A day trip to Skokholm

Today I had the chance to go over to Skokholm (the island to the south of Skomer) a place I last visited as a volunteer several years ago.  Chris was attending a meeting marking the handover of the lighthouse to the Wildlife Trust, and there was a spare space on the boat.  It was my first trip on the fast rib that carries sightseers around the islands; skimming the grey waves we sped through the swirling waters of Little Sound and away from the cliffs of Skomer.  To the north a yacht navigated her way between Skomer and the Mew Stone, and further out the Irish ferry made its stately progress towards Pembroke.   Quickly we drew close to Skokholm.  The rocks of the island are a mixture of warm pink sandstone and black basalt, and rounding its eastern tip the cliffs angle down into the sea in jagged shards, spectacular to see.

Skokholm is smaller than Skomer, similar to its larger neighbour to the extent that the centre is a plateau dominated by swathes of bracken and rocky outcrops, but very different in geology and vegetation.  Here Golden Rod is thick along the track from the landing point, close to flowering, and along the cliff tops swathes of Wild Pansy, in some places yellow, in others predominately blue, mix with scarlet pimpernel and sea campion.

I left the main group at the lighthouse discussing the finer points of the electrical circuitry, and headed out around the coast.  It was hot and sunny, and I was glad of a cool sea breeze as I skirted vertiginous cliffs of purple that dipped their feet in a turquoise sea.  I ate my lunch at a place where fulmars swept along the coast on their stiff grey wings, changing direction and pace with the slightest movement of their tail or wings.  Having plenty of time I drifted to sleep, listening to the calls of choughs that chased acrobatically overhead. 

Back at the farm at the centre of the island, where the warden, two volunteers and any overnight guests stay, I had a look around.  Compared to Skomer, Skokholm feels much more isolated, the facilities much more basic and traditional.  In the communal dining room (called ‘The Wheel House’) there are many prizes stripped from a grounded schooner many years ago (the crew having been safely evacuated); the whole place has a tranquil, homely feel.  In the sheltered garden willow warblers flitted around the walls and hid amongst the Fuschia bushes, and there was real heat from the sun.  All too soon it was time to return to the boat, setting off from South Haven, where huge seals basked, gleaming in the sun by the light-flecked water.