St Pauls Island and the 3K Dead

St Paul’s island was an off the cuff idea. We were having a rainy day in Dingwall and there’s an Island 18 Miles off shore, what else did we have to do. The guide book offered no guidance, just anecdotes of people who had tried and failed to anchor there . We pottered out on the tide and weaved our way through the lobster pots to the open sea. Good breeze about 20knots and a building swell first time Steve had seen the boat out in some proper conditions, he seemed to like it. 3hours later we were closing the the island, I had picked out a bay on the south east side that looked the most likely to offer some shelter in the forecast conditions. As we rounded out to the north to get shelter behind the island Atlantic bay came into view. Not much wind in there but rock strung and the swell was wrapping round it didn’t look friendly at all. We motored gently north knowing there was another nitch a bit further up, I wasn’t feeling lucky and a trip home to safety was on the cards. The little rocky bay came into view , couple of seals playing, no wind no swell. But small and Rocky. We nosed n for a look. After some faff and indecision we dropped the bow anchor and set it. Then reversed up and set a stern anchor to control the swing amongst the rocks. Im feeling luckier. Time for a cuppa and asses the likelihood of risking a night in this little spot.
We launched the dinghy and set off south to see if there was any place we could get ashore. Again tricky but a little sport in atlantic bay wher we could scrabble up a cliff towards the wreck of an abandoned refuge. On route we hade to fight our way through deep grass and ferns. Felt like an adventure in proper isolation. After an hour or so nosing round the building and various out buildings we decided to head back to the dinghy by a slightly different route. It wasn’t any easier, hidden fences and trip hazards. This was the kind of little spots I was hoping to find and show Steve a Masher.
The decision was made we would stay the night in our little secure spot. There weather appeared to be constant. As a mid night exit from this spot would be a game. We sat out and watched the seals and birds around the boat until the spitfire sized mosquitos arrived and we had to lock ourselves inside again. We carried a few mossies in as we went but splattered them on the ceiling when they stopped for a rest. We had a secure night and woke up feeling that we had achieved something not many others had. A slow foggy sail back to Dingwall was on waiting.

The following day in Dingwall we saw there was a museum for St Paul’s Island. Strange we thought and popped in to see the locals who ran it. W were in for a surprise.
After a wander round the basics some photos of the island many years ago, a small light house tat had been moved to shore and some bits and bobs from the light house keeper from 100 years ago, we struck up a conversation with the ladies and told them we had been there the day before. They were a bit surprised and told us that we were not allowed on the island OOps!! We confessed and they were very interested in very things condition. Very friendly. They then began to tell us the story off the island. In essence ever since the people had used the sea in this area boats and ships would bump into the island in the fog and strong currents(before modern navigation aids.). Over the years more and more people ended up shopped wrecked on the island sometimes hundreds at a time. The problem was with thick fog and the on set of winter there was often no way to recover these people. The sea would freeze strung with icebergs and any way of getting to the island was impossible until spring. People from the main land would often see fires burning on the island after a wreckbut as time went on these fires would begin to cease as the people slowly died of starvation. Eventually a refuge was built on the island to give ant ship wrecked people a better chance of survival. It is now in ruins and was the building we scrabbled about in . There are 3000 graves on this small island about the size of Lundy and most of the people were buried under the ferns we fought our way through.

As it turned out a very interest 48 hours and learned a lot about what life was like in these remote and cold frontier places.Baca lagi