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A Scilly Diary. (1 Viewer)
- Thread starter chowchilla
- Start date
Mike Crawley
Emeritus President at Burnage Rugby Club
according to the "scuttle butt" on Bryher it was 10 years almost to the day (my underlining)
Another great write up
sicklebill
well-known Cretaceous relic
Sunstroke on Scilly but not in Cairns, amazing! Very enjoyable write ups, I knew Scilly well from my UK birding days, look forward to hearing about your autumn there.
chowchilla
Well-known member
Thank you!
Yeah, I was astonished. The air is so clear here and devoid of particulates that you really feel it.
chowchilla
Well-known member
Thank you. I was so annoyed at not seeing one in Montenegro - pretty much hit all of my other targets except this supposedly common bird.
chowchilla
Well-known member
"Everything goes quiet in June."
Famous last words, Will Wagstaff.
OK, I may not be quoting him exactly, but that is the gist of it, anyways.
Now, Scilly regulars know who Will is, and that he is a gentleman as well as a fantastic birder; so you'd think this statement that he put my way the other day would be true. Curiously, he said it as we sat waiting for a bird that had turned up at Porth Hellick, which indicated that our June was anything but quiet. A Little Bittern had made itself known. It had first been spotted from the Seaward Hide flying along and landing on the far side of the lake, from where it was promptly chased off by the local gulls. The bird headed off into the south east corner of the lake into deep cover and remained there for hours. This corner of the lake, as anyone familiar with Porth Hellick will know, is difficult to observe from the Sussex Hide, and impossible to observe from the Seaward Hide, where we sat now. The Seaward Hide is closer, but is at the wrong angle, so to speak.
Needless to say, several birders waited, as I did, before gradually giving up. I gave up too and took off. The bird promptly reappeared, and just to rub salt into my wounds, flew towards the Seaward Hide where it gave crippling views to a lucky few observers as it fished for the abundant mullet in the lake. Check out the Rare Birds section right here for Scott's pictures; and he wasn't the only birder to get such good pics.
I raced back to Porth Hellick. I had been told that it had flown 'less than a minute before' into the reeds to our left. I waited for it to pop out. Of course, it did nothing of the sort and remained stubbornly hidden; but I had a hunch... If the bird made its way along the lake edge, it would emerge near the Sussex Hide. And so it was about an hour later that I found myself alone in the Sussex Hide as the waning light of evening illuminated the mayflies and somehow seemed to enhance the evening chorus of a Reed Warbler that chuntered merrily off to my right, before inching up the reeds and showing off its sombre finery on what was a beautiful Spring evening. As I lowered my binoculars and contemplated calling it a day, I began to look away. No sooner did I do so, then a movement caught my eye beyond where the Reed Warbler had been moments earlier. My eyes snapped back just in time to see a large dark bird with great blobs of buff on its wings bomb out of the reeds away from me and towards the Seaward Hide. Little Bittern! I barely had time to register this fact before it dropped down out of sight, clearly very close to the other hide.
Well, I've never exited a hide so fast in my life. I sprinted to the other hide, and skidded to a halt just outside the Seaward Hide barely a minute later. I crept in and swept my gaze across the mud. No sign of it. This was distinctly odd, but did suggest that the bird must have kept on going, further than had initially appeared. I sat once more where Will and I had had our conversation, having the hide all to myself once more. My phone pinged. I looked down to see what the message was just as a quick movement passed my field of view. The Little Bittern bombed back past me in flight towards the hide I'd just left! I nearly missed it by looking down at the crucial moment.
I'd seen it twice, but neither view was particularly satisfying. I put it out on Whatsapp, nonetheless because it was becoming apparent that the general pattern of this bird's behaviour was that you could wait for hours and not see it, and then have it suddenly appear in front of you, often showing really well. Timing was crucial: those that saw it well often just timed their visits well, because over the next week or so, the bird keep appearing, more or less at random moments, for different people. Most people saw it at least once, and as I mentioned earlier, some had fantastic views. I had seen it, but never again after this first day of encounters, despite coming back to Porth Hellick at least three more times (maybe more, I've lost count...). To this end, I completely failed to record the bird in a photograph, much to my annoyance; but I can tell you now, I'd be a whole lot more annoyed if I had missed it entirely, as a few local, and several visiting, birders did.
FTR, after I put out the reappearance of the bird, Spider, AKA Kris Webb, appeared as I began to head back. He disappeared into the Sussex Hide as the light began to fade. As I headed home, he reported that the Little Bittern had flown across his field of view and disappeared into cover at the Northern end of the lake. But further, he also put out that a Night Heron had flown over the reeds, just as dusk crept in. This bird was not seen again by anyone.
So, here's a picture of two Shelduck instead - taken whilst waiting at what is at least a very scenic spot. Not a rare bird, and not a great photo, but photogenic birds, nonetheless. Oh, and June had more to give as it turned out, as I will detail soon...
Famous last words, Will Wagstaff.
OK, I may not be quoting him exactly, but that is the gist of it, anyways.Now, Scilly regulars know who Will is, and that he is a gentleman as well as a fantastic birder; so you'd think this statement that he put my way the other day would be true. Curiously, he said it as we sat waiting for a bird that had turned up at Porth Hellick, which indicated that our June was anything but quiet. A Little Bittern had made itself known. It had first been spotted from the Seaward Hide flying along and landing on the far side of the lake, from where it was promptly chased off by the local gulls. The bird headed off into the south east corner of the lake into deep cover and remained there for hours. This corner of the lake, as anyone familiar with Porth Hellick will know, is difficult to observe from the Sussex Hide, and impossible to observe from the Seaward Hide, where we sat now. The Seaward Hide is closer, but is at the wrong angle, so to speak.
Needless to say, several birders waited, as I did, before gradually giving up. I gave up too and took off. The bird promptly reappeared, and just to rub salt into my wounds, flew towards the Seaward Hide where it gave crippling views to a lucky few observers as it fished for the abundant mullet in the lake. Check out the Rare Birds section right here for Scott's pictures; and he wasn't the only birder to get such good pics.
I raced back to Porth Hellick. I had been told that it had flown 'less than a minute before' into the reeds to our left. I waited for it to pop out. Of course, it did nothing of the sort and remained stubbornly hidden; but I had a hunch... If the bird made its way along the lake edge, it would emerge near the Sussex Hide. And so it was about an hour later that I found myself alone in the Sussex Hide as the waning light of evening illuminated the mayflies and somehow seemed to enhance the evening chorus of a Reed Warbler that chuntered merrily off to my right, before inching up the reeds and showing off its sombre finery on what was a beautiful Spring evening. As I lowered my binoculars and contemplated calling it a day, I began to look away. No sooner did I do so, then a movement caught my eye beyond where the Reed Warbler had been moments earlier. My eyes snapped back just in time to see a large dark bird with great blobs of buff on its wings bomb out of the reeds away from me and towards the Seaward Hide. Little Bittern! I barely had time to register this fact before it dropped down out of sight, clearly very close to the other hide.
Well, I've never exited a hide so fast in my life. I sprinted to the other hide, and skidded to a halt just outside the Seaward Hide barely a minute later. I crept in and swept my gaze across the mud. No sign of it. This was distinctly odd, but did suggest that the bird must have kept on going, further than had initially appeared. I sat once more where Will and I had had our conversation, having the hide all to myself once more. My phone pinged. I looked down to see what the message was just as a quick movement passed my field of view. The Little Bittern bombed back past me in flight towards the hide I'd just left! I nearly missed it by looking down at the crucial moment.
I'd seen it twice, but neither view was particularly satisfying. I put it out on Whatsapp, nonetheless because it was becoming apparent that the general pattern of this bird's behaviour was that you could wait for hours and not see it, and then have it suddenly appear in front of you, often showing really well. Timing was crucial: those that saw it well often just timed their visits well, because over the next week or so, the bird keep appearing, more or less at random moments, for different people. Most people saw it at least once, and as I mentioned earlier, some had fantastic views. I had seen it, but never again after this first day of encounters, despite coming back to Porth Hellick at least three more times (maybe more, I've lost count...). To this end, I completely failed to record the bird in a photograph, much to my annoyance; but I can tell you now, I'd be a whole lot more annoyed if I had missed it entirely, as a few local, and several visiting, birders did.
FTR, after I put out the reappearance of the bird, Spider, AKA Kris Webb, appeared as I began to head back. He disappeared into the Sussex Hide as the light began to fade. As I headed home, he reported that the Little Bittern had flown across his field of view and disappeared into cover at the Northern end of the lake. But further, he also put out that a Night Heron had flown over the reeds, just as dusk crept in. This bird was not seen again by anyone.
So, here's a picture of two Shelduck instead - taken whilst waiting at what is at least a very scenic spot. Not a rare bird, and not a great photo, but photogenic birds, nonetheless. Oh, and June had more to give as it turned out, as I will detail soon...
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Jon Turner
Well-known member
Back in the early 70's while working in a small bulb field on St Agnes I got the worst sunburn ever - blistered the top of my back. I've always been careful over there ever since.
chowchilla
Well-known member
I think it's fair to say that I've missed a lot of birds this Spring. Other than those I've mentioned already, I have also missed four European Bee-Eaters that hung around briefly, but easily observable, near Porthloo. I was working and simply couldn't get away. I also missed a Red Kite after the observer reporting it failed to give proper directions as to which way it was moving until it was over Tresco. A few lucky observers just happened to be over there that day and lucked upon a Red-rumped Swallow into the bargain.
Surprisingly, Red Kite is incredibly rare here. The birds so often seen in West Cornwall almost never make their way over here. There was even a suspected second bird. Red-rumped Swallow is commoner, such is the topsy-turvy frequency rates of so many birds for Scilly. Both those birds remain off my Scilly list as a result, along with Whitethroat, Garden Warbler and Swift amongst others.
It is in this vein that a bird that can only be described as a scarce migrant on Scilly comes in the form of Rosy Starling. I'd missed a few of these this Spring as well. Then one turned up in someone's garden on the Garrison on a day I wasn't working. I hesitated briefly, the fatalistic side of me unconvinced that my luck was about to change. This was silly, because I wasn't doing anything important at the time. And so off I went.
I headed off through a short-cut alley I knew, peering up at the Garrison as I went. In my haste, I failed to see the edge of the kerb, and I went over on my ankle. As I pitched forward, I twisted my body around in an effort to avoid slamming my binoculars into the road. I succeeded, and slammed my elbow and knee into it instead. I took a load of skin off both and liberal amounts of blood were to be seen as a result. Phew. I was more relieved to have narrowly avoided a very expensive accident. Adrenalin got me to my feet, and I'll admit I felt exceedingly foolish. I couldn't feel much immediate pain, and I didn't realise how bad my knee was until the next day - I still have difficulty going upstairs. As is so often the case with rare (or scarce?) birds, I kept going, ignoring my discomfort.
I knew precisely where the bird had been seen and had an idea of how to check the immediate area. Just before the Star Castle Hotel, I took a left across a tiny field and saw a group of starlings feeding ahead of me and resting in the surrounding trees. All very normal looking starlings. I continued past the little flock and into a much larger field that contains a horse stable, but no horses. I discovered the access to this field when unsuccessfully chasing a Golden Oriole about a month earlier and have been reliably informed that it is OK to enter it. The vegetation in the field had really grown up since the last time I had been here. There were clearly birds feeding in it as I could discern movement here and there. An entire flock of hundreds of starlings could be concealed in here. Bordering the left of the field is a belt of pines that separates it from the uppermost gardens of Sallyport -basically the bit of Hugh Town that sits on the edge of the Garrison. Ahead, is another similarly overgrown field. To the right is a small field that has been ploughed by a pair of free-range hairy pigs, alongside the Star Castle; also my friend's tiny garden where I had unsuccessfully tried for a Hawfinch some time before. If the Rosy Starling was hanging around the area, all I needed to do was scan the surrounding trees and hedges and keep an eye on any birds that flew out of the field itself. I peered into the trees around the garden itself, the trees to the immediate left above the pigs and the pine belt. There were starlings everywhere. None of them were pink. After several minutes of walking slowly around the field checking everything that moved, I heard someone yelling in the distance.
"Over there!" said the voice. I looked around and lifted my bins to spot a distant birder looking at me from the direction of the playing field beyond and pointing vigorously at the pine belt. He gave further instructions as I hurried over and I vaulted a low wall to hear him better. I then turned through 180 degrees to look where he meant. I was now actually further away from the pine belt than I had been in the first field, but I figured it was the only way I'd find it quickly because I simply couldn't see it in the large area he was referring to. I eventually looked at the very area he was patiently directing me to and thought at this distance I could see it. Was I looking at a bird, or a patch of light in the vegetation? It really was that distant. The patch of light moved its head. It was a Rosy Starling! We both hurried over into the original field, vaulting the low walls between us and it. The bird was relocated, much closer this time, but still a good hundred metres off. I reeled off a few quick record shots. We crept closer to try and get a few pictures and for a more decent view, but the bird had other ideas. It took off North and disappeared over the nearest hedge not to be seen again by either of us. It was eventually relocated later in the day in that same garden with a second one!
The birder whom I had lucked into and got me onto a bird that I could so easily have missed, turned out to be from Kent and was on holiday here. Amazingly, he was from the same village I lived in there for 18 years. Small world...
And so finally, Rosy Starling was in the bag. The vast majority of records of this species, both in Scilly and in the UK as a whole, are of brown immatures in the Autumn. This was an adult, and what's more it was my fourth lifer. Here is a bad picture, for the record:
Surprisingly, Red Kite is incredibly rare here. The birds so often seen in West Cornwall almost never make their way over here. There was even a suspected second bird. Red-rumped Swallow is commoner, such is the topsy-turvy frequency rates of so many birds for Scilly. Both those birds remain off my Scilly list as a result, along with Whitethroat, Garden Warbler and Swift amongst others.
It is in this vein that a bird that can only be described as a scarce migrant on Scilly comes in the form of Rosy Starling. I'd missed a few of these this Spring as well. Then one turned up in someone's garden on the Garrison on a day I wasn't working. I hesitated briefly, the fatalistic side of me unconvinced that my luck was about to change. This was silly, because I wasn't doing anything important at the time. And so off I went.
I headed off through a short-cut alley I knew, peering up at the Garrison as I went. In my haste, I failed to see the edge of the kerb, and I went over on my ankle. As I pitched forward, I twisted my body around in an effort to avoid slamming my binoculars into the road. I succeeded, and slammed my elbow and knee into it instead. I took a load of skin off both and liberal amounts of blood were to be seen as a result. Phew. I was more relieved to have narrowly avoided a very expensive accident. Adrenalin got me to my feet, and I'll admit I felt exceedingly foolish. I couldn't feel much immediate pain, and I didn't realise how bad my knee was until the next day - I still have difficulty going upstairs. As is so often the case with rare (or scarce?) birds, I kept going, ignoring my discomfort.
I knew precisely where the bird had been seen and had an idea of how to check the immediate area. Just before the Star Castle Hotel, I took a left across a tiny field and saw a group of starlings feeding ahead of me and resting in the surrounding trees. All very normal looking starlings. I continued past the little flock and into a much larger field that contains a horse stable, but no horses. I discovered the access to this field when unsuccessfully chasing a Golden Oriole about a month earlier and have been reliably informed that it is OK to enter it. The vegetation in the field had really grown up since the last time I had been here. There were clearly birds feeding in it as I could discern movement here and there. An entire flock of hundreds of starlings could be concealed in here. Bordering the left of the field is a belt of pines that separates it from the uppermost gardens of Sallyport -basically the bit of Hugh Town that sits on the edge of the Garrison. Ahead, is another similarly overgrown field. To the right is a small field that has been ploughed by a pair of free-range hairy pigs, alongside the Star Castle; also my friend's tiny garden where I had unsuccessfully tried for a Hawfinch some time before. If the Rosy Starling was hanging around the area, all I needed to do was scan the surrounding trees and hedges and keep an eye on any birds that flew out of the field itself. I peered into the trees around the garden itself, the trees to the immediate left above the pigs and the pine belt. There were starlings everywhere. None of them were pink. After several minutes of walking slowly around the field checking everything that moved, I heard someone yelling in the distance.
"Over there!" said the voice. I looked around and lifted my bins to spot a distant birder looking at me from the direction of the playing field beyond and pointing vigorously at the pine belt. He gave further instructions as I hurried over and I vaulted a low wall to hear him better. I then turned through 180 degrees to look where he meant. I was now actually further away from the pine belt than I had been in the first field, but I figured it was the only way I'd find it quickly because I simply couldn't see it in the large area he was referring to. I eventually looked at the very area he was patiently directing me to and thought at this distance I could see it. Was I looking at a bird, or a patch of light in the vegetation? It really was that distant. The patch of light moved its head. It was a Rosy Starling! We both hurried over into the original field, vaulting the low walls between us and it. The bird was relocated, much closer this time, but still a good hundred metres off. I reeled off a few quick record shots. We crept closer to try and get a few pictures and for a more decent view, but the bird had other ideas. It took off North and disappeared over the nearest hedge not to be seen again by either of us. It was eventually relocated later in the day in that same garden with a second one!
The birder whom I had lucked into and got me onto a bird that I could so easily have missed, turned out to be from Kent and was on holiday here. Amazingly, he was from the same village I lived in there for 18 years. Small world...
And so finally, Rosy Starling was in the bag. The vast majority of records of this species, both in Scilly and in the UK as a whole, are of brown immatures in the Autumn. This was an adult, and what's more it was my fourth lifer. Here is a bad picture, for the record:
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sicklebill
well-known Cretaceous relic
Good vicarious fun as we sit in the persistent clouds, fog and rain on the Atherton Tablelands, glad you saw the starling and hope the knee mends quickly.
kennethwfd
Well-known member
I love Scilly, and would gladly move there if I could. UV light is much stronger, and regularly catches people out who think "Well, it's just another part of England"
chowchilla
Well-known member
Precisely. I've birded in the tropics in many places and been all over Australia - often in temperatures well into the 40s, and never had sunstroke before, ever. I normally wear a hat when birding, but my Aussie bush-hat tore shortly after I arrived back in the UK. Being late winter, I didn't bother getting another until I paid the price for not wearing one in bright sunshine.
I should take it as a salutary lesson; not just to wear a hat next time, but as a reminder of another good reason for living on Scilly: the incredibly clean air.
chowchilla
Well-known member
So maybe Will Wagstaff was right after all...
Birding does get quieter here on Scilly through June and into July. This is to be expected of course; it's that time of year. This coupled with the seemingly endless heatwave we've had for about two months now, means that the islands are smothered in a blanket of heat, only tempered by the sea breezes. It was with this in mind that I ventured out with a hat and suncream - only to avoid the absolute health disaster of my last visit to Bryher.
Everywhere is quiet. On one particular hot, still day, I ventured down a track running from Telegraph to the back of the golf course, and literally the only birds I saw, and more often heard, were the peeps and cheeps and flecked browns of fledglings. The odd adult blackbird and robin did put in an appearance, but really this is a day for not doing much, and so I just enjoyed the weather and the walk.
Even the flowers have, for the most part, gone over. The fields are faded and monotonous under the sun, but the sea twinkles. Rather like the Mediterranean, this is where the real summer beauty of Scilly comes to the fore. Standing pretty-much anywhere coastal, one can see yachts, dinghies, rowboats and ferries plying the water. Most of the time there is an eery calm to the sea; it is almost like glass at times. The sunsets, which can be readily observed a minute from home, descend over the harbour from Town Beach, or indeed from any number of vantage points on the islands; and they are frequently spectacular; I mean, like nothing I've seen before. And so it was I turned my attention to going off island once more; that sea was simply too tempting.
The destination of our little boat was Bishop Rock - the most South-Westerly bit of land, not only of Scilly, but of the whole of the UK. or rather, that's where we will turn around. En route, we were going to see all manner of treats.
First up were Puffins which breed on the grassy hillocks of Annet. These were quickly followed by several Northern Fulmar on the sea and overhead. Amazingly, both species are new for my Scilly list. The Puffins are due to leave soon and are unlikely to be readily seen again until next year, unless I'm lucky enough to spot some distant ones on a seawatch, and so I knew I didn't want to miss this opportunity.
Thence to the Rags and other rocky outcrops where we saw a number of Grey Seals basking on the rocks and popping their heads up in the water to watch our progress. There may well be Common Seals in the pics below, but I'm no expert. Shags were probably the commonest bird seen on the trip, and often there were large rafts of them on the sea. They were joined by a few Cormorant. A few Manx Shearwaters gave us brief views of their rapid progress.
The Bishop Rock lighthouse is just what it says on the tin: a lighthouse on a rock. The stonework is pretty exquisite I suppose and Shags like to sit on it, it would seem. Regular Gannet entertained us with flybys, including a number of young birds.
And then, the main entertainment arrived in the form of a large pod of Common Dolphins. These animals proceeded to come in close to the boat and ride along in its bow wave. They would often come alongside and swim under the boat, and even jump out of the water for us a few times. The oohs and aahs of some on the boat, shows they were seriously impressed with what they saw. A short while after that, the top fin of a Sunfish approached the boat. The Sunfish is basically a bizarre 'swimming head' with a long fin on the top and one on the bottom. They grow to an impressive size, but the one we saw was only a tiddler, at maybe half a metre in height. Yes height.
There was also a Yellow-legged Gull out on one of the rocky islets. Gullemots and Razorbills were to be seen gathered on the islets here and there, or as flyovers. Auks fair whizz along in flight, so the fact I captured a Guillemot in flight is nothing short of miraculous, given my photography skills, or rather lack thereof.
A stopoff on the way back at St Agnes, saw the overwhelming majority of the boatload of people exit for dry land, and presumably an ice cream; seeing as the island makes the stuff. I however, was more than sated on birds, dolphins, seals, sunfish, beautiful scenery, blue sky, and that wonderful twinkling sea that occurs in such abundance around Scilly. Summer is well and truly here.
Birding does get quieter here on Scilly through June and into July. This is to be expected of course; it's that time of year. This coupled with the seemingly endless heatwave we've had for about two months now, means that the islands are smothered in a blanket of heat, only tempered by the sea breezes. It was with this in mind that I ventured out with a hat and suncream - only to avoid the absolute health disaster of my last visit to Bryher.
Everywhere is quiet. On one particular hot, still day, I ventured down a track running from Telegraph to the back of the golf course, and literally the only birds I saw, and more often heard, were the peeps and cheeps and flecked browns of fledglings. The odd adult blackbird and robin did put in an appearance, but really this is a day for not doing much, and so I just enjoyed the weather and the walk.
Even the flowers have, for the most part, gone over. The fields are faded and monotonous under the sun, but the sea twinkles. Rather like the Mediterranean, this is where the real summer beauty of Scilly comes to the fore. Standing pretty-much anywhere coastal, one can see yachts, dinghies, rowboats and ferries plying the water. Most of the time there is an eery calm to the sea; it is almost like glass at times. The sunsets, which can be readily observed a minute from home, descend over the harbour from Town Beach, or indeed from any number of vantage points on the islands; and they are frequently spectacular; I mean, like nothing I've seen before. And so it was I turned my attention to going off island once more; that sea was simply too tempting.
The destination of our little boat was Bishop Rock - the most South-Westerly bit of land, not only of Scilly, but of the whole of the UK. or rather, that's where we will turn around. En route, we were going to see all manner of treats.
First up were Puffins which breed on the grassy hillocks of Annet. These were quickly followed by several Northern Fulmar on the sea and overhead. Amazingly, both species are new for my Scilly list. The Puffins are due to leave soon and are unlikely to be readily seen again until next year, unless I'm lucky enough to spot some distant ones on a seawatch, and so I knew I didn't want to miss this opportunity.
Thence to the Rags and other rocky outcrops where we saw a number of Grey Seals basking on the rocks and popping their heads up in the water to watch our progress. There may well be Common Seals in the pics below, but I'm no expert. Shags were probably the commonest bird seen on the trip, and often there were large rafts of them on the sea. They were joined by a few Cormorant. A few Manx Shearwaters gave us brief views of their rapid progress.
The Bishop Rock lighthouse is just what it says on the tin: a lighthouse on a rock. The stonework is pretty exquisite I suppose and Shags like to sit on it, it would seem. Regular Gannet entertained us with flybys, including a number of young birds.
And then, the main entertainment arrived in the form of a large pod of Common Dolphins. These animals proceeded to come in close to the boat and ride along in its bow wave. They would often come alongside and swim under the boat, and even jump out of the water for us a few times. The oohs and aahs of some on the boat, shows they were seriously impressed with what they saw. A short while after that, the top fin of a Sunfish approached the boat. The Sunfish is basically a bizarre 'swimming head' with a long fin on the top and one on the bottom. They grow to an impressive size, but the one we saw was only a tiddler, at maybe half a metre in height. Yes height.
There was also a Yellow-legged Gull out on one of the rocky islets. Gullemots and Razorbills were to be seen gathered on the islets here and there, or as flyovers. Auks fair whizz along in flight, so the fact I captured a Guillemot in flight is nothing short of miraculous, given my photography skills, or rather lack thereof.
A stopoff on the way back at St Agnes, saw the overwhelming majority of the boatload of people exit for dry land, and presumably an ice cream; seeing as the island makes the stuff. I however, was more than sated on birds, dolphins, seals, sunfish, beautiful scenery, blue sky, and that wonderful twinkling sea that occurs in such abundance around Scilly. Summer is well and truly here.
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chowchilla
Well-known member
Some pics:
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chowchilla
Well-known member
More:
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chowchilla
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