Splendid isolation: Paul Murton arrives in remote Rona in this excerpt from his island anthology The Hebrides
A MERE speck in the enormity of the surging North Atlantic, North Rona is a truly remote island, lying some 72 kilometres north-east of the Butt of Lewis. It was an island destination that had eluded me for several years. Poor weather, even in summer, had prevented me from making the long sea journey to the cliff-girt island where there is no landing stage or safe anchorage. Eventually however, my chance came. In early dawn light on a morning of breathless calm, I climbed aboard the 440-horsepower boat Lochlann at Miavaig harbour, on Lewis. Neil the skipper was hopeful that the journey shouldn’t take much more than five hours. Roddy the mate grinned. “If the wind picks up, it could take a wee bit more.”
