The Isle of Skye is the largest island in the Scottish Inner Hebrides, boasting a huge abundance of spectacular wildlife (including the ever-present Golden and White-tailed Eagles) as well as beautiful walking trails and excellent fishing - an outdoorsman's paradise.
It's one of my favourite places to go in Scotland, and combines wildlife and ruralness with a good road system and accessible resources. For our 2020 trip, I had just started using the compact Fujifilm FinePix XP200 camera to film underwater with, which is small and very probably outdated by now, but still manages underwater shots in pretty good detail while also being shockproof.
After our arrival, we chose to stay local for the first couple of days, walking down to the tiny floating pontoon to see what was about and whether booking a boat was available for some bird and seawatching.
The tide was going out and the pontoon was well-established with sea life, boasting huge numbers of Mussels (Mytilus edulis), Shore Crabs (Carcinas maenas), and several clusters of nudibranch eggs, probably from the Sea Lemon (Archidoris pseudoargus) or a related species.
I lay on the jetty with my arms in the water and did a bit of preliminary photography and filming, testing the limitations and settings of the compact camera; within a few minutes of filming I caught a curious common blenny (Lipophrys pholis) who came out to see what I was doing and was immediately scared off by a juvenile Pollack (Pollachius pollachius). There were a lot of juvenile Pollack hanging around the jetty in small groups, around 10-20cm in length; presumably they become more pelagic with age, hanging around in the safety of shallow weedy water while they’re still small and vulnerable.
I was then pointed in the direction of a moderately-sized Lion’s-mane Jellyfish (Cyanea capillaris), which was moving slowly around and under the pontoon. After looking a little further, there were several individuals around us in the water, some of which had become entangled around ropes and the undersides of boats. During late summer and autumn, when these jellyfish are at their maximum size and reaching the end of their lifespan, they are often washed inshore on the currents. There are often dead ones washed up on the shore, but it’s always significantly nicer seeing live adults pulsating about underwater. The jellyfish we were observing was entangled in a metal divider that held together two parts of the jetty; as we watched it managed to untangle itself, leaving a small number of tentacles still attached to the pontoon. After putting the camera back in the water to film a beautiful orange sponge, I got stung on the back of my hand; a single patch of sting, which felt like that of a nettle but lasted for much longer. It surely can't be too pleasant to brush an entire arm or a leg into those tentacles!
1: Lion's mane jellyfish
2: the very end of a tentacle, equipped with stinging nematocysts.
I found myself rushing backwards and forwards across the jetty attempting to film a shoal of Mackerel (Scomber scombrus), which had made their way inshore and had been hunting underneath us. I took a lot of video footage, but very little that was presentable enough to use. They looked beautiful from above moving as a group with open mouths, glittering gold and green on top, occasionally rippling the surface where they gathered in excitement. The pollack were slightly smaller than the mackerel but didn’t seem particularly bothered by them; I thought this was strange, considering we had seen Mackerel hunting fish that were almost the same size several times on previous visits. Perhaps they picked up on some behavioural cues that we couldn’t see.
After the mackerel had departed, we noticed that several more jellyfish had now made their way around the pontoon, and the water below us was a mass of tentacles. Lion’s-mane Jellyfish are extremely long in total length, with tentacles that typically extend several tens of feet behind them. The length of the tentacles typically corresponds to the bell diameter of the jellyfish, so ones with larger overall mass are likely to have longer tentacles – the world record holder lion’s mane was around 6 feet in bell diameter, with tentacles that reached 120 feet behind it. Even after the bell of an average-sized jellyfish (with a bell no more than 1-1.5 feet in diameter) was ten or fifteen feet away, you could still see trailing tentacles in the clear water which would be easy to miss if you didn’t realise they were there.
Such a thing had obviously happened to a small fish, which we noticed swimming aimlessly around at the surface of the water after the mackerel had disappeared. It was conscious and swimming, but obviously stunned or envenomated (or had something otherwise wrong with it), as its movements were slow and clumsy and it seemed uncoordinated.
There is something particularly relaxing about filming things underwater and watching the footage back; perhaps it was the rocking of the pontoon that was responsible, or looking at the sea life that was so calming - the same effect you get when watching an aquarium.
Claigan Coral Beach is a fantastic place to visit on the island; it has a quite unique-looking shoreline composed of fossilised, sun-bleached algae, alongside beautiful landscapes and several small hills to view the beach from. The water is very clear, producing some lovely colours both above and below the sea.
While we were stood at the top of the hill which overlooks the bay, we were distracted by a large, hovering moth which flew around us several times (evading the butterfly net effectively). It was about the same size and dimensions as a Hummingbird Hawk Moth but a different colour and slightly fatter, with large, ‘clubbed’ antennae. After brief deliberation, we came to the conclusion that the only thing it could possibly be was a Narrow-bordered Bee Hawk Moth (Hemaris tityus), a relatively uncommon species none of us had ever seen before. They are of conservation concern in Scotland, with efforts being concentrated on connecting isolated populations. This one was a late-flying adult, and may have arrived from a neighbouring island or peninsula. The habitat surrounding the coral beach was perfect for these moths; heather and short-cropped vegetation coupled with an abundance of Devil’s Bit Scabious (Succisa pratensis), their larval foodplant. We excitedly looked for caterpillars (which are reaching their maximum size in mid-August) without success, although we did find the larva of the Scabious Sawfly (Abia sericea) instead.
The day after, we went to Eynort loch, which is a relatively small, and seemingly underrated walking area. We arrived as the tide was coming in, so we didn’t get to explore the strandline by the tiny car park much, but there was an extremely large amount of plastic and industrial waste washed in.
We explored the forest at Eynort instead of the beach this time, which was very diverse in terms of flora and fauna. The forest rides were wide and well-gravelled, surrounded by verges of umbellifers and rosebay willowherb. These plants attracted a lot of insects, including the hoverflies Eristalis and Eriozona syrphoides, plenty of Blowflies (Calliphora vomitoria) – not an insect with huge public popularity, but an important decomposer. My family discovered a pond packed with toad and frog tadpoles, newt larvae, and further down in a tiny stream, a water-beetle of the genus Dytiscus. There were also several unfortunately dead adult Common Toads (Bufo bufo) on the track.
1: Eynort forest.
2: Buff-tip (Phalera bucephala) caterpillars 3: Dytiscus
4: C. vomitoria
5: tadpole
Plus a beautiful newly-emerged Peacock (Aglais io)!
Talisker bay is a fairly sheltered beach surrounded by cliffs, with a rocky shore comprised of large boulders to smallish pebbles, all very rounded by the action of waves and wind. While many come here for the scenic views and sea (which are excellent), I was excited for a different reason: an incredible strandline. Because of its location – both within Skye and the wider area – a lot of flotsam and jetsam gets funnelled in and washed up. I suppose the many kelp holdfasts that get thrown up could be an indicator of rough seas further out. There is a small river that cuts the beach in half, which was swollen from previous rain and impassable on our last visit three years previously.
I suspected that there might not be as much on the strandline to look at; the recent nice weather meant that the sea had been fairly calm, and I had seen a lot of anecdotes of there being less plastic waste washed up during the lockdown of the last few months. However, on entering the beach I discovered (to mixed emotions) that it appeared the exact opposite was true: there was more plastic and man-made rubbish piled up than I had ever seen. A lot of it was organised into heaps further up the beach and on the grass by beach cleaners, but a good deal still remained on the strandline. The wind was extremely high – my waterproof was flapping so vigorously it was making a tearing noise, and the spray on the waves was being blown back out to sea. The flow of water on the waterfall towards the right of the beach was being blown backwards inland.
I decided to have a root about; I can make good use of driftwood, beach rope and other curios that I find on the strandline in various ways, and I was spoiled for choice when it came to this one.
I passed a badly-decomposing seal on my search, which had an interesting bottom jaw, filled with very worn-looking teeth. The size and dimensions of the skull and large teeth identified it as a Grey Seal (Halichoerus grypus), with Harbour Seal skulls being much more petite, with smaller teeth.
The two bottom right-hand pictures are from nearby Glenbrittle beach and Eynort loch, which both also boast an interesting set of shorelines!
It is well worth mentioning that, aside from the odd crisp packet and flip flop, virtually none of the litter was typical ‘beachgoer’ rubbish. It was industrial and plastic waste from fishing vessels: rope of all colours, knots, pieces of crate, snapped plastic pot-hooks and rope-fasteners, buckets and parts of containers, net floats, pieces of foam from sea-smashed large floats, buoys, gloves, and netting. I feel as though beachgoers have had a somewhat unfair reputation when it comes to leaving litter; some (like the carnage that was left in the wake of reopening beaches this year) was entirely justified, but the plastic that appeared to be clogging up the sea here is nearly all from industry.
Several organisations operate around the Inner and Outer Hebrides cleaning marine litter, including Surfers against Sewage and Clean Coast Outer Hebrides.
I don’t know who it was that had cleaned the strandline at Talisker; it could have been an organisation or local landowner, or visitors - whoever it was had obviously put in some graft (those huge nets are very heavy), and had done an excellent job.
I saw a few people making their way back to their vehicles with rubbish from the piles, too – bits of netting and old lobster pots, obviously destined to be souvenirs or upcycling projects. I enjoy seeing this, as it means that I’m not the only person on the beach to see potential in the flotsam and jetsam, and it means that previously-harmful (and non-degradable) netting tangles and plastic pieces get a new lease of life becoming a garden feature or an art project.
After the weekend, we decided on a whim to visit the neighbouring island of Raasay. This small island is nestled between Skye and mainland Scotland, with beautiful views of the Black Cuillins as well as different environments to explore.
There is a tiny village - Inverarish - about a mile away from the ferry dock, which we headed into before taking a trail in Inverarish Forest up to a viewpoint. The habitat was upland bog and moorland, with plenty of heather, sphagnum moss, grasses and sedges. We found plenty of newly-metamorphosed Common Toads, as well as plenty of Ravens (Corvus corax) and Hooded Crows (Corvus cornix), which are plentiful in this area.
1: Scotch argus butterfly (Erebia aethiops)
2: Hoverfly
3 & 4: Burying beetle (Nicrophorus investigator) heading into a poo bin!
Additionally, the jetties on both Raasay and Sconser (where the ferry departs from) are very biodiverse, packed with rockpool and marine life. At Sconser, I found Chitons (Lepidochitona cinerea), Common Starfish (Asterias rubens), the usual Winkles (Littorina littorea) and Flat Periwinkles (L. obtusata); under almost every rock were Butterfish (Pholis gunellus) too, more than I’d ever seen in one place before. One extremely large seaweed bladder (pictured below) seemed to be a rather mutant-looking form of the Egg Wrack (Ascophyllum nodosum) which can be seen in the upper right-hand corner.
1: Butterfish
2: Common Starfish 3: Mega-bladder!
We did some rockpooling several times at the nearby beach of Fiskavaig (Fiscavaig), a flat sandy beach with a deceptively sparse covering of rocks.
Here there was a large amount of marine life, including Hermit Crabs inhabiting every available Dogwhelk, Winkle and Top Shell, plenty of Common Starfish, blennies, and Butterfish, several Sea Lemons, and a large number of Green Sea Urchins (Psammechinus miliaris), which were a lot of fun to watch and photograph. Fiskavaig can be notorious for having fast-moving tides - the beach is sandy and flat, and the tide comes in rapidly. You can easily miss it and get caught out if you are crouching down looking at something. Luckily, if you get caught out on the flats or near the rocky areas towards the beach edge the worst outcome is likely to be wet feet, as the tide is fairly shallow, but it's always worth exercising caution nonetheless.
I also discovered a live Whelk (Buccinum undatum), not an uncommon sight but also not particularly frequent so far inshore.
Our second trip to Neist Point of the holiday was significantly more successful than the first, which was chilly and rough. The weather was fine, with blue skies and calm waters. The seawatching success at this location is all down to the currents, which often merge close to shore, drawing in plankton and trapping fish. The basalt columns near to these currents drop off sharply, creating underwater ‘cliffs’ which ensure the water becomes deep immediately after the rocks.
Neist is also famed for its cetacean-watching; our very first trip there over a decade ago was by far the best day we’ve had, with Gannets plunge-diving and Minke Whales surfacing less than ten yards from shore. Since then, we haven’t had the same success (yet!), but it’s always a worthwhile walk, and the birdwatching is great.
We took our place on a basalt column as a family next to us spotted a Minke Whale (Balaenoptera acutorostrata) with their binoculars, which we unfortunately couldn’t pinpoint. The day’s subsequent bird list was impressive; there were the usual Shags (Phalacrocorax aristotelis), Kittiwakes (Rissa tridactyla), Greater Black-backed Gulls (Larus marinus) and Fulmars (Fulmarus glacialis); additionally, there were a lot of rather tatty-looking Razorbills (Alca torda), a single Red-throated Diver (Gavia stellata), and Great Skua / Bonxie (Stercorarius skua) further out, and a few Manx Shearwaters (Puffinus puffinus) skimming the waves. However, the real stars of the show were the gannets. The Northern Gannet (Morus bassanus) has roughly the same wingspan as the golden eagle, but (in my opinion) uses it to perform stunts that would make any eagle feel envious; as the currents swept further inshore the Gannets followed, diving in after fish with needle-like precision. They would plunge close enough that we could hear the smack of the water closing in after the bird had disappeared beneath the surface.
The Fulmars would alight on the surface of the water in groups of around 6 or 7 and sit there, presumably catching fish and plankton just under the surface. They would periodically be disturbed by a large Bonxie, which would soar menacingly low over the group. If the Fulmars weren’t fast enough in escaping (particularly the ones that had been fishing and had just resurfaced) the Skua would land directly on top of them and hold their heads underwater until they regurgitated whatever they had caught.
In addition, my family glimpsed a few dolphins in the bay, while I was focusing on a pair of Harbour Porpoises (Phocoena phocoena) and had a suspicious sighting which was likely a Minke far out in the sea, which surfaced once and then did not do so again.
We went fishing later that night, where the conditions were near-perfect for inshore marine life: gathering dusk on a rising tide. I had lots of fun filming crabs under the water, with shoals of small pollack swimming past in the background.
Unfortunately, I neglected to recharge the battery in my camera and it failed before the real show started: Pollack and Shore Crabs swarming in to get hold of bait remains, interacting with each other and eating. However, I got some fairly nice footage beforehand, including some energetic barnacles feeding in the water and a Shore Crab who quickly decided that my camera was more interesting than the barnacles on the rock surface.
Some additional highlights included:
We stopped for a large beetle crossing the road, which turned out to be Carabus glabratus. It was not happy with the helping hand we provided, and nipped strongly at any hand that attempted to touch it.
Tom set a blowfly trap baited with a Mackerel head one night, which caught several Burying Beetles by accident in the bottom. There were three species represented by four individuals: one Nicrophorus humator, two N. investigator, and one N. vespilloides. We kept two overnight - one N. investigator and one N. humator - both covered in phoretic mites. Burying Beetles are energetic, so we kept them until the next day in the hope that they’d calm down enough to be photographed. They were just as active in the morning so we released them, but during the night most of the mites from the large N. humator had migrated onto the little N. investigator, which made for a comical sight when I took the lid off their tub.
Skye as usual was fantastic, and is definitely a place worth visiting for any wildlife enthusiast as well as catering strongly to walkers. While the charismatic wildlife such as eagles, whales and dolphins are great, it also supports a network of much smaller but no less charismatic invertebrates and marine life.