The waves crashed against the starboard side of the boat as we pulled closer to the sheer cliffs that were nesting 10’s of thousands of puffins as they gather for the natural phenomena of the mating season.

The sky was thick with thousands of amazingly couloured beaks as they flashed in and out of the water expertly targeting the unlucky fish as they desperately try to provide for their starving young. However so many birds come with a price even with the strong winds the inhumane smell coming from the cliffs was unbearable. 

The shaggy cliffs towered over us reminding us just how small we all are in the scheme of things, the pillars just kept going up and up and up blocking out the sun and casting a shadow over the boat and bring silence to the boat as the darkness seeped its way into the back of my mind reminding me of the cold and that it wasn’t paradise, but in the middle of the ocean on and old and disheveled boat.

You usually hear in descriptive stories about the engine drowning out the noise of any thing else but here it was quite the opposite, the cries of the birds ranged all the way from the king of the island the sea eagle, all the way to the tiny puffin. The noise of the seal was surprisingly high but seemed fitting with the seals inquisitive nature as they kept coming closer and closer to the boat almost daring each other to keep going as their heads bobbed up never in the same place. The pupps were sprawled out on the rough rocks almost making you wince as you imagine how much it would hurt to be lying on sharp rocks naked but the layer of immense blubber shielded them from any pain as they lay patiently for their mother to return with the food they so desperately needed. 

The sudden cry of “sea eagle” brought everyone’s gazes upwards as we shielded our eyes from the relentless sun as it beat down on us. The majestic bird was soaring through the sky cutting through the air like a knife through butter as it caught the thermals and climbed higher and higher, showing us all the definition of no limits. The motor stopped and for a minute making the loud noise of the birds even louder.  Harris had been magnificent bursting in colour and life, I had never seen so much happiness crammed into such a small place. And you would hardly expect it to be on a small remote island of scotland, you would expect it to be in the shinning sun somewhere in the Carribean and that was the beauty of Harris.

  • William Chapman
  • : don't really have one
  • : youth_(12_–_18_as_of_31st_december_2019)
  • : This is the first time this story has been published.