Our eight survey of the season started with challenging conditions straight out of Loch Broom and ended with a Fin Whale sighting! Read on to hear about all that happened in between…

DAY 1

We met on a cold and windy evening - July 1st in Ullapool harbour. Fishing boats and the Stornoway ferry docked around us as we settled in on the sailboat, Silurian. Meeting and greeting and boat talk and science chat. Our crew consists of an acoustics physicist, an Arctic explorer, a marine biologist, and of course Captain Cool (Emma) – expert of the Hebridean seas. Our volunteers have travelled from as far as Berlin and San Francisco, but the north-west coast of Scotland seems just as far away for the rest of us hailing from Leicestershire, Edinburgh, Glasgow, and Elgin. Chopped up spaghetti for dinner, lots of tea and biscuits and then an early bed as we have a big day ahead with – according to our Captain – a 'fresh' forecast, 'ideal for getting your sealegs'...

DAY 2

I woke up to sunrise streaming through the hatches - at 3am - but managed to get back to sleep until 730, ready for coffee and porridge.

We did a bit more training on survey protocol and how to not fall out the boat (key to a successful expedition). Then we were moving; Ullapool's whitewashed cottages looking cosy and cute against the dark green rollers of glacier-sculpted Loch Broom.

I personally had never properly sailed before, though I knew the others were more experienced, so I was pretending to be intrepid by adopting the 'heroic explorer' stance on the bow as we bounced over the westerly swell. My teeth were clenched, half in the elation of adventure, half in the fear of the unknown. Here we go, a dream of a lifetime. Ecstatic on sea air, I laughed out loud, but quickly hid my giddy grin with my 'serious scientist' frown in case the others thought I was as mad as Ahab.

When we reached the fabled Summer Isles opposite Achiltibue, the seas calmed and we lunched on deck while still watching every wavelet for signs of life. Guillemots gathered in wee groups and an Arctic Skua sent them scattering.

First sighting of the day was a curious grey seal as we headed out of Coigach bay and into The Minch.

We were now truly at sea. Grey horizons to the west - Lewis and Assynt hidden in clouds, bright gannets gliding through the glaucous, fulmars casually carving through the cold front, and auks auking about.

A fin! Sighting! 90 degrees, about 60 meters. There it is again, did you see it? What way is it heading? O that way, 200, no 300, no... em... there it is, that way! Porpoise!

Not quite got the hang of the degrees yet but we saw a cetacean and I'm laughing again.

Not soon after, a dolphin is beneath our bow. It's checking us out. And it's gone. And it's back, and it's out the water and it's gone.

My madman's grinning has turned to whooping.

We see three more leaping out to starboard. Common dolphins. They're fast and fun. Need to get the data logged.

We round the Old Man of Stoer and the swell is coming in from the Arctic via Iceland. We're getting tired but time for tea and sweets and our Captain is keeping us on course.

Around 6pm, we enter the sheltered bay of Loch Nedd below invisible Quinag - tranquil and ottery and rather civil compared to the salty winds of the open Minch. Day one is almost done - time for duties and dinner and writing this log.

DAY 3

A soft and soothing patter of rain on the hatches in the early morning gave no hint of the heavy seas we would encounter when we left our overnight mooring in Loch Nedd. The anchor was raised and the team took up their positions feeling giddy with enthusiasm and confident from our training and experience on Day 2.

We emerged from the loch; the sea began to churn, the winds pick up and the ... well, let us just say the rain was less than soothing. The churning sea turned a bit more hostile and regrettably we went "off survey" after only half an hour. Not all was lost as a grey seal poked its head out to save the day and give us a solitary last-minute sighting!

Silurian ploughed through the big swells with assurance as we passed the bird sanctuary on Handa Island and were treated to a smorgasbord of sea birds hunting for a meal.

We found refuge in Loch Inchard and nestled into our mooring for the night. Several of us wanted to test our land legs and we took a run ashore in the tender returning just in time to enjoy a delicious meal.

DAY 4

With the winds set to howl for the day, we motored up the Loch to spend the day in Kinlochbervie. We regained our land-legs, had luxurious shore-showers and sampled the bakes of the local cafe.

DAY 5

After the storm died down (a little bit) we set sail to cross the Minch - finally! The conditions were still challenging with wind and waves, but we were rewarded with a long day of sailing. The start was very foggy with visibility of less than one mile. It felt like we were out on the great ocean without seeing any land. After we had some amazing French toast (prepared by Sam in the kitchen, with 2 meter swell) we finally left the fog.

After crossing the Minch and close to the Isle of Lewis we saw a couple of Minke Whales feeding in the deep. They surfaced several times near the boat and gave us some spectacular sightings. But not only minkes were around. We had several common dolphin sightings, with them hopping playfully out of the water, shy harbour porpoises crossing our way and even one lonely white beaked dolphin.

Having seen so many majestic animals in one day and sailing for 9 hours straight we arrived in Loch Liurboist and saw our last porpoises for the day, before having home-made burritos.

DAY 6

We left Loch Liurboist with overcast conditions but expectations high for better weather to come; sea state and visibility were promising for sightings too. Heading out into The Minch again in a south-easterly direction, changing course to the East Shiants Bank with its shallower water and upwelling. Birds were around sitting quietly and flying past. A few harbour porpoise were easily seen. There were other sightings of dorsal fins but the animals were reluctant to give more clues for identity. A small minke whale allowed us to go 'with whale' for a while but again this whale was elusive. Another sighting for Dougie! (He's our lucky mascot). The hydrophone was picking up whistles and clicks so there were dolphins around. Heading on the final transect into the Shiant Isles the bird numbers really picked up. The natural arch and the cliffs are impressive; basalt columns, sheep meandered on the grassy area and on the rocky areas; WOW there was hardly any space...white everywhere - feathers and guano! Rafts of auks on the water and a cacophony of noise. Time will tell who sleeps well tonight.

DAY 7

We were greeted by sunshine this morning made even more glorious by its absence since the beginning of our survey. If the sunshine was glorious, our setting was something more. The dramatic cliffs towering above us emitted a cacophony of bird calls and the sky above and around us filled with soaring and skimming birds by the hundreds ... no thousands! We absorbed this spectacle quietly on deck lost in our thoughts of what this grandeur meant in the larger scheme of our existence.

After a Sunday breakfast of Tristan's delicious banana pancakes, we set off for a full day of survey under sunny skies. Our approach today was to zig-zag across The Great Minch off the northeast coast of Skye. The sea mirrored the sky in its fairness treating us to sea state 0 at times. The good survey conditions led to a few sightings that kept us attentive before we arrived off the mainland. A buzz of excitement infused our ranks as we approached Shieldaig and the famed naturalist Steve Truluck came alongside with a compliment of whale watchers. Hearty greetings were exchanged.

Silurian glided into Loch Gairloch for our overnight anchorage and a welcome pint of Ewebrew at a local hotel.

DAY 8

Today we started very early to go back to the northern part of the mainland where we started our journey. We lifted the anchor at 7am while most of us were still at the breakfast table. Shortly after leaving our sheltered anchorage, and only a couple of minutes after we got ‘on effort’, we saw the first group of common dolphins that stuck with us for half an hour - what a great start!

The conditions were ideal for spotting whales – most likely not a normal Scottish summer day. The sea was flat and we had fair weather with a mix of clouds and sun. We saw a few harbour porpoises and even more dolphins (plus the occasional seal floating by).

Heading north, we finally saw the ferry from Stornoway to Ullapool from which humpback whales have been sighted in the last couple of days - and we were extremely lucky. We not only saw two very close but also the blow of a third one further away and one breaching at the horizon where sky meets sea, sending a huge splash of water into the air.

We spotted them just before we wanted to have lunch, but that needed to wait. After seeing a couple of huge blows it was clear to everyone that we were getting nearer to one of those great animals. The first one we saw up close was probably a younger whale sticking around to feed. After spending some time with it we got back to our original transect and not so long after that we caught up with another one – and this one was a poser! The whale was sometimes closer than 100 metres from the boat and showed us its fluke more than once.

After a long but successful day, Silurian finally brought us safely into the wonderful "Badcall bay" in Loch Duart – a marvelous place with a lot of small islands, a common seals with her pup, and an amazing surrounding.

DAY 9

Turns out Badcall Bay was a good call. Calm, seal-filled, and bordered by strange mountains of the Moine thrust.

Today was sunny and breezy. Easterlies pushed clouds up over Assynt, but these clouds broke upon reaching the coast, meaning that we had a west of Scotland coastal sky in reverse - the coastal mountains were clear and cloudless, and the inner lands were cumulus covered.

The Minch was shining green in sunshine. Phytoplankton bloomed galore in these cold, nutrient rich waters. It was a day of Kittiwakes, but not cetaceans. The odd dolphin was spotted but hundreds of charming Kittiwakes fluttered the whitecaps like oceanic butterflies.

We headed towards Harris, which grew bigger throughout the day, until we about-turned and headed back towards Suilven, whose sister hills of Assynt had backdropped our yachting romantically throughout the morning's transects.

And now for the true drama of the day - the pies.

Skipper Emma had secretly been timing our scientific research such that our academic surveying would achieve its apogee of daily data collection at a mathematically precise moment in time - before the fabled pie shop of Lochinver was shut (around 4pm...).

We arrived in the harbour at 3:45pm... pontoon full.

And now for First Mate Sam's finest hour. His fifteen minutes of fame, if you will.

He leapt into the rib like a pirate and sped off to the jetty. On arrival, he disembarked like a soldier in the Special Boat Service, commandeered the rental car of some hapless American tourists, and sped off around the promenade towards pies and glory.

He got there at 4:01pm.

The proprietors were swapping the sign from 'opened' to 'closed' when this crazy-eyed, sweaty sailor, still in oilies and life jacket, came banging at the window looking desperate for help. Thinking someone had been lost at sea, the piemongers swung the door open and cried: "Holy saviour, what is it man? Shall we call the coastal guards?"

"Skipper needs pies!" Sam screamed, before passing out in a sweaty heap.

Happily, he was resuscitated by the combined scent of baked crust and summer berries, and a platter of pleasantly pastried pies was provided for the personnel of his vessel.

And he still found time to make us all haggis, neeps, and tatties for dinner, with pies for dessert of course.

The James Bond of Pies.

DAY 10

Flurries of sweet berry pies wisped through the dreams of the volunteers and crew the night before our 10th day, which would be our last full day of surveying our blubbery friends below the waves. We woke early to Bob Marleys Three Little Birds, started our survey meeting Two Big Humpbacks out in the Minch (the same ones as the other day?), and ended our efforts in the afternoon with Four Little Porpoises further south in Little Loch Broom.

We anchored near to the famously self-sufficient community of Scoraig at the neck of the loch and it wasn't long before the citizen scientists and crew had landed ashore to explore the lands. There we ambled, sauntered, and mosied around to find a peculiar wee lighthouse, pretty views, and an intriguing situation of green beetles... Suddenly a brisk wind set upon the peninsula, separating us visitors from one another and the faintest whisper could be heard by some, telling of a disconcerting rumour about the peculiar green beetles - a rumour that they were former human visitors – some of which Silurian volunteersm – that had been turned to beetles by a sinister, self-sufficient magic that stirred on these hills. A single shiver ran down Henri's dorsal and he and the rest made haste back to Silurian... Back in the safety of the good company and good food, we watched a nice sunset and prepared for the next day, which would sadly be our last surveying day :(

DAY 11

It was supposed to just be the last day - a half day and then mooring at Ullapool to scrub the ship and go out for dinner in the evening.

I joked with Tristan, the Fourth Crew come bioacoustics science officer, that - it’s the last day, guaranteed to see something special.

The seas suggested otherwise with a northerly swell and a big chop. Poor sighting conditions.

Out of little loch broom we saw nothing. A few terns. Into the Minch and I was at the mast and holding on tight in the swell. My only hope was that a large baleen whale’s spout might just be visible above the sea spray.

And yes, you guessed it, we saw it in the far distance. It was a tall spout, not as bushy as previous humpbacks. But in the same area of sea off the Coigach peninsula where humpies had been seen previously. My instinct told me something was different this time.

We saw the tail of the humpback! Brilliant stuff - exhilarating and a fine send off.

But then, a big fin with a long back sailed past us to starboard.

A fin whale!

It swum right under the front of the boat. You could see its body under the water. You could smell its breath.

I don’t know what else to say so I’ll just say we saw a fin whale!

Everyone was buzzing. We sailed into loch broom, mission accomplished. But then one final slinky minke appeared as if to send us off. And almost comically, a single common dolphin leapt full out of the water at port side with a tremendous splash as if to say goodbye.

We were all laughing.