Fingal's Cave
Inspiration for Mendelssohn's Hebrides Overture
Although the opportunity to see and photograph a nesting colony of Atlantic puffins was the primary reason for a day-long expedition to the Isle of Staffa, it wasn’t the only one. As part of a chain of Scottish islands known as the Inner Hebrides, this small uninhabited oasis of unique geology and biology has a rich history of exploration and artistic inspiration, and although the experience of observing the comical antics of puffins from the edge of a cliff was magical, it was far too brief since I was also determined to reach legendary Fingal's Cave before returning to the mainland.
The origin of the name Fingal’s Cave is wrapped in mythology partly derived from an epic poem written in 1762 about a Celtic hunter-warrior who fought a supernatural being or giant there. Among many other stories, the name is also attributed to a man named Fingal who led a band of men defending the Hebrides from Viking raids during the 3rd century.
Fingal's Cave was not well known until 1772 when botanist Joseph Banks discovered it and later wrote: “Compared to this, what are the cathedrals and palaces built by men! Mere models or playthings, imitations as His works will always be when compared to those of nature.”
After his visit to the cave in 1810, the famous poet Lord Byron wrote a poem titled "Fingal," praising its natural beauty.
Sir Walter Scott, a prominent Scottish writer and poet, wrote about Fingal's Cave in his poem "The Lord of the Isles” which tells the story of the adventures of the Scottish hero, Robert the Bruce. After entering the cave in 1814, Scott later described it as “one of the most extraordinary places I ever beheld. It exceeded, in my mind, every description I had heard of it …composed entirely of basaltic pillars as high as the roof of a cathedral, and running deep into the rock, eternally swept by a deep and swelling sea, and paved, as it were, with ruddy marble, baffles all description.”
Fingal’s Cave was also immortalized by 19th century composer Felix Mendelssohn who visited the island in 1829. After hearing how the water and air reacted with the unique structure of the cave, Mendelssohn was inspired to compose a masterful work of music for which Johannes Brahms once said; "I would gladly give all I have written, to have composed something like the Hebrides Overture."
My first glimpse of Staffa revealed massive six-sided basalt columns that loomed 140 feet over the ocean. As waves crashed along rocky shores, our vessel docked at the bottom of steep metal stairs which climbed to a spongy plateau and a path leading to cliffs where over 600 puffin burrows produce one chick each nesting season. Although the puffin colony was my first priority, that experience ended after 30 minutes with a sprint to reach Fingal's Cave before my boat left the island. Scrambling back down the stairs, I found the path leading to the cave lined with people unaccustomed to traversing rocky slabs at the bottom of cliffs on one side and swelling ocean waves on the other. Rather than join this queue of tourists inching along with the help of a steel cable, I chose to bypass the group on the left, gaining at least ten minutes of extra time in a sea cathedral approximately 230 feet long and 66 feet high - large enough to fit the body of a Boeing 747. Shaped through a process of volcanic activity and erosion, the cave’s structure consists of hexagonally jointed and perfectly geometric columns of basalt that lined the cave walls, jutted from the ceiling, and formed a crude “walkway” on one side that incredibly allowed visitors to explore the interior of cave if they were so inclined.
Upon entering this impressive rock sanctuary, I was surprised by the small collection of humans who had ventured into the cave along a narrow rock wall. This included senior citizens (unlike me of course) who seemed awestruck by the visual and audible experience as well as discombobulated by the enormity of it all. Cave visitors also included small children who hopped about – apparently bereft of parental supervision as the waves crashed below. Because there were no safety barriers, with people tussling to get a better view, I later searched Google for “Fingal’s Cave deaths” which produced only the following: “There is no recorded data or historical evidence to suggest that a significant number of people have died specifically while visiting Fingal's Cave.” Unlikely I thought, largely due to concerns about tourism.
Because of limited time, and the enormity of the cave, it was difficult to capture the essence of the place with photographs, and although the attached video will give you some idea of its grandeur, it doesn’t do justice to what I saw and heard (especially given the quality limitations of videos uploaded to Facebook).
After a painfully brief visit, I found myself scurrying around the next group of cable-grasping tourists in the direction of the boat. In the panic of leaving this magical place so quickly, I briefly entertained the idea of being “accidentally” left behind on the island with the hope of finding some type of passage the next day, but this fanciful notion quickly vanished as I considered the dire consequences of hiding out on the island without cell service and realizing that Sandi and the rest of the family were expecting me to return for a late seafood dinner in Oban harbor.
Although this abbreviated visit to Staffa left me physically drained, the sheer wonder of the experience was the real reason I felt breathless. Like all similar adventures, gratitude for the Creator and His creations was the end result, and hopefully the same for those who read to the end and watch the video through eyes of wonder.
A longer version of the video, which includes Fingal's Cave and the puffin colony, is on my website at the end of a gallery called Life on Earth.