Solway Firth to Skye Coast

We've crossed the Irish Sea to begin the Scottish leg of our epic journey

around the entire coast of the UK.

So far we've travelled along the southern edge of England, round Wales,

north from Liverpool and around the coast of Northern Ireland,

uncovering the stories that have shaped us as an island nation.

This part of our grand tour takes us around the jagged west coast of Scotland.

Nowhere else in the UK is there such an intricate tangle

of islands, lochs and sounds.

And it's this chaos of islands and inlets that has shaped life here on the rocky west.

Donning their sou'westers and hopping around with me is our usual team of experts.

Historian Neil Oliver joins the Royal Navy to find out

why this stretch of coast is home to the UK's entire nuclear arsenal.

Zoologist Miranda Krestovnikoff goes on the hunt for minke whales off the island of Rhum.

Anthropologist Alice Roberts witnesses the re-birth of Glasgow shipbuilding,

as 11,000 tonnes of steel is cheered down the slipway.

And while I discover how the Scottish King James V crushed the mighty clans of the Western Isles...

-Launch!

-..Mark Horton gets a crash course in German rocket science on the Island of Scarp.

Welcome to the west coast of Scotland.

This next leg of our journey takes us from the Firth of Clyde to the Outer Hebrides.

As the seagull flies, it's only 300 miles, but add in the dozens

of islands anchored off this rugged coastline and we are talking thousands of miles.

Life on the west coast is governed as much by the sea as by the land.

So what better way of getting to know its geography than on this classic Scottish sailing ketch.

Skipper Andrew Ritchie has had a lifelong love affair with this stretch of coast.

What makes this such a great place to sail, Andrew?

I've sailed in many parts of the world and I still think

the west coast of Scotland is the finest sailing area in the world.

There's nothing like the west coast, the freshness of the air.

You've got sandy shores and rocky sea cliffs that come down.

You've got the mountains of Skye that come up to the sea.

The variety of sailing is better than anywhere else in the world.

It's also one of the most hazardous, isn't it?

It has its places, and it has its moments.

The Atlantic shore, wind can get up in no time and you can find yourself

in a lot heavier weather than you originally expected.

One of one of the great advantages of sailing on the west coast

is that the coast is so jagged there's always some place you can get safe anchorage,

and you can get under cover within a short sailing time.

So far my experience of Scotland's west coast has been windswept and carefree.

But nowhere in the British Isles has so much heavy metal been put to sea than here on the River Clyde.

For 200 years, if it was ploughing of the world's great sea-lanes, chances are it was built here.

Sailing and boat-building has been part of the culture around here for centuries.

And nowhere is that legacy more evident than on the River Clyde.

For generations, the River Clyde lay at the heart of Glasgow's prospering economy,

with a massive shipbuilding heritage that saw huge iron-clad vessels

sail to the four corners of the world.

To be Clyde-built was seen as a mark of quality, craftsmanship and reliability.

But decades of fierce foreign competition spelt the end of Glasgow's golden age of shipping.

The dockyards slid into decline, disuse and neglect.

But some refuse to die.

Today, it's no wonder that any new ship is met with jubilant celebration.

Alice Roberts is quayside as Glasgow's most famous industry trumpets its latest creation.

At this dock in Govan, amidst a wave of pomp and ceremony,

they're about to name and launch the Royal Fleet Auxiliary's Navy support ship Cardigan Bay.

11,000 tonnes must slip majestically onto the River Clyde.

The Cardigan Bay is the 751st vessel to be launched from this dock in 150 years.

For the workers who have spent the last 18 months building her, launch day is a momentous occasion.

It is also a nerve-jangling one.

Only last year the Cardigan's sister ship hit trouble, literally,

when she slid down the slipway straight into a concrete wall.

It was an embarrassing dent to their pride, and one that is not going to happen again!

Co-ordinating this launch is Scott Jamieson.

Now on the launch of the sister ship there was a little bit of a problem.

When you launch a ship this size,

there are a lot of variables and it is a very complex process.

The direction wasn't quite right and she travelled further than we wanted her to.

How much further?

She made slight contact with the opposite end of the river.

But it wasn't that big a deal. Very minor damage.

-And it's not going to happen?

-It won't happen this year.

-We've done everything to make sure everything goes smoothly.

-Yeah.

Scott, I have to say I am ever so slightly nervous being underneath thousands of tons of ship.

So what's stopping her sliding down?

We have four hydraulic rams, which push against the weight of the ship and hold her in position.

Half an hour before we launch the ship, we start to take these away.

-We'll press the button that releases the triggers and she'll start to slide into the Clyde.

-Right.

I think I need to get out of here.

Last year, one of the four drag chains that slow the ship down snapped free.

It was enough to spell disaster.

This year, the launch team are taking no chances and are attaching two extra 60-tonne drag chains,

so there'll be three on either side of the ship.

BAND STRIKES UP

With only a few hours to go, the final preparations are carried out.

Glasgow's passion for big ships still burns bright, and launch day is always a carnival.

Can I ask you, have you any family connections with the ship?

My cousin John worked on it.

-Oh, really? Is he up there on deck?

-He's on there now.

-Have you seen a ship launched?

-No, this is my first time.

Is it a big day for Glasgow?

-Yes, very big.

-Why is it so big?

Well, tradition.

A Glasgow tradition.

Shipbuilding on the Clyde, second to none in the world.

-We used to do this twice a month.

-Really? Ships this size?

-That's a small one, by the way.

-Right.

-But it's good to know they still build them here.

As the crowds line up and the VIPs arrive, it all looks perfect.

Lady Stanhope is getting ready to name the ship and launch her, and underneath the ship

the last-minute checks are being held to make sure that everything goes smoothly.

But below the ship, it's a different story. The launch was scheduled for high tide,

which should have guaranteed a healthy three metres of water to carry her massive bulk.

But strong northerly winds have blown the tide back out to sea.

The result - the Clyde is now too shallow to launch the ship safely.

The ship is named, but the actual launch is postponed till tomorrow.

I name this ship Cardigan Bay.

May God bless her and all who sail in her.

CHEERING

It's the morning after the naming ceremony and the launch is back on track.

With only half an hour to go, the burner is called in to remove the four supporting spurs.

For 18 months, the weight of ship has been held back by the steel girders.

Once gone, there'll be no stopping her sliding inexorably into the water. There'll be no turning back.

She's moving. Come on, get her moving.

The ship is ready to launch.

MUSIC: "Also Sprach Zarathustra" by Richard Strauss

-Three cheers for the Cardigan Bay. Hip, hip...

-CROWD: ..Hooray!

-Hip, hip...

-CROWD: ..hooray!

-Hip, hip...

-CROWD: ..hooray!

It's a success that has given the Clyde its first real taste of optimism in decades.

Though nobody expects shipbuilding to regain its pre-war levels, the order books are now bulging

and this bit of Scottish coast looks like its going to be busy for a while yet.

Despite the decline in shipbuilding, the connection with the sea remains strong.

The biggest employer along the west coast is the Royal Navy.

Her Majesty's naval base here at Faslane is the largest military establishment in Scotland.

It employs a workforce of more than 6,000.

The Navy's presence here dates back to the First World War.

The depth of the lochs and their ready access to the Atlantic Ocean

make this an obvious choice for our most important submarine base.

And since the '60s, that no longer means just torpedoes, but intercontinental ballistic missiles.

Each of these boats is capable of delivering more destructive power

than was unleashed in the whole of the Second World War.

Faslane stands guard over Britain's entire nuclear arsenal,

a force that comprises four Trident submarines.

Our historian, Neil Oliver, has been given privileged access

to join the crew of Trident submarine HMS Vanguard.

As we're escorted out, the submarine has to negotiate the shallow waters of Loch Gareloch.

Navigating a 150-metre-long 16,000-tonne nuclear submarine is no easy feat.

Overseeing this tricky manoeuvre is Captain Jake Moores.

We've just left the Gareloch and coming down

the Rhu Narrows where we have 40 yards of clear water either side

and 3.5 metres of clear water underneath the submarine.

As the submarine is over 100 yards long,

there isn't a lot of space to turn her as we come through the Narrows and out here into the Clyde.

What is it about Faslane that makes it so special?

Faslane's in a unique position within the UK.

It's a deep-water harbour that's well protected, with a difficult navigational entrance and exit.

And also, it provides easy access to the North Atlantic and quick access to get out to deep water.

In addition, the lochs in the area provide us with deep water

where we can conduct trials and training without having to go too far.

It's been over three years since HMS Vanguard was last on patrol.

As the oldest of the UK's four Trident submarines,

she was taken out of service in 2001 for a complete overhaul.

But before she can resume patrol duty, both the crew and the submarine must survive a series of drills.

I've joined the crew at the start of a gruelling set of sea trials

that will test the ship and, more importantly, her men to the limits.

For the past two weeks Captain Moores has been preparing his crew for the first of those tests.

Ready to dive. Diving now.

Their underwater patrols last three months, during which time

no-one sees anything of the outside world, not even daylight.

With such a vast array of complex equipment, a lot can go wrong

and the crew must sort out any emergency themselves. But the fear that haunts every submariner is fire

which, hundreds of feet below the surface, can quickly turn lethal.

Three men have been airlifted from a Canadian submarine stranded...

Last year, a crewman died and eight others were injured on board the Canadian submarine

the Chicoutimi, when a fire crippled her and left her adrift in open seas.

No wonder they take these drills in such deadly earnest.

To make sure the crew are up to scratch,

the Navy's own team of inspectors plant a series of simulated fires throughout the submarine.

Assessment day! There's a real sense of tension running right through the ship. It's very exciting.

ON RADIO: 'Shut bulkhead doors!

'Emergency stations! Shut bulkhead doors!'

Go! Go!

As soon as any emergency occurs, the officers' mess rapidly transforms into Damage Control.

The heads of every department are here, from the chief weapons engineer to the chief medic.

Doc, any information on casualties?

This is the nerve centre during any crisis.

Meanwhile, it's the crew's job to tackle the fire.

ON RADIO: 'Electrical failure!'

The pace of the day is relentless.

With one fire under control, the test team set off others.

In such confined spaces, speed and teamwork are essential.

The fire is out! The fire is out!

ON RADIO: 'The submarine was struck by a submerged container.

'Various incidents have occurred throughout the submarine, including two fires which are out. That's all.'

Although the drills and tests are now over, the crew can never relax.

Is it possible at all to get away from the day job

while you're on active service? I mean, can you switch off at all?

No, while we're at sea, you can't switch off.

If something goes wrong, you're in an enclosed environment underwater

and you've got to deal with it very quickly, otherwise there could be problems.

That's why we train so carefully for it.

Well, they've passed the first big milestone

but for the crew this is just the start of a long process.

For them, it's more practice, more assessment, more practice, more assessments

for the next 12 months, until this ship is finally declared fully operational.

The lochs, so perfect for submarine training, and the tangle of islands and inlets on the west coast,

have been 3,000 million years in the making.

Everything around here has been shaped by heat and by ice.

These ancient volcanic rocks have been scoured into deep troughs and mountains

by the glaciers of the last ice age. It's a landscape that's changing all the time.

When the ice melted, the water flooded in,

so those aren't islands but the tops of submerged mountains.

It's impossible not to be moved by the sheer scale of this place

and the unbelievable forces that formed it -

the rivers of molten rock, the cataracts of ice, the torrents of water.

They've all created a natural spectacle that just cannot fail to unleash the human imagination.

The island of Staffa, thrown up by the same volcanic activity that created the Giant's Causeway

in Northern Ireland, has lured travellers from all over the world.

German composer Felix Mendelssohn visited Staffa in 1829.

The experience inspired his Hebridean overture.

MUSIC: "Fingal's Cave Overture" by Felix Mendelssohn

Other artists came here simply to get away from it all.

60 years ago, George Orwell went out to the remote island of Jura to write his caustic satire, 1984.

Secluded Jura may be, but tranquil it is not.

Orwell's own experiences of Jura included a close call

with one of the coast's most ferocious black spots - the gulf of Corryvreckan.

The stretch of water between the islands of Jura and Scarba

is one of the most dangerous in the British Isles.

With currents reaching speeds of up to 16 knots, it was once classed as un-navigable by the Royal Navy.

On a quiet day it can be deceptively calm, but when tides and winds conspire,

this water transforms into one of Britain's most fearsome sights -

the Corryvreckan whirlpool.

The whirlpool's awesome power has become a daily draw for thrill-seekers.

Archaeologist Mark Horton discovers what lies beneath.

-So where are we?

-We're heading into the Corryvreckan straight ahead.

'I've hitched a lift with local tour boat operator David Ainsley

'to find out what causes this maelstrom.'

We have Jura on our left-hand side...

Twice a day, in the period between the tide ebbing in and flowing out,

the whirlpool lies dormant, allowing us a brief moment to glimpse what lies beneath -

a huge underwater mountain known as "the pinnacle".

Now we're sitting on top of the famous pinnacle,

the pinnacle that fuels one of the largest whirlpools in the world.

We're just going up over the top, 50, 40... That's the peak!

-We're pretty well on top of it now.

-This 170-metre pinnacle,

taller than the Blackpool Tower,

lies waiting in the path of the tide.

When the tide floods in, the weight of the water

squeezing through this narrow gulf is deflected by the pinnacle

and is forced down this huge underwater mountainside,

where it accelerates, just like a waterfall.

But the water flowing to the other side of the pinnacle travels much slower

and it is the difference between these two currents that causes it to swirl.

The only way to see this pinnacle is to dive into the maelstrom.

It is one of the most dangerous dives in Britain,

and one which only a handful of people have undertaken.

David Ainsley is one of those brave few.

If it is such a dangerous dive, why would you dive in the first place?

I think divers and mountaineers have very much the same, um,

ambitions and so on.

-It's regarded as one of the pinnacles, if you like, of diving in Britain.

-Because it's there?

-Yes!

What's it actually like down there?

The tide hits the pinnacle at the end of the flood tide and it actually pushes up.

So you have to haul yourself down with the tide flowing into your face like a river.

The biggest risk is getting taken down in the down currents.

The top of the pinnacle is at 30 metres and it goes straight down to 200 metres.

When the tide turns, it's like an underwater washing machine down there.

Rocks trapped in the swirling waters scour out hollows in the rock face.

It's chilling evidence of what a dangerous place this is.

It's a bit like when a typhoon passes overhead and you can feel the tide pulling your fins off the rocks.

-Tugging you downwards to these depths?

-Well, yes.

How long does one actually dive on the pinnacle, half an hour?

-You're lucky if you get five minutes. Ten minutes, maximum.

-How do you know when time's up?

The end of the dive is when the down currents start.

So normally on a dive your bubbles go up to the surface.

As you're diving, you'll find your bubbles start staying with you.

Then the bubbles will go down over the side of the cliff,

and we've been there looking down the side of the cliff with our bubbles going down,

-and you know you've overstayed your welcome.

-You get the hell out?

-You get the hell out of there.

For every danger thrown up by the jagged west coast,

there are just as many natural harbours and safe passages.

And it is these safe route ways that link the islands rather than separate them.

Along the west coast, the sea holds people and communities together,

and at its hub lies the port of Oban.

For over 200 years, this fishing town has been a tourist attraction in itself.

But for many travellers, their view of the town is often from the ferry as it leaves the terminus.

Because it's so close to the Inner and Outer Hebrides,

Oban can justifiably claim to be the gateway to the isles.

From here you can take your pick of 22 island destinations that pepper the west coast,

though few are as rainbow-coloured as Tobermory, more familiar to the under-6s as Balamory.

# Balamory

# What's the story in Balamory? Wouldn't you like to know? #

I'm Donald MacLean, painter and decorator.

I was born in Tobermory. I've lived here all my life.

# ..Choosing our colours with Spencer we should go... #

Balamory was filmed in Tobermory.

It's got a lot of characters in it.

Spencer the painter, who I've been called after a few times.

Kids shouting, "Dad! There's Spencer!"

'I tell them Spencer's on holiday. I'm just standing in for him.'

HE LAUGHS

The colours were started off by a former provost of Tobermory, Bobby Macleod.

He decided he would do one building red, one yellow and one blue.

He was told to change it back, but he never.

That started off the trend of all the different colours, which I think is very nice.

I'm having my piece now... while Junior's doing the work.

Don't miss any bits.

Not all visitors head to Mull for the colourful scenery.

Others are drawn by the spectacular wildlife.

The waters north of Tobermory up towards the islands of Eigg and Rhum are teeming with marine life.

Zoologist Miranda Krestovnikoff teams up with local whale expert

Brennen Fairbairns for a close-up view of the elusive minke whale.

I've done a bit of whale-watching,

but I didn't appreciate what a whale-watching hot spot this is.

There's a massive amount of species here. We see almost a third of the world population

of whales and dolphins here around the UK coast. Amazing diversity.

More common ones we see - minke whales, we see lots of dolphin species,

rissos, bottle-nosed dolphins, common dolphins,

porpoises, harbour porpoises, just to name a few of the ones we see.

And why here, what's so special about this location?

There's a lot of reasons, really, but the main reason is that we catch the edge of the Gulf Stream

and that brings warmer, richer water into this colder sea.

Brings in nutrients which helps to accounts for massive plankton bloom every year

and that brings in all the predators up the food chain from there, of course, leading up to the whale.

'And because the whales' food comes in so close to shore

'it's a great opportunity to see these fantastic animals.'

One in front, one o'clock!

Oh, yes! Really close. There's another one.

'Minke whales migrate here from the tropics to spend the summer months feeding in these rich waters.

'But no-one really knows if they stay around the Scottish coast all summer

'or if they keep moving further north where they could be in danger from an all-too-familiar threat.'

Some nations still hunt minke whales, which is the main whale we see.

Norway and Iceland, which have resumed whaling,

and because so little is known about minke whales,

we don't know if the whales we are seeing here

are the same ones that are being killed up off their shores.

So really, so much needs to be learned about these whales, really.

'In order to find out more, Brennen and his team are photographing the whales,

'so they can spot any markings, which help identify the individual animals.

'They've compiled a catalogue of the minke whales they see here each year.'

We're trying to basically get photo ID shots of the whale.

We have upwards of 80 animals now that we know that we've seen back more than one year in a row.

Minke whales, being the smallest, nobody was concerned about them,

but now, because they're being hunted, they're getting more attention which is good.

'Another reason we know so little about these whales

'is because they're fast and elusive which makes it really difficult to follow them and get photographs.'

You see them once, then you focus on them and then they're gone.

It gives you an idea of how little is known about minke whales.

Excellent, that's a good shot.

Is that good enough for identification?

-Yes, we can add that to our catalogue.

-Fantastic.

What is that terrible smell?

-It's minke whale breath.

-Really?

-Yeah.

-It smells like rotting fish.

'It's really frustrating how little you see of the whales from the surface.'

'So, we're going to use an underwater camera

'so we can appreciate the true size and beauty of these animals.

'And the best way to find whales is to find a shoal of fish,

'stick with them and hope a whale comes in.'

I can see the fish, yeah.

You can just start to see the bait ball here, there's birds feeding here.

You see the razorbills and the guillemots diving in from the surface

and they seem to be keeping the fish together in that big ball.

-We're expecting a minke whale to come in and scoop up the lot.

-That'd be great.

It's almost the different species of birds working collectively together.

There's a whale coming in, a whale coming this way over here at nine o'clock.

You got the whale there, Mike? Got it, got it here, yeah!

-Beautiful! Absolutely beautiful!

-Excellent.

-Really sleek.

It's hard to keep up with them, they keep swimming through frame really quickly.

-Whoa!

-Blimey!

I have to say it's spectacular from here. Very streamlined.

You don't appreciate, when you see them on the surface,

just how streamline they are, cos you see so little of them.

-Yep, it's coming closer.

-It's coming right underneath us.

-Fantastic. This is...

-Excellent, that's so close.

Really close. So how long is this individual we've got here?

Probably about nine metres.

-And how heavy?

-Probably about ten tons.

It's so good to see them underwater, because you don't appreciate

what size or shape they are when you see just a dorsal fin.

'It's great to know that you can see these whales and dolphins around our coastline.

'But once they leave the safety of these shores,

'they could become part of the 1,000 minke whales killed through hunting each year.

'This makes Brennen's research work even more invaluable.'

Take a look at this, the Knoydart peninsula,

there's not a single road or rail track the whole way from Loch Hourn up here

to Loch Nevis down here.

It's known as Scotland's last wilderness.

The place perfect for a quiet life.

My name is Francis Cormey, normally called Frank or Frankie.

And I look after this church, which is a backpacker's place.

And what I'm doing now is making these bloody sticks

and I sell them to the tourists.

I don't like doing that.

I'd sooner make a stick for somebody who wants a stick, actually for nothing.

One of these phil... Phila...

Well, that long word that means a kindly soul.

I've just sawed a hole in my trousers.

There it's there, you see it?

-Oh, it's... It's fallen off!

-LAUGHTER

Och, I swear a lot. I enjoy swearing, actually.

There are occasional ceilidhs in the church.

I've got a little house at the end there, with a double bed upstairs.

Just in case, by chance, I get lucky.

It's a special place this, you won't get many, many places in Scotland now

that's like this place. I actually love it up here.

But it...

40 years ago, I wouldn't have contemplated staying in a place like this,

You have to wander a bit. It's like that film - the wandering stars thing.

My wandering stars landed here.

For centuries, huge swathes of Scotland

were as isolated and as inaccessible as Knoydart

and much of the western coast was considered to be firmly beyond the pale.

Not only were its craggy islands difficult and dangerous to reach,

but they were populated by violent warrior clans.

This was the domain of the Lords of the Isles -

clan chiefs who thumbed their nose at the King in Edinburgh.

The lords protected their realm from castles built in key strategic coastal locations,

safe in the knowledge that control of the waterways made them impregnable.

But in 1540, the Scottish King James V

decided that it was time to bring these rebellious lords to heel.

I've come to Eilean Donan Castle to learn why it was so hard

for the Scottish monarch to dislodge the Lords of the Isles.

It's curious in this day and age to think of a monarch who wasn't in control of his own land.

Very much. This was part of James' back yard and he didn't run it.

The Lords of the Isles ran it.

The MacDonalds and the MacLeods on the Isle of Skye,

the MacLeans down towards Duart and all these clans held their own territories, fiercely autonomous,

in total contempt of King James or any other monarch for that matter. This was their land

and they wouldn't have been too impressed with a monarch

seeming to want to rule or govern them.

The King was kept at bay by 200 miles of almost impassable terrain separating the Isles from Edinburgh.

To an outsider, this is pretty formidable geography.

-How did the lords use this to their advantage?

-Simply by using the sea.

The sea is the lifeblood of the clan culture because these sea lochs -

these fjords - are the marine motorways of the ancient world.

You must command the sea. The sea is the important thing about the Lords of the Isles.

The King was totally disadvantaged.

He couldn't march to the Western Isles, so any punitive raid would have to be by sea.

Fine, but how on earth would he find his way through the lethal labyrinth that was the west coast?

There were no accurate maps.

Undaunted, he decided to compile one of his own -

a route map to the back door of his own kingdom.

Authored by his foremost navigator, Alexander Lindsay,

the document gave James his own definitive router, or "rutter" as it became known.

Information really was power.

Such a plan, such a route, would be a prized piece of information.

Not all the Lords of the Isles knew of the details of everyone else's territory,

but to knit it all together - the complete intelligence of the West Highlands -

was a powerful piece of equipment, a powerful document.

Armed with the rutter and a fleet of warships, James was ready for battle!

Having rounded the east and north coasts, James advanced into the very heart of clan territory.

To Dunvegan, where he captured the chief of Clan MacLeod.

Next stop, Mull and Islay,

strongholds of the MacLeans and MacDonalds.

It was here the rutter really proved its worth,

directing the fleet to a vital short cut.

"From Burnt Iland to Kilark

"south east to south, five mile.

"Kilark is a narrow passage

"and betwixt it and Kyilra is a good route."

No-one knows better than local sailor David Croy

how powerful a tool the rutter would have been.

We're talking about an age before GPS, or Admiralty charts,

they'd have been navigating in those days by following shore features.

The interesting thing is we came down on the bearing of south east -

you just could not see the Kyleakin entrance - it wasn't visible, was it?

The other thing is you've got lots of what you think could be an entrance

and certainly over here, just behind the sail, that could look like the Kyleakin entrance.

It's easy for us now, because we have the Skye Bridge telling us where to go,

but if you take the Skye Bridge out of the shoreline, you can't see that way through.

It just looks like the dark flank of the mountain.

'The rutter also gave James vital information about dangerous tides and shallow channels.

'Without this knowledge his warships could easily have found themselves stranded in hostile waters.'

"If ye will lie betwixt the Brunt islands and Kylark,

"hold the east side and ye shall find 80 fathoms.

"Kyle Rhea is a narrow passage in which is a dangerous tide."

How did those high and low tides affect passage up and down this tricky coast?

Well, one of the things is we've got a massive body of water

that's wanting to get through quite a narrow channel here, which causes big tides.

If we were rowing forward at say three knots with four knots of tide going against us, it would be...

Well, we'd go forward three but back four.

-So you're losing ground because you got the tide wrong?

-Yeah.

So James coming down here with his armada of much bigger ships than this

would have needed to know just when to try to do that,

-because to get it wrong, he'd just run those ships on to rocks.

-Right.

It was all over for the clans.

With their inaccessible island bases penetrated,

they were easy meat for James, who dragged the most troublesome clan chiefs back to Edinburgh

where he held them there as hostages till his death in 1542.

The lasting impact of Lindsay's rutter and James' expedition

is that the Western Isles were opened up to the rest of Scotland.

No longer separate fiefdoms, no longer beyond the control of the crown.

Back in Edinburgh, James added insult to injury

by claiming the title Lord of the Isles for himself and for the monarchy.

So the current Lord of the Isles is no west coast chieftain, but Prince Charles.

Royalty has always had a strong connection with the Highlands.

In 1891, mountaineer Sir Hugh Munro catalogued every peak over 3,000 feet for Queen Victoria.

I'm sure she had no intention of climbing all of them.

There are 284, 12 of them here on Skye.

And the practice of climbing them one by one and keeping a list is called munro-bagging.

It's a bit like train spotting only wetter and colder and a bit more exerting.

The person who introduced me to the mountains was my dad.

He taught me how to use a map and a compass

and I've been climbing and walking in places like this ever since.

From here on Skye, we're travelling further west to the Outer Hebrides.

The tiny island of Barra is the only place in the world

to use its beach as a runway for scheduled airline flights.

The kind of airline food you'll get here is slightly more unusual.

The menu at Barra's Castlebay Hotel includes "cockles from the airport"

collected from the beach by local boy Angus John.

I'm Angus John MacLeod and I'm from the Isle of Barra.

That's the service plane. It lands over there.

That's what makes this whole place unique, you know?

A service plane actually lands here. It's a corned beef can with wings. I can't stand flying on it.

Putting a rake in the ground and taking out cockles and putting it into a bucket's not exciting,

but at least you're in the fresh air. You're doing something.

It's an honest day's work. All you do is put the rake in,

pull it out and try and get them out from under it, you know?

And then, once they get above it, just pick them up and chuck them in the bucket.

That's my grandfather, Callum.

He's 75 this year and the guy still works like a Trojan.

He's a machine, I'm sure of it.

Even my dad, and he's a fit fella, he'll not keep up with him.

There's not many people that can. I don't know how he does it.

The cockles that we have picked will get taken to mainland Europe,

down to France and down to Spain.

There's a good few tonnes go out of here every week,

so they must be pretty fond of their cockles down in Portugal.

I don't like cockles. My mum and dad like them.

My dad will sometimes take a bucket home.

Either curry them or cook them in garlic butter, you know?

That's when I shoot out the house, I don't like them at all.

One of the biggest problems for the Western Isles is the number of young people leaving the islands.

During the last 40 years, the population has dropped by a fifth

and 12 islands have been completely abandoned.

Scarp, around 60 miles north of Barra,

is the most recently deserted island.

In the 1930s, it witnessed an ingenious attempt to improve communication,

an experiment in air mail that was to make history.

Not with aircraft but by rocket!

'The German inventor Herr Zucker visualises a cross-channel rocket mail service.'

One, two, three!

And now, 70 years later, we'll try to re-create an audacious plan

to bridge the gap between those islands.

And joining me on this mission is Mark Horton.

Back in the 1930s, Scarp was home to a thriving community,

who survived through a combination of crofting the land and fishing the local seas.

Then the most pressing problem facing the islanders was maintaining a link with nearby Harris mainland.

On a clear, calm day the journey is just a short boat trip and takes little more than a few minutes.

But when the weather is bad, this waterway might as well be a hundred miles wide

becoming completely impossible to cross.

One person who knows only too well the difficulties of living on Scarp

is Donald John MacInnes, whose family was one of the last to leave in 1971.

Harris doesn't seem particularly far off.

No, it doesn't - just on our doorstep.

But deceptively far though when you have to get across

in quite tough tides and rough weather.

We're right out in the Atlantic here.

You can see the difficulties when you look on things like the school register, for instance.

If you look at the entry from December 14th 1917.

"Only today did a few men venture to take a boat to Hushinish and thence to Amhuinnsuidhe.

"But it was a risk and far too stormy for women to venture.

"They have just returned to Hushinish but can't get home.

"Such is Scarp."

And that's the story of it - so near and yet so far.

The problems of getting to and from the island

were to bring Scarp spectacularly to the international limelight.

In January 1934, Christina MacLennan was expecting twins.

The first baby, a girl, Mary, arrived on the 13th.

The second birth ran into trouble and because of appalling weather

the doctor could not be reached on the mainland.

Christina and her unborn baby were in danger,

so, still in labour, she was transported by boat and bus to Stornoway.

The twins, Mary and Jessie, were born two days and 50 miles apart on separate islands.

This near tragedy showed communication had to be made more reliable.

The dramatic story reached 26-year-old German inventor Gerhard Zucker.

He thought he had the answer - rockets!

So he sold the government and the post office on his vision of a rocket mail service

that could deliver letters and food and even medical supplies to isolated communities like Scarp.

The authorities were intrigued and they invited him up here to show them what he could do.

By July, he was in Tarbert preparing for his big experiment.

Zucker's plan was to fire his mail rocket from Scarp

across the half-mile stretch of water and hopefully land on Harris.

To appreciate the challenge faced by Zucker,

we're going to recreate his experiment

using surviving blueprints held by the Post Office Museum.

Our modern rocketeer John Bonsor gives Mark Horton a crash course in rocket science.

John, this is what a rocket really should look like.

I mean, it's straight out of Flash Gordon or Jules Verne.

Yes, it's very much a 1920s, 1930s classical rocket design.

So how heavy is it?

-Four kilograms, including the mail.

-The mail's in the front here?

It's in three compartments at the front, so the mail's in there.

To get this mail in the air is going to be difficult.

That's why we need so many motors. Large one in the core - that's the main motor -

and then the eight smaller engines take over when the main one starts to run out of thrust,

-to make sure we get the range.

-Do you think it will work?

-I believe it will.

28th July 1934 - launch day had arrived on Scarp.

It was a momentous occasion and the tiny island buzzed with VIPs and dignitaries

who had travelled from as far afield as London to witness the great postal experiment.

Also there on the day was 14-year-old John Angus MacLeod.

What was the atmosphere like here on the day of the launch?

Well, nowadays, I would probably say it was electric,

though we didn't have electricity on the island then.

Given that you were going to have a rocket fired, well, more or less at you,

was anybody worried about where it would land?

Well, I was a little worried myself -

"Could he get it straight on to that beach over there?"

That's where it was supposed to land - make a soft landing.

-So it was just to make a smooth curve across to that beach there?

-Yes, to that beach there.

To prove its worth as a postal missile, Zucker packed the rocket with 1,800 letters.

And for the big day he had persuaded the Post Office to issue special rocket mail commemorative stamps,

because he figured that stamp collectors would pay a small fortune

for a letter that had been delivered by a rocket.

This is one of the actual letters that went in that nose cone

complete with the original stamp.

There was interest in this from all over Britain.

So Zucker's plan was beautiful and simple -

send the rocket over, have the letters go on their way,

so in one stroke he would show that rocket mail worked

and turn a profit for himself on the side.

But the singeing on the envelope tells its own story.

-One...two...three!

-BANG!

It had taken Zucker two years of hard work to design and build his rocket,

but it was all over in a matter of seconds.

The rocket didn't even make it off the ramp.

It exploded, blasting the mail all over the island like confetti.

Later it was recovered by the postmaster and ultimately delivered by more conventional means.

Not allowed to import his usual rocket fuel from Germany,

Zucker had been forced to use firework gunpowder, which was far too volatile.

The result was it exploded.

But was the design also at fault?

'Our modern rocketeers put it to the test,

'this time using a much more stable propellant.'

-OK, Neil, we're preparing for launch.

-OK, Mark. Good luck.

Thanks!

Five...four...three...two...one!

Launch!

-Mark, I've found it!

-Fantastic!

I'm just going to look at it. It seems intact though.

'Our rocket flew at over 200 mph

'and easily covered the half-mile distance between Scarp and Harris.'

Looks like a prop from Dan Dare.

-Hi, Neil.

-Mark, what do you think?

-THEY LAUGH

-It's all there, all in one piece.

Three...two...one!

Launch!

Although it looked like something straight out of a comic book,

Zucker's rocket design actually works.

-You're a genius, John.

-Thank you very much.

Mission accomplished, I think.

But for poor Zucker, things only got worse.

On returning to Germany, he was promptly imprisoned

for smuggling weapon technology out of the Reich.

Because while he'd been away developing peaceful uses for the technology,

the Nazis had been at work on a top-secret rocket programme

that would eventually deliver the infamous V1 and V2 rockets

that would bring such terror to the skies over London.

After the war, Zucker, ever the showman, kept plugging away.

But by now, he was just a sideshow earning a few quid

firing rocket mail bearing his own commemorative stamps.

We're coming to the end of our island-hopping journey along the west coast.

That 50m fang of rock there is called the Old Man of Storr

and it's a measure of how remote this region is,

that it wasn't climbed until 1955,

two years after Sherpa Tenzing and Edmund Hilary first climbed Mount Everest.

I've been coming to these mountains since I was a teenager and I'm drawn back year after year

by the space, the isolation, and the theatrical beauty of these mountains above the sea.

From here, we're heading back to the mainland over there

for the next leg of our journey along the north coast of Scotland, where life gets even tougher.

We'll be exploring life on the edge, from Cape Wrath to Dunnett Head.

Along the way, we'll find out what happened during the notorious Highland Clearances.

We look at the legacy of Britain's experimental nuclear power station, Dounreay.

And we see how the coastguard copes with battling extreme elements

on this remote and isolated stretch of coast.

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd - 2006

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