A trip to Ailsa Craig part 2.
13th February 2011
As we steamed onward, I glanced outside and saw the sky had began to glow a deep pink above the sharp outline of Arrans' mountains.
Chir Mor, Casteil Abheil, and the familiar pyramid of Goat Fell had started to assume their daylight guises, and as the light grew stronger, I also discovered the boat was surrounded by a small group of Kittiwakes and Lesser Black backed Gulls.
My Brother and Robbie had retired for a couple of hours rest before the fishing began later in the morning.
The skipper Richard had assumed navigation duties, and after a few interesting moments conversation with him, I decided to check out the growing birdlife outside.
The Kittwakes were incredibly tame, and Richard had assured me that the birds could sometimes be persuaded to take a small piece of fish liver from a gutting knife.
Later I found this (or something very similar) to be true, but for the moment I was content watching them from very close range as they cackled disagreeably with each other, and air danced around the Shangri La’s bow.
Around 7 am the sun finally broached the horizon, and to the south east, Ailsa Craig loomed larger than I had ever seen it.
More and more I was starting to see Gannets. Some purposefully flying west in small arrow straight groups, others drifting by on the glassy water, washing and preening. This, I fancifully imagined, was that most maritime of birds desperate attempts to rid itself of all traces of the unfamiliar rocks on which it had spent the lengthening September night.
Further east we sailed, until finally Ailsa Craig was only half a mile distant - a towering green and white monolith sparkling in the bright morning sunshine. The crew were awoken, breakfast taken, then the nets were shot for the first time that day.
I am an animal lover, all animals, there are no exceptions……well, perhaps midges! But I have to say that watching animals of any sort hunted and killed for food does not sit easy with me.
So, I tried to studiously ignore the huge wriggling pile of Norwegian Lobster and various small fish dumped on board as the skilled crew of the Shangri La brought the nets up for the first time that day.
I concentrated instead on the large amount of Gannets that had started to show interest in the trawler as soon as the nets began to be lifted from the sea bed.
They seemed to know exactly when it was time.
As soon as the boats engine tone signalled that the tow was over, and the catch would be winched on board; they began to fly over towards us, plunging gently into the water alongside.
As the bottom of the net reached the surface, and the catch inside was revealed for the first time, they surprised me by taking to the air, gaining height, and diving straight down into the mesh itself.
Occasionally, I was told, the odd bird would get entangled, and would have to be released by the crew. No big deal really, considering that sometimes it can be a Grey seal which gets itself trapped. A nightmare scenario which requires a lot of brute strength, a great deal of care, and a few rudimentary stairs made from fish-boxes to return Sammy over the side and safely back to the sea.
I tried to get shots of the Gannets as they plunge dived straight into the net.
This was difficult as the birds move at great speed doing this, and the light was still not strong enough to allow me to crank the shutter speed up to sufficient levels.
I was however, able to obtain a few decent images before the catch was finally lifted, and once again the Gannets had become quiet.
Nets on a shellfish boat are designed to catch just that, but the occasional deep water fish comes up with the catch too.
Amongst these I noticed: Flounders and Dabfish, Ribbon fish, and the locally nicknamed ‘Dougie Poll’ This ferocious looking deep sea dweller is better known as the Sculpin, and is covered in slime, and poisonous spines.
But even these were gladly (if cautiously) accepted by the Gannets and Gulls as the catch was sorted.
It was strange to watch this huge and majestic seabird begging for handouts from the crew, somewhat like a duck at the local pond.
By this time the sun had risen fairly high in a flawless blue sky, and my spirits soared as I realised the weather would almost certainly stay like this for the rest of the day.
The temperature also began to rise, and I gladly stripped off my fleece and jacket to better soak in the welcome warmth.
Even though it was early September, the vast majority of Gannets at sea were adult.
Only the very occasional brown speckled Juvenile, or ‘Guga’ was seen.
It takes these big birds a very long time to fledge, and eggs laid in March or April don’t leave the cliffs as juveniles in any great numbers until late Summer.
As the crew dealt with the catch, and the engines subsided, I started to become more aware of another roaring sound that was always there in the background.
The seasonal seabird city of Ailsa Craig was still in full cry, and even at half a miles distance, and over the throbbing of the diesel motors, you were aware of it.
Gannets are noisy birds, their ‘Arrrrrr’ cry carries far, and when you have thousands of adults and juveniles all bickering and jousting for position on the narrow cliff edges, the sound is quite incredible.
It reminded me of being outside a football stadium on the night of an important match.
More to follow soon.
Chir Mor, Casteil Abheil, and the familiar pyramid of Goat Fell had started to assume their daylight guises, and as the light grew stronger, I also discovered the boat was surrounded by a small group of Kittiwakes and Lesser Black backed Gulls.
My Brother and Robbie had retired for a couple of hours rest before the fishing began later in the morning.
The skipper Richard had assumed navigation duties, and after a few interesting moments conversation with him, I decided to check out the growing birdlife outside.
The Kittwakes were incredibly tame, and Richard had assured me that the birds could sometimes be persuaded to take a small piece of fish liver from a gutting knife.
Later I found this (or something very similar) to be true, but for the moment I was content watching them from very close range as they cackled disagreeably with each other, and air danced around the Shangri La’s bow.
Around 7 am the sun finally broached the horizon, and to the south east, Ailsa Craig loomed larger than I had ever seen it.
More and more I was starting to see Gannets. Some purposefully flying west in small arrow straight groups, others drifting by on the glassy water, washing and preening. This, I fancifully imagined, was that most maritime of birds desperate attempts to rid itself of all traces of the unfamiliar rocks on which it had spent the lengthening September night.
Further east we sailed, until finally Ailsa Craig was only half a mile distant - a towering green and white monolith sparkling in the bright morning sunshine. The crew were awoken, breakfast taken, then the nets were shot for the first time that day.
I am an animal lover, all animals, there are no exceptions……well, perhaps midges! But I have to say that watching animals of any sort hunted and killed for food does not sit easy with me.
So, I tried to studiously ignore the huge wriggling pile of Norwegian Lobster and various small fish dumped on board as the skilled crew of the Shangri La brought the nets up for the first time that day.
I concentrated instead on the large amount of Gannets that had started to show interest in the trawler as soon as the nets began to be lifted from the sea bed.
They seemed to know exactly when it was time.
As soon as the boats engine tone signalled that the tow was over, and the catch would be winched on board; they began to fly over towards us, plunging gently into the water alongside.
As the bottom of the net reached the surface, and the catch inside was revealed for the first time, they surprised me by taking to the air, gaining height, and diving straight down into the mesh itself.
Occasionally, I was told, the odd bird would get entangled, and would have to be released by the crew. No big deal really, considering that sometimes it can be a Grey seal which gets itself trapped. A nightmare scenario which requires a lot of brute strength, a great deal of care, and a few rudimentary stairs made from fish-boxes to return Sammy over the side and safely back to the sea.
I tried to get shots of the Gannets as they plunge dived straight into the net.
This was difficult as the birds move at great speed doing this, and the light was still not strong enough to allow me to crank the shutter speed up to sufficient levels.
I was however, able to obtain a few decent images before the catch was finally lifted, and once again the Gannets had become quiet.
Nets on a shellfish boat are designed to catch just that, but the occasional deep water fish comes up with the catch too.
Amongst these I noticed: Flounders and Dabfish, Ribbon fish, and the locally nicknamed ‘Dougie Poll’ This ferocious looking deep sea dweller is better known as the Sculpin, and is covered in slime, and poisonous spines.
But even these were gladly (if cautiously) accepted by the Gannets and Gulls as the catch was sorted.
It was strange to watch this huge and majestic seabird begging for handouts from the crew, somewhat like a duck at the local pond.
By this time the sun had risen fairly high in a flawless blue sky, and my spirits soared as I realised the weather would almost certainly stay like this for the rest of the day.
The temperature also began to rise, and I gladly stripped off my fleece and jacket to better soak in the welcome warmth.
Even though it was early September, the vast majority of Gannets at sea were adult.
Only the very occasional brown speckled Juvenile, or ‘Guga’ was seen.
It takes these big birds a very long time to fledge, and eggs laid in March or April don’t leave the cliffs as juveniles in any great numbers until late Summer.
As the crew dealt with the catch, and the engines subsided, I started to become more aware of another roaring sound that was always there in the background.
The seasonal seabird city of Ailsa Craig was still in full cry, and even at half a miles distance, and over the throbbing of the diesel motors, you were aware of it.
Gannets are noisy birds, their ‘Arrrrrr’ cry carries far, and when you have thousands of adults and juveniles all bickering and jousting for position on the narrow cliff edges, the sound is quite incredible.
It reminded me of being outside a football stadium on the night of an important match.
More to follow soon.
