Friday, September 18, 2020
At Scourie, the inner gate of the beach road was closed, and one sign forbade camping on the cliffs while a second notice pointed out that the public toilet was at the northern end of the village. Fair enough. At least we could still walk over the cliffs, even if we had to start walking from the bird hide instead of up by the cemetery.
But there was nothing much to be seen in the way of birds. Scanning the sea far out, I spotted dolphins near the sea stack known as the Old Man of Stoer (although Greger was initially mystified as he thought I'd said "Goldfinch near the Old Man of Stoer"). Then we both said "What's that?" as something dark and finned and slightly closer to us broke the surface in a long, slow roll forward that seemed too long and slow for a dolphin.
Can't be sure, but it might have been a minke whale.
