On the train home after a week on the Eda Frandsen, the Scottish Highlands are draped with thick clouds and we rock by heather patches and lakes where you really could imagine a Lady of the Lake lifting her marbled arm and brandishing a sword. The pure, stark beauty of this landscape leaves me breathless, even though I have been surrounded by seascape beauty all week. How many sparkling vistas can one being inhale? I feel absolutely satiated from our days cruising along the North-western coast of the Inner Hebrides.
“Anything down there about your souls?”
It is a lot to ask, a group of eight people who have never met in person gather together around one big book to spend a week in close — very close — quarters on a venerable wooden gaff cutter, cleaving the waves and surviving the mad weather. Luckily, it was a very game group. Over the month of August we had met on Zoom five times in advance of our adventure but, of course, Zoom is not the heaving, lively space of a pitching boat saloon. Some of us had a bonding experience before we even left home when our Caledonian Sleeper was abruptly cancelled the day we were meant to travel north . . . there was a bit of a scramble, but this perhaps tenderised us for the coming adventure and showed us that we were able to pull together as a group and support each other.
We all managed to get to Mallaig on time to board the Eda after gathering for a final lunch at The Tea Garden. The first afternoon, after our safety orientation and assignment of oilskins and boots, we motored (the winds being unfavourable) to our first night’s anchorage, tucked in Loch Nevis (translated from Gaelic as ‘Lake of Heaven’) and already, we were amongst sheer granite cliffs and shadowed coves. As we dropped anchor our captain, Mungo, pointed out a white-tailed eagle lifting off the waves of the loch with a fish in its claws, circling on the air gusts up the cliff to its nest.
After our first morning of shrieking dips into the chill waters and hot coffee and porridge, we were in. There is always a moment – that may be hard to pin – when you slip from your home-based self into the self who is adapting and rooting into the foreign rhythms of a new place-new people-new bed-unknown schedule. That shift involves a letting-go of the safety and security of habit (or, as my friend Marcel might say, Habit) and with the letting-go, one gains the ability to manage discomforts and vulnerabilities that might not have been imaginable in our curated, daytime lives. There is a release.
Each day was shaped by that most elemental aspect, the weather. Where we were to go, how we were to go became a function of winds, weather, tides and sunlight. Our needs were minimal: eating, swimming, two hours of book discussion and moving from anchorage to anchorage as Mungo and Stella determined each day. We shuffled around each other as we tumbled out of our cavern-like bunks, moved up on deck and gathered in the views and fresh sea air. When it was time to put up the mainsail, the jib and the topsail, we all joined in, becoming part of the mechanism of boat. Most days, we landed on one of the magical islands of the Inner Hebrides and had a few hours hiking, exploring and swimming to stretch our legs and be reminded of how land felt. I am tempted to describe the incredible meals that Sylvie conjured out of the tiniest of galleys, but it would sound to much like hyperbole. Suffice to say we applauded her fish pies, banana bread, butternut squash soup and homemade bread with enormous appetite and gratitude.
Our discussion of Moby Dick grew in energy and excitement – in keeping with the rhythm of the narrative – as each of us moved more and more deeply into the incredibly rich text, together discovering layers of meaning and structure that are not as easily available to the solo reader. Melville’s great work is propelled by a hunger to know – to know the mysteries of the world, to probe the depths of the natural world – and so the magnificent whale becomes the focus of study. The book raises questions that resonate across time: must we destroy to understand the wild creatures of the land and seas, can we live in harmony with those from other cultures, can we manage the depths of woe and savagery within ourselves? Melville – through Ishmael – digs deep and considers the vast realm of the sea and her inhabitants, as well as the driven men aboard the whaling ship.
It is not possible simply to summarise either the book or our work within it. Even with the vast luxury of a week of time and a sea of imaginative space to hold and play together with the ideas and language, there is always more to explore. Our final day – after a lovely hike to Loch Morar with an informal swim, we were preparing for the final discussion, the last frantic chapters of whale chase – Mungo called us all on deck to witness a most spectacular exhibition of dolphins. It was a pod of about thirty including a few babies, all leaping and playing alongside the boat. Mungo turned off the engine to welcome them and the watery gambol continued, I even glimpsed dolphins en amour.
Each of the participants brought their own energy and curiosity, and the crew of the Eda Frandsen supported us with grace and care. We sang together, shared stories and histories, indulged in libations and limericks. I felt the peeling off of layers of stress and to-do lists and return re-energised, my thoughts expanded by the wide open horizon.
Thank you Rosie, Katriona, Mark, Simon, Lucinda, Emily and Lorraine for our joy-filled adventure. I love my Eda Sweatshirt!
We are now inviting applications for the seven places on our next adventure on the Eda Frandsen (13-19 September 2027, £2,180.00) to read Moby Dick, please email litsalon@gmail.com if you are interested in joining. You can read full details here.
The voyage will involve sharing confined living and sleeping space while onboard. We do not require you to have nautical skills, but some time spent on sailing boats or camping would be useful so you know what to expect. We ask you to let us know in your email whether you have such experience and to confirm that you are in good physical health. Even in late summer it is possible that there may be rough seas and weather, so please consider carefully whether you are likely to be adversely affected by these conditions.
