A kayak to Stroma is not to be taken lightly
OUT AND ABOUT WITH RALPH: Experienced paddlers can make use of tides to get across the Pentland Firth and explore the once inhabited island
Amazingly, it is seventeen years since I first kayaked solo to the uninhabited island of Stroma, and I’ve been over once or twice every year since.
A Stroma trip is, though, never to be taken lightly, lots can go wrong! Don’t even think about it if you haven’t a competent understanding of tides, weather and sea conditions.
Get it right on a settled day and you’ll wonder what all the fuss is about. You need careful timing but a circumnavigation of the island can seem as easy as a trip on a smooth loch. Get it wrong…
For the inexperienced, it is easiest to wait for a day of neap tides and light winds then paddle across at slack water from Gills or Huna, spend a few hours on the island and paddle back at the next slack. Often, though, in settled weather the south-east wind picks up as the day goes on, and the sea can get very choppy, especially as tide runs against the wind.
Having been caught more than once and found myself fighting back to the mainland with waves coming from all sides, once taking an hour and a half to make the crossing of just a couple of miles, I never go if a rising south-easterly is forecast. Calm weather can, though, mean fog.
I’m used to navigating by compass and once made the trip from Groats in dense fog, paddling across in my own little circle of water till the Stroma harbour emerged from the mist, which then cleared to an amazing day of sunshine. But I would not recommend it.
When you have more experience you can use the tides to help you across from Gills or Groats, but with just normal tides in the Inner Sound there are places where the current can exceed 10 knots and some experience of white-water paddling is a good idea. Spring tides can be pretty ferocious and are best observed from the Orkney Ferry!
To paddle right round the island you need to pass through the notorious Swilkie whirlpool below the lighthouse at slack water – there is a little more leeway at low tide but even on neaps there is not a lot of time.
I’ve been across in early March when snow streaked the hills of Hoy and the guillemots were beginning to crowd the cliff ledges near the Gloup. I’ve been across in late November when the island is taken over by grey seals and their pups. This time, a very settled April day’s weather coinciding with a good neap tide was not to be missed.
The air was cold but the sun was hot enough for shorts, I had a few hours to explore the cliffs, moors and old houses before setting off again round the island. It seemed that Stroma was just waking after winter, the grasses yellow and dead.
Wild geese had arrived to breed and already had nests with eggs, but no terns or swallows yet. Sheep, soon to lamb, grazed peacefully. Such a quiet, other-worldly place, once busy with people.
Heading out from the harbour into little white-crested waves, the west-going tide hurried me round the Stroma beacon then on up the west coast through narrow slots and past the famous Gloup. The tunnel through the cliffs looks enticing but is dangerous in swells, and the swell was now too big to try it.
Stand on the mainland by the Dunnet Head road where it passes Heathsfield Wood, look across with binoculars, and you can see right through.
Where, though, were the seabirds? Just a few kittiwakes and almost no guillemots. Far less than I’ve ever seen here in the spring.
There’s always a sense of achievement in paddling past the lighthouse and reaching the relative safety of the east coast, but even here you can get caught out by eddying tides. Grey seals, now moulting, lay out in the sun on the slabby rocks. I always stop for a break at the old lighthouse pier, but not for long if the tide is picking up.
Fog banks threatened to the north and east causing large ships to suddenly vanish from sight, but the fog never moved closer than Duncansby Head where it hovered all afternoon.
Now with the difficulties mostly over, I could enjoy paddling below the low cliffs in the sunshine, before heading back across gently rippling waters as the tide took me back eastwards to Groats. No, I hadn’t needed my emergency repair kit. Or my radio, locator beacon or phone. Or the spare food and warm jacket in case I had to overnight. But, when paddling to Stroma, to fail to plan is to plan to fail…