Scottish Mountaineering Club Journal Volume 4 Number 6

Excursions

The Bass Rock

On 26th June Mr Douglas and I visited this interesting island, partly for ornithological purposes, and partly lured by reports relating to desperate climbing to be obtained in the great cave that passes through the rock. We were fortunate in obtaining an exquisite day, a slight breeze from the east tempering the heat of the sun, and not raising a sea too heavy to allow of our landing on the rocks at the eastern entrance of the cavern. This is just below the great overhanging eastern cliff of the Bass, nearly 300 feet high, around which circled swarms of snowy gannets and graceful kittiwakes. According to tradition the cave is only accessible "at dead ebb of spring tide," so we timed our visit for low water, and despite the croakings of our aged skipper, who had once, he said, "put a man through" - i.e., landed him at one side and taken him off at the other - "thirty years ago, but never since," we jumped on to the rocks at the entrance of the cave, and sending the boat off to meet us on the west, started on our passage through the Bass. At this entrance the opening is wide and lofty, and two or three pairs of shags have their nests on overhanging shelves near the roof, and these looked upon our intrusion with considerable disfavour. Disregarding their hostile remarks, we advanced into the deepening gloom. The floor of the cave is here paved with cobblestones, weighing about 20 to 50 tons apiece, particularly smooth and slippery, and so hard that they afforded a very insecure footing to hobnails. The jointing between these titanic cobbles is rather open, spaces 2 or 3 feet wide being frequently left. Rising somewhat, the cave rapidly narrows, still, however, maintaining a height of over 20 feet with a width of about 10. At length we reached the great block of rock, and saw the welcome slanting gleam of light that told of the nearness of the exit. Below the rock, however, lay solid night, and at first the writer, who lowered himself over its edge by the hands, failed to find foot-hold. A kick, however, resulted in a splash, and we knew we had come to the pool in whose awful depths-reported as 3 or 4 feet - might lurk slimy monsters of the briny seas.

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What should we now do? Retreat and justify the forebodings of our ancient mariner, or boldly press forwards and wade, or if necessary swim, the Stygian pool. Our trusty (?) lamp was relighted - it had been blown out by the strong draught that swept through the rocky corridors - and by its friendly gleam the pool suddenly shrunk from the awe-inspiring to the insignificant, its maximum depth nowhere exceeding 18 inches, and no monsters, and nary a lurk - to use an Americanism - save a monstrous log, whether washed in by the waves or used as a bridge by other explorers we could not tell. The pool can nohow be avoided, but by each removing one shoe and stocking we got through without wetting the other, and walking over the fine beach of pebbles that floors the western entrance, returned to our boat, our waiting friends, and to sunlight once more. The cave was formerly a haunt of seals and sea otters, and report has it that a number of years ago a visitor was upset by the rush of one of these latter animals as it escaped to the sea. We were a little disappointed, perhaps, at not obtaining the desperate climbing, but our passage of the cave was certainly not the least interesting incident in a very pleasant day's outing.

H. Raeburn