isle of gugas, Sulaisgeir.

Sula on the horizon

Sula is one of those iconic islands I've always wanted to land on. It is well known for the annual guga hunt, when the men of Ness come out to harvest their allotted 2000 guga. (A guga is the young gannet, and is a Gaelic word for a fat, clumsy person.)

My interest in Sula is not so much the guga hunt, but the historic Teampull Sulaisgeir, a beehive-cell chapel that sits on the only level bit of ground: something I would love to see firsthand. But landing here is not easy. There is no anchorage, so even if the sea is calm you still need the skipper to keep the boat safely in place, while someone else gets people ashore, which can require setting a rope.

Teampull Sùlaisgeir - Photo © john m macfarlane (cc-by-sa/2.0)
Licensed for reuse - https://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/1032175

Even though we could not land, the sight of thousands of gannets wheeling overhead made for a memorable experience. We floated underneath this amazing aerial display for the better part of an hour.

After leaving Sula behind we had about 50 nautical miles of motoring ahead of us to reach our haven for the night, Loch Carloway, on the west side of Lewis. Just as we entered the loch the sun came out, shining down as we leisurely motored to find an anchorage near the head of the loch.

There are some interesting walks in the area. Half of the guests wanted to pay a visit to the Carloway broch, the other half wanted to do a walk in Laimisiadair, the beautiful glen on the north side of the loch. So we split into two groups. One headed to the broch, and I went with the others to Laimisiadair. There was something I wanted to show them, something wonderful, something I'd found on my third hike through the glen a few years ago. It was Tobar Chiarain: St Ciarain's Well.

Laimisiadair

There was a monastery here long ago. The St Ciarain (also spelled Kieran) that the site is dedicated to may be the same Kieran who died in AD 548, and is associated with Kilcheran on Lismore.

St Ciarain's Well

The entire glen is covered with ruins. Whatever structures existed at the time of the monastery have been robbed of their stone to build an extensive township. It was a beautiful way to end the day, and back aboard we learned that the group who'd tried to visit the Carloway broch had failed, as due to falling stone the site was closed to the public.

That aside, we had all been very fortunate. We'd landed on Rona, and safely made our way to Carloway. The next destination on the itinerary was Flannan. Would we be pushing our luck to try for it?  Possibly. But what the hell, in the morning we'd give it a try.

History of Rona

I am looking forward to setting foot on Rona again this coming July (see this link). So I was delighted to be told of a new website dedicated to the history of Rona. Here is what its author, Jonathan Machin, told me about his vision for the website:

Rona represents one of the few true wildernesses left in the UK, granted protection by its isolation – more than 40 miles from the nearest inhabited land – and made wild by the harsh Atlantic Ocean. The very existence of such a place seems to defy the every-day mundanity of my own city life. Yet despite its remoteness, the island of Rona is layered thick with history, its unique location and circumstances providing the perfect backdrop to the human stories that fill it. History of Rona seeks to give a glimpse of what it was like to live on Rona, and illustrate just some of epic stories that come out of this most remote island.

If Rona is of interest, whether you are an armchair traveler, or planning to visit the island, be sure to take a look at Jonathan's website History of Rona.

Rona - Ten Months and Counting

Ten months and counting. That's when I hope to return to Rona on Hjalmar Bjorge. I was fortunate, back in 2011, to have visited the island on Hjalmar Bjorge for two consecutive days of perfect weather (see Chapter 29 of Book 2).

There is only one spot left on our 2019 cruise to Rona (for a male sharing a cabin) - see this Northern Lights page for more information; and for more posts on Rona see this link.

Here is a short video that shows what it's like high atop the wheelhouse of Hjalmar Bjorge on the approach to Rona. Come join us for an experience like this; one, among many, you'll never forget.

Something Amazing

I saw something truly amazing during my visit to Lewis last year. My wife and I were staying in a cottage on Great Bernera, and one day we decided to drive to Stornoway to visit Museum nan Eilean at Lews Castle. The museum was fantastic, and as I was looking at the various items on display I noticed an unusual dark green stone mounted high on a wall. It was egg shaped, with veins of lighter green running through it: a talisman of some kind. In an instant a memory of something I read 30 years ago popped into my head, and I knew what it was before reading the adjacent information plaque. Before me was something fantastic; something I thought I'd never see.

What was it?  It was something Frasier Darling found over 80 years ago buried below the altar of St Ronan's Cell in far off North Rona.

St Ronan's Cell (beehive cell oratory at left)

Inside the oratory - altar (and fulmar) at bottom

Here is Darling's description (from A Naturalist on Rona; pp. 43-44) of what he found while excavating the altar in St Ronan's cell:

As I was digging at floor level beside the altar my spade was deflected from a rounded stone which, even in the dim light of the cell, showed green. My first thought was - Iona Marble - a stone of which I am familiar, for I always carry some small pieces in my pocket. I picked up the stone, washed it, and found a piece of smooth, dark-green marble about the size and shape of a sheep's heart. There was an intricate veining of lighter green. No rock of this kind occurs naturally on Rona, and, found in this place of all others, I wondered if St Ronan had been to the collage of Iona and had brought this piece of stone to his church on Rona to be a symbol of the mother foundation.... this stone has left Rona with me, so that it may be seen by antiquaries and men of science, and that it may not be lost. But it must go back to its place as part of Ronan's altar and not be kept by me or placed in a museum. I have left a token of good faith of my present custodianship by burying three of my own pebbles of Iona marble in the masonry of the altar. Fanciful, perhaps, but it has pleased me so to do.

Oh how I wish I'd taken a photo of the Rona stone when I saw it in the museum. But I did not have a camera with me, and even if I did I doubt that the docents in the museum would have approved of taking a photo. 

So next time you are in Stornoway be sure to pay a visit to Museum nan Eilean at Lews Castle. And while there take the time to find a beautiful green stone mounted high on the wall - it is easy to miss. Darling did not want to see it end up in a museum, but I think it's the best place for it; although I wonder how many tourist who see it truly appreciate this ancient relic of island history.

If you are interested in visiting North Rona consider joining our ten-day cruise in July of 2019.

Postscript (May 6, 2018): I was just reading DDC Pochin Mould's book Irish Pilgrimages. On page 81 there is a description of a stone strikingly similar to the one found on Rona:

Martin Martin (1695) tells of St Moluag's Ball... this is Moluag of Lismore, who was originally a monk of Bangor in Ireland before crossing to Scotland. The stone was round and green, 'about the bigness of a goose egg'; it was used for swearing oaths, for curing stitches, and for throwing at enemies armies, the opposing force being flung into confusion and at once running away. Macdonald of the Isles was said to have carried the stone and always to have been victorious when he had it with him. The stone had a hereditary keeper of the Clan Chattan.

This makes me wonder if at some point St Moluag's stone found its way to Rona.

North Rona - A Return

The dates have been set for my 2019 guide trip. It will run from July 10 - 19, and the primary destination will be North Rona. I have been fortunate to have visited Rona on two occasions. The first was in 2002; an exhilarating, but short, visit on the ship Poplar Diver skippered by Rob Barlow (see Chapter 28 of Book 2). 

Approaching Rona - MV Poplar Diver

Poplar Diver at Rona

My second Rona visit was in 2011 aboard MV Hjalmar Bjorge, skippered by Mark Henrys (see chapter 29 of book 2).

Approaching Rona - MV Hjalmar Bjorge

Hjalmar Bjorge at Rona

I am looking forward to returning to Rona in July of 2019; a suspenseful 17 months away. I say suspenseful because any visit to Rona is dependent on conditions. But the odds, in my case, anyway, have been fairly good. Only one of three attempts to get there over the years has failed. The unsuccessful attempt was in 2009. Although conditions precluded getting to Rona that time, we had some excellent Plan B options: Setting foot on Tanera Mor, Isay, South Rona, Shiants, Scalpay, Skye, Canna and Muck. (The Isay visit is described in chapter 4 of book 2).

Below are some photos of Rona from 2011. If visiting this far-off isle appeals, consider joining us in 2019. Getting there is, as always, dependent on sea conditions. But if anyone can get you there it's Mark Henrys at the helm of Hjalmar Bjorge.

Sula seen from Rona (zoom)

Departing Rona