Close encounter

High tide, I read, is the worst time to see one as they go back to their holt for a snooze. Yet 29 minutes from docking on Mull, at almost exactly high tide, a huge V was swimming towards me on a mill pond loch. 

OTTER! 

With an acceptable place to pull over, it was one of those special coming together moments. Not only had I been in time to catch the earlier ferry but it was also quite bright, dry, still, with parking and camera was to hand.

Otter WITH FISH!

I also read not to stop the car straight away, as they often dive, but failed on that one. Although he wasn't seeming to mind. Perhaps with a mouthful, it's harder. Perhaps he was later home than he'd said. Perhaps he'd been hunting all morning and this was his first catch. 

Famished otter!

So he swam maybe 30m or so parallel to the seaweed shore and got out. He actually did what I was supposed to do! More reading up had said walk back to the otter slowly and he might just stay there. So, I crept out of the van, hiding behind a stripy pull-in post and kept on creeping. 

He looked up, straight at me, a few times but was basically enjoying his lunch too much to care. I watched and inched forwards as he gnawed his catch until it was gone and then nonchalantly sauntered back in.

This is totally what I came for. And couldn't have dreamed of being so close.  Shall I come home now?! 

Moments later, the ripples were back on the water, the breeze had picked up and a shower passed through with the brightest of stubby rainbows on the shoreline trees. 

Not an otter in sight!

We continued on our way towards this evening's stopover at Fidden which is the most picturesque campsite you could ever ask for. Turquoise water, white sands, scattered rocky outcrops and dry, flat grass to stop on.

The wind has picked up, we've had a few walks on the beach and been clambering over the rocky peninsulas. 

Time to stretch my over-driven body and chill.