Bookshelf rows of grey granite topple into the ocean, where a sea eagle perches atop, scanning the seas horizon. It stretches its wings as wide as the bay, lifting with it the sky, dragging it behind as it sets course northward.
Most of the literature surrounding the most westerly point on British mainland has it at Ardnamurchan lighthouse. However it actually resides at Corrachadh Mor, a kilometre south over bog and rock. An unremarkable projection of quartz dolerite tumbling into the sea below. Unremarkable, little known and poignant.
Giant cushions of grey granite rise and fall to the sea. Their soft curves ran out of steam long ago. What was once in is out, there’s no turning back. And everything must be weathered come storms and flood and drought. But the whale rock is going nowhere fast. Peculiar how the surface feels warm to the touch on this cool October morning. I leave my palm on the the raspy skin expectant of an exhalation.