AngusMcDoon
Well-Known Member
Now when people think of the UK’s remotest previously inhabited island they usually think of St Kilda. However, it isn’t – it’s Rona. I’ve found that most people south of Ben Arkle have never heard of it and don’t know there’s a small island lurking off the North West tip of Scotland. That includes me. I discovered its existence when I bought a bumper fun chart of the whole West coast of Scotland, and there it is, lurking right at the top. It’s shown right here by Boat Cat…
There’s a bit of Rona confusion, because as with seemingly most Highland place names, there’s more than one. They are unofficially known as North Rona and South Rona when there’s a need to distinguish. This trip report is about North Rona, not the soft southern Rona next to Raasay where visitors drink shandy from half pint glasses and eat crème fraiche. This is South Rona, and you can see how balmy it is…
North Rona is about 40 miles from both Cape Wrath and the Butt of Lewis, but neither of these places is boat friendly to start a passage from. It’s either 50 miles from Kinlochbervie, or 60 miles from Lochinver or Stornoway. As I did this trip on my own I decided I would depart from Kinlochbervie as it’s a long enough day there and back without adding another 20 miles and Stoer Head tidal shenanigans into the equation.
It’s not a difficult passage to Rona – 50 miles in a straight line each way and no bother from tides, but this bit of the realm is not known for its fair winds, calm seas or lime cordial in drinks. To get the right day, a wait is required, especially this year where summer has been cancelled in Scotland (and, of course, it’s Westminster’s fault). Kinlochbervie, however, is a place only enjoyed whilst asleep and by sheep. Apart from scenery, midgies, and a stonking great empty harbour, there’s diddly squat there. Even the bugs get bored. So that means a wait somewhere more salubrious, which was the relative metropolis of Lochinver. Getting from Lochinver to Kinlochbervie requires a day given that tide faffing has to be taken into account at the aforementioned Stoer Head, so two days of suitable weather are required.
To have any hope of landing on Rona the ever present wind has to be from the West-ish and to have been so for a day or two. The landing bay is completely open to the East. I wanted enough wind to sail, but light enough to be able to anchor on a dubious bottom and land straight onto rocks from the flubber. To have the right conditions, the luxury of the time to wait for them, and to be in Lochinver or Stornoway – well theses don’t come together very often in most people’s lives. I’ve wanted to get there for 13 years. But this week, it all lined up.
So I set off from Lochinver, got a good bumping in the Stoer race, got wet, arrived in Kinlochbervie, got bitten, got bored, and spent the rest of the time asleep.
I left at 4.30 in the morning the next day as there’s plenty of daylight this far north at this time of year. The wind was West, high F4/low F5, it was wet and miserable, and the sea state was grim – Atlantic swell with local chop superimposed. But we don’t do these things to enjoy ourselves, so I settled down for 50 miles of beating into the lumps and bumps.
It would be great to report details of daring do and heroics on the outward leg, but there was nothing of interest that happened at all. It was straight, dull, wet and the wind remained the same all the way other than a few squalls before showers. No ships, boats or scenery to look at. About the most interesting thing that happened was my multiple incidents of footware failure. First I had a structural issue with my shoe, and then water ingress with a welly. Getting gluing was something to do at least.
Despite the murk, when it wasn’t raining, the horizontal visibility was good. Just as Cape Wrath and the mainland were disappearing, Rona appeared over the horizon.
Following that, it took a long time before the hazy grey outline got some colour. You know you are getting close when you can see the green of the grass.
The approach is simple. There are some offlying rocks to the South, but they are easy to see and well above water. The sides of the island disappear into the depths close to the shore; there are no offlying horrors just below the waterline, not on the East side anyway.
I expected there still to be swell in the protected bay on the East, but it was like a millpond – no swell getting in at all. The hill with the lighthouse is pretty upendicular and drops steeply into the sea. The wind was only F2 in its lee. Down with the hook in 10m, trying not to think what it wasn’t holding onto down there. Beaches and sediments just don’t exist next to this island, they must have all be scoured and blown away.
Advice says when visiting here to leave someone on board as the holding is poor, but there was only Boat Cat and me there, so he stayed and I went ashore. I have to say it was a bit worrying. I didn’t go far from the landing spot and spent half the time looking over my shoulder at the boat. I can tell from afar if it is dragging by the angle it sits to the wind, but the anchor held. When I say landing spot, that’s a bit of a euphemism, because there is no landing spot. It’s choose which bit of slippery weedy rock you think may be a bit easier than all the others and scramble up.
There’s not much to look at there from the previous inhabitation, abandoned in 1884 apparently. There are a few low remains of stone walls.
Although sheep used to be grazed there (and poached by German U boats) there was no sign of any grazers now. The vegetation was completely different from anywhere else in Scotland I’ve seen – thick and luxuriant and full of wild flowers. I wonder if this is because of the lack of grass munchers on the island. What there are a lot of though are birds. I’ve never seen so many puffins.
{Another video here to come}
I had a quick walk across the island and looked over the other side. Wouldn’t want to try a landing there…
40 minutes there was enough pushing my luck, so back to the boat. Never been so glad that it was where I left it.
The wind dropped for the trip back and it was downwind too, which made it slow. In the evening it went to nothing.
Depart Kinlochbervie 4.30am
Arrive Rona 11.00am
Depart Rona 12 midday
Return to Kinlochbervie 9pm
Total 100 miles.
There are some more videos later, but the internet is slow here so they are not uploaded yet.
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