Otter

Westray is gorgeous, I’ve decided. 

We have a leisurely start, and plan a gentle day; I can’t really do anything else but take things easy. And Westray seems an island ideally suited to this - full of natural beauty, but without headline attractions that just can’t be missed. 

The harsh winds and icy temperatures have gone. The sky is mottled grey and blue, the breeze caresses gently rather than smacking you repeatedly across the face, and the air feels positively balmy. 

We visit the ruins of Noltland castle, once owned by Mary Queen of Scott’s notorious master of the household  - a man motivated by ‘not fear of God or love of virtue’; walk along a beautiful white-sand beach oh Grobust, edged by the ruins of tangle dykes where kelp was once processed for use in the production of soap and glass; and walk to the ruins of the medieval Cross Kirk dating back to 1140. This latter walk is along a rough path through nettles and other vegetation, a shore-side dyke built up from ancient ruins. The rocky shore is gorgeous - smooth grey rock slabs, white sand, with fingers of seaweed-covered outcrops stretching into the sea. 

I’m walking ahead - photographing flowers and insects; G is behind, scanning the sea with his binoculars. He’s already spotted harbour seals, lazing in the next bay, occasionally bellowing. But now he’s spotted something else entirely. Otters. 

To be precise, it’s one otter, swimming along the beach, its head bobbing up from time to time before he arches his back and dives, tail last to enter the water. And then the water-acrobatics stop, and there’s a clear swim towards the rocks, sudden speed parting the mirror surface into a mini wake. He climbs up onto a rock and starts to eat his catch of shellfish as we watch spellbound. 

The fish and feast routine continues three times in all, each time a different rocky table chosen for his meal, until he’s clearly had enough and heads off somewhere for a post-prandial nap. 

Of course, a great many shots are taken, but he is a long way off, and detail is a problem with the heavy crop needed despite my lens. But an otter is an otter, and I’m so thrilled both to have been privileged enough to watch one in the wild and to have captured images of the event. 

As extras, there’s Grobost beach, and the amazing sky at Pierowall tonight. 

Thank you for all your comments and kind wishes. By tonight I think the meds are finally kicking in….