Sea Dreams

Robert, 70, west coast of Scotland. Retired polar mariner posting randomly about anything that occupies my mind. "The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears or the sea." Isak Dinesen

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The five D-Day beaches and the approximate numbers of fatalities on the beaches alone - before the troops even managed to gain a foothold inland.

Utah - 200 Omaha - 770 Gold - 350 Juno - 370 Sword - 680

By the end of the day, over 4400 Allied troops were mortally wounded. At the close of August, the conclusion of the brutal Battle of Normandy, roughly 87,200 people had lost their lives (combatants on both sides plus French civilians) with many more wounded or missing. Add to that roughly 100,000 cattle and 8000 horses.

"...and as they were running across the beach they couldn't have avoided stepping on dead soldiers." Wehrmacht defender, Omaha beach.

"It was one fucking mess." American soldier, Omaha beach.

"They're murdering us here. Let's move inland and get murdered." Colonel Charles Canham, 116th Infantry Regiment, Omaha beach.

"A fearful leap of faith."

Their stories have moved me to tears this week.

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A swimmer’s eye view of Arran

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The native bluebell. In April and May, blue carpets of these flowers line the floors of our old woodlands before the light is shaded out by bigger plants and the leaf canopy. 

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The hospital ship Uganda, reaching the end of her service in the Falklands conflict, 1982, taking fresh water from Canadian Pacific’s Fort Toronto.

The islands, in the background, are covered with snow.

The Uganda had an interesting history if you like that sort of thing. In 1952 she was built in Glasgow as a passenger liner for the British-India Steam Navigation Company (in the days when people travelled in a civilised manner instead of being crammed into a tube with wings and not enough room to swing a cat). By 1967 competition from the dreadful airlines made her unviable and she was converted into an educational cruise ship. From 300 passengers her capacity was increased to 1226, 920 of whom lived in dormitories. You can imagine what fun that was for the school kids. I bet they drove their teachers nuts :-)

(My own brother went right round the Baltic Sea on her, visiting Leningrad amongst other places. Now, that’s how to learn geography and history. Why don’t we, as a country, do that sort of thing anymore?) 

On the 10th of April 1982 she was requisitioned by our government and disgorged all her children at Naples (free pizza!) then sailed for Gibraltar where she was converted for hospital service and refuelling at sea. This took only 3 days.

She carried 136 medical staff and a vast quantity of medical supplies south with her. Three small Royal Navy survey ships worked with her as ‘ambulances’.

Her first casualties were received on the 12th of May, after the Exocet missile attack on HMS Sheffield, and by the end of the land battles 730 casualties had been treated, including 150 Argentinians. Over 500 surgical operations were performed. Once well enough to travel, patients were transported to Montevideo in Uruguay for repatriation or transferred to Argentinian hospital ships.

It’s said some of her windows never did close properly again after all those Sea King helicopters landed on her deck quoits court.

Like most old ships she had a sad end. At the age of 34, awaiting break up in Taiwan, she was driven ashore by Typhoon Wayne and capsized. 

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Lady’s Smock

A favourite. Quite common, but pretty and delicate. You’ll find it in spring on damp ground, often along the roadside and in ditches.

It has several names, one of which is cuckoo flower because it coincides remarkably well with the (increasingly rare) arrival of the birds from Africa every year.

The young leaves, I’m told, have a peppery taste similar to cress but I’ve yet to try them. It’s a food flower for the orange-tip butterfly. 

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In the evening’s fading light with dark winter’s grip slowly, reluctantly loosening its hold on our land and with the tang of salt on the crisp, spring air, the birds come in to reclaim the low tide strand.

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On the moor a few days ago

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Reothairt  -  Spring Tide

Uair is uair agus mi briste thig mo smuain ort is tu òg, is lìonaidh an cuan do-thuigsinn le làn-mara 's mìle seòl.

Again and again when I am broken my thought comes on you when you were young, and the incomprehensible ocean fills with floodtide and a thousand sails.

Falaichear cladach na trioblaid le bhodhannan is tiùrr a'bhròin is buailidh an tonn gun bhristeadh mu m' chasan le suathadh sròil.

The shore of trouble is hidden with its reefs and the wrack of grief, and the unbreaking wave strikes about my feet with a silken rubbing.

Ciamar nach do mhair an reothairt bu bhuidhe dhomh na do na h-eòin, agus a chaill mi a cobhair 's i tràghadh boinn' air bhoinne bròin?

How did the springtide not last, the springtide more golden to me than to the birds, and how did I lose its succour ebbing drop by drop of grief?

Somhairle MacGill-Eain, Sorley MacLean

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Light-mantled sooty albatross and chick

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Light-mantled sooty albatross - an absolute favourite of mine. Now classed as Near Threatened, I count myself very fortunate to have seen them in flight and on the nest.

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"Why, Sir, you find no man, at all intellectual, who is willing to leave London. No, Sir, when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford." - Samuel Johnson, 1777

"When a man is tired of polar bears he is tired of life." - me, 2021 :-)

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Somewhere near Bird Island, South Georgia, November 2009

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St. Blane’s

The hogback stone in the foreground marks the grave of a Norse settler.

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In the 6th century a monastery was established here by St. Cathan although it is now named after his more famous nephew, Blane, who is said to have died in the year 590. 

The monastery was sacked by the Vikings in the 8th century, who could be rather impatient and grumpy with Christians at the time, to put it mildly. At any rate it wasn’t until the 12th century a church stood on this site again, and it is still here today.

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One of the occasional privileges of a life at sea - ocean birds in flight. 

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Svalbard, June 2012