Staffa Island, population zero. Long ago, it was formed by a volcano, which exploded a couple more times, which led to its interesting tripartite structure. It's a little hard to get to; you have to charter a boat or get into a tour group chartering a boat. There's a good one that includes the islands of Mull, Iona, and of course, Staffa.
It rained the whole time. It was fairly cold. The sea spray was wet. The rocks were slick. I cracked my elbow when I slipped on one. I turned my ankle when I stepped in a hole hidden by some brush. I kept having to pull up my pants because my pantlegs had absorbed so much water. I nearly tumbled into the ocean at one point. The boat nearly left without me.
All that being said, totally worth it. Dream come true. You can totally see why Queen Victoria, Mendelsson, and Tennyson went potty over it.
By the way, if someone gets seriously hurt on the island (or near it, in the case of Miss Thammavongsa), he'd be airlifted to Glasgow, not Castlebay. Oops.
No comments:
Post a Comment