The day we crossed into the Atlantic from the Hebridean Sea we could see it, a tall stick in a distance. It was the Monach Isles, we were debating for a bit whether to go there or follow the coast further, in the end we left it to the morning to decide.
We came closer and it was time to decide on our landing spot. However rather than long sandy stretches, all we could see were boulders lining the beach. We started to look for a gap in the rocks, and then heard it. The sound, oh no, they weren’t rocks. Of course we have read that the Monach Isles have one of the biggest seal colony in North Atlantic but who thought it would be lying on the beach. We made a retreat and went to look for a landing place without the danger of disturbing them all. Found it just round the corner and named it Dead Seal Beach. No wonder his former friends no longer wanted to share this space.
We walked all the way to where the village used to be. People lived here until 1942, and then one more family moved in for few years at the end of the 40’s. People lived mainly on two islands, this one and the one with lighthouse. Interestingly this lighthouse was manned still in the 1937. So many people lived here, that a school was built here. It looked very idyllic in the warm sun, that it was hard to believe that these isles have about 160 days of gales per year.