Ambience Day 3 - Birding the Harbour in Invergordon Scotland

 “The three great elemental sounds in nature are the sound of rain, the sound of wind in a primeval wood, and the sound of the ocean on a beach.”

Henry Beston, The Outermost House

 

Approaching Invergordon

 
When we looked out the porthole of our cozy cabin aboard Ambience this morning, a thin band of red and orange light was already appearing above the North Sea off the coast of Scotland. 

 
Sunrise wasn't officially until 7:19 AM, but the light was rapidly growing stronger a good hour earlier than that.  Amid it, the light revealed that we were sailing alongside land.  Sean was dressed and up on deck in a flash, while I took a few minutes longer and put on a few more layers of clothing for a morning that was forecast to be windy and 7⁰C.

Next door, I could hear our neighbours getting ready for a shore day in Invergordon, or perhaps for an excursion to Inverness, as I left the warmth of our cabin around 6:45 AM.  On my way to the top of the ship I stepped outside on the Deck 7 promenade, where I felt the chill of the fresh air on my face. 

 
The brilliant reds and oranges of the sunrise were already fading to soft pale yellows and pinks, interspersed with clouds that were little more than smudges of pale grey.  The colours reflected on a sea ruffled only by small ripples - a scene that stood in sharp contrast to the overly active swells and whitecaps of yesterday.

Eventually, I continued up onto Deck 12, which was already busy with people.  Many were standing at the railings along the jogging track at the top of the ship, some with cameras and binoculars in hand. (My sort of people!)

 

The wind was quite strong and cold up there, but I was pleased to see that no one seemed to be deterred. In particular, small groups of passengers were gathered around the two ORCA volunteers, who promised to give a shout-out if they noticed any marine wildlife.  They also advised everyone to look out for white-sided dolphins as we sailed up the firth towards Invergordon, and quite a few of us did just that, albeit with limited success.
 

Sunrise over Cromarty Firth

 
As the ship turned west into the shelter of Cromarty Firth, we could see the tall cliffs of northern Scotland rising up out of the sea on both sides.  Lit by the golden light of the rising sun, the craggy white and red rock, rusty red heather, emerald green moss, and dark green shrubs of the steep hills seemed to positively glow. Using binoculars, I could just spot the remains of concrete bunkers perched precariously on outcroppings and hillocks along the coast in seemingly impossible-to-reach spots once used for coastal defence. 

 
At the mouth of the firth, the ship slowed to pick up the harbour pilot.  As the small boat pulled up alongside a European Shag flew low across the surface of the still water, while European Herring Gulls flew past overhead. 

As we progressed farther into the firth we passed the first of half a dozen or so oil and gas platforms.  At one point, we passed within a few meters of one of these giant metal structures, which rose above us - despite the fact that we were standing on the 14th deck of the ship.  I did not spot any human or avian life moving about on the complex metal skeletons, and they didn't seem to be making any sound, or at least none that was audible above the roar of the wind.

Soon, small villages of white cottages with steeply sloping slate roofs began to appear along the cliff tops, green pastures filled with sheep extending up the rolling hills above them. 
 

Confused as Crew

 
Around this point, I went in search of Sean. As I guessed, he had returned to the back of the ship, happily photographing the stunning landscape and the many seabirds that were busily making their way back and forth across the bay.  He was also deep in conversation with several other passengers, one of whom mistook Sean for a ship's photographer, asking him for a lesson in how to use his brand new camera, and another who seemed eager to discuss camera gear and the merits and faults of various lenses.  None of these situations is new to him.

 
In the first few days aboard Ambience, somehow Sean managed to be mistaken for crew not once, not twice, but three separate times - apparently his cameras, determination to stay outdoors all day outdoors, and his demeanour were enough to qualify him (in some people’s minds) as the ship’s Photographer-in-Residence.
 
Each encounter began with hopeful requests for help, turning on a camera, finding the zoom, or deciphering the digital menus, and ended with the same sudden flicker of embarrassment as people realized that he was simply another passenger wandering around on deck.  Oddly, this revelation always seemed to earn him a quick, dismissive comment - because, I suppose, nothing says “thank you for trying to help” like scolding the person who wasn’t crew in the first place. Still, I suppose it’s flattering that his wandering around with a camera made him look remotely competent.   If this situation continues, Sean might have to find a smoother way of saying “no I don’t work here, but I am willing to help you out.”
 

Speaks to a Need

 
Sean being repeatedly mistaken for a member of the crew on ships, in my opinion,  reveals something more than a simple case of mistaken identity. Time and again, passengers approached him with questions about cameras and settings, or for help capturing the Northern Lights, often holding up phones and cameras with a mix of excitement and uncertainty. These encounters spoke to a genuine interest - and a clear need on board where people wanted to understand how to better use the tools in their hands to record what they were seeing and capture their journey.

 
Just as ORCA’s enrichment talks on marine life drew consistently full audiences, there seemed to be a real appetite for practical, hands-on photography guidance. We had seen how effective this could be before, notably aboard Wind Surf, where Rosemary and Pat offered knowledgeable, approachable photography sessions that were extraordinarily popular throughout the voyage. The repeated questions weren’t interruptions at all, but quiet evidence that passengers were curious about nature and the northern lights as well as seeking to improve their photography skills.
 

RSPB Udale Bay and RSPB Nigg

Amid all of this, Ambience sailed past RSPB Udale Bay, a birding hotspot that hosts thousands of waders, ducks, and geese, and in particular huge flocks of up to 5,000 migrating Eurasian Wigeons.  Located on the shores of the intertidal bay, it features coastal, estuary, mudflat, and wetland habitats, and it has recently received a new observation hide (bird blind).  Over 131 avian species have been reported at the reserve on eBird, and in the past couple weeks, these observations have included flocks of Whooper Swans, Pink-footed Geese, Eurasian Wigeons, Eurasian Curlews, and Long-tailed Ducks, among other things. 

This area is managed by the RSPB for habitat protection and public enjoyment. Apparently, Udale Bay offers accessible viewpoints, interpretation boards, and a peaceful place for slow-travel birdwatching - an ideal stop for anyone journeying through the Black Isle or exploring the nature-rich coastlines of northern Scotland.

 

As we passed by, we could see hundreds of birds standing on the mudflats at Udale Bay and spilling out into the water, but the shore was so far away it was impossible to make a positive species identification. 

Around this same time, the skies above the ship were filled with huge v's of migrating geese, their somewhat squeaky honks reverberating across the bay.  The experienced birders on board seemed conflicted about whether they were Pink-footed or Greylag Geese, and without knowing what either one sounds like, I was unable to distinguish them.  This didn't remove from the magic of a sky filled with geese, and it brought back strong memories of hiking across Quebec on the Trans Canada Trail and seeing endless streams of Canada and Snow Geese flying south for the winter.  Then, as now, the sounds of their voices pulled at something deep inside, a feeling that winter is coming and now one must make the most of time.

The scenery as we slipped down Cromarty Firth towards Invergordon was spectacular and otherworldly.  The rolling hills were bathed in soft golden hues, casting an almost ethereal glow across the vibrant rural landscape. Small villages, tucked along the shore, seemed to rise out of the mist, and delicate steeples as well as tiny white cottages peeked through the haze. The mist itself added a magical quality to the setting, wrapping the fields and villages in a veil of mystery and creating depth and layers in the distant hills. 
 

Whales, Seals, and Birds

 
It was fully light, and our hands and faces were pretty well frozen solid from the wind when the ship began to turn sharply to dock at Invergordon.  We had been enjoying watching a plethora of birds circling above, including Kittiwakes, Greater Black-backed and Glaucous Gulls, while Great Cormorants made more direct flights closer to the ocean's surface.

 
Just as the ship was slowly spinning into position at the dock, we spotted a dark grey fin breaking the surface in a few brief undulations and then gone.  

Sadly, no ORCA volunteers were in the vicinity to help with the identification, but later on, iNaturalist confirmed it was a humpback whale!  Excitingly, just as we were docking, Sean also spotted the nose of a Harbour Seal in the bay, its rounded head more strongly spotted than any seal we've previously seen, and its lovely nose sporting a full set of magnificent whiskers.

Breakfast onboard

Docked and more than a little chilled, we stepped into the Borough Market to warm up and have a bite of breakfast before going ashore.  It was quite busy and a little chaotic, but we managed to find a table, and Sean had a delicious-looking omelet with bacon while I had porridge with fresh fruit.  

As we looked out the window, it began to rain gently, and we could see several showers making their way across the hills.  It reminded us of hiking the West Highland Way, when we could see the rain coming in great white sheets across the moors, looking quite picturesque right up until it completely drenched us.  Five minutes later, the sun would be shining once again, and we would be treated to a rainbow, which is exactly what happened as we disembarked the ship.

Invergordon Scotland

Invergordon is a small town that was established along the harbour in 1828.  Although the region has a history of inhabitation that extends back to Pictish times, Invergordon itself grew from a small fishing settlement.  It got a town hall in 1871, and a naval base was established in the town in 1914 in anticipation of World War I.  During the Great War, the port supplied oil and water to British naval ships, and in WWII, it had a large tank farm nearby, which was hit by a German bomb. 

The town is also remembered for the 1931 Invergordon Mutiny, when sailors protested drastic pay cuts during the Great Depression - an event that reverberated throughout Britain.

 
The naval base closed in 1956, but its remains can apparently still be seen behind the main downtown area.  In 1959, the Invergordon Grain Distillery, operated by the whiskey giant Whyte and Mackay, was established.  Today, the small town is visited by cruise ships on their way to Norway, and it is active in the energy sector, repairing and maintaining oil rigs in the harbour and manufacturing components for wind turbines.

Excursion Possibilities in Invergordon

 
For passengers on Ambience, the port stop in Invergordon offered a mix of excursions that catered to history lovers, walkers, and those simply wanting a gentle taste of the Highlands. Travellers seeking an easy-paced introduction could join the Dornoch and Highlands @ Ease tour (£42 pp), while others opted for a simple Inverness Transfer (£29 pp) to explore the Highland capital independently. Nature enthusiasts were drawn to the Rogie Falls Hike (£52 pp), a short but rewarding woodland walk to one of the region’s most photogenic cascades. For history and architecture, the cruise line featured visits to Dunrobin Castle (£59 pp) as well as the dramatic ruins of Urquhart Castle overlooking Loch Ness (£62 pp). Finally, those curious about local traditions could savour a taste of Highland whisky on the Glen Ord Distillery and Beauly tour (£59 pp), blending heritage, village charm, and a warming dram of Whiskey.
 

Disembarking Ambience

 
By 9 AM, we were back in our room, getting ready to wander and explore. 

 
Soon after, when we stepped off the ship, we were directed to board a shuttle bus that would take us out of the active working portion of the port.  There was a tiny information booth set up alongside the gangway, and Sean stepped inside to ask if there was any information on birding hotspots in the area.  The very friendly and kind lady inside somewhat skeptically replied that there weren't really 'birding areas' since birds fly around in the area and can be found everywhere, but then she proceeded to hand Sean a very useful pamphlet on nature reserves and RSPB sites in the region.

This information was helpful because we had decided not to take an excursion into Inverness, but instead to spend the day exploring and birding in Invergordon instead.  Among the available excursions were trips to Urquhart Castle, Loch Ness, and Inverness, all of which we had previously visited while hiking the Great Glen Way.  As a result, we didn't feel we could justify the steep costs of the bus tours into town, and most importantly, we were pretty happy just to explore on foot.

Invergordon Parish Church

After the two-minute shuttle bus ride out of the port district, our first stop was the Invergordon Parish Church, whose tall brown steeple rose up at the end of the main street.  We followed the steady tide of other cruise passengers slowly making their way up the hill, and soon realized one of the advantages of being part of a larger group.  Often when we hike independently, even on pilgrimage routes like the Via de la Plata or Camino Sanabres, most of the churches we come to are closed.  This time, however, the main doors of the church stood open, and the parish priest was standing inside to welcome the waves of visitors from the ship.

The inside of the church was quite beautiful, with a dark wood ceiling that reminded us of the inside of an upturned boat.  A large loft at the back housed a huge organ, and the stained glass windows that lined the building showed beautiful red flowers on a white background.  Traditional wooden pews filled the space in front of a modest wooden altar, creating an atmosphere that felt peaceful.  With a daycare center at the side, the church felt like a place where the past and present coexist, offering an area of calm and reflection amidst the bustle of modern life.
 

Main Street and Murals

After visiting the church, we walked along the main street of the village, which was lined with small shops and cafés.  Enticing smells wafted out of a Harry Cow Bakery, and several shops selling local crafts, artwork, and photography enticed souvenir shoppers inside. There were other necessities, including a co-op grocery store, where experienced crew members and passengers who were savvier than we were stocked up on snacks and pop before heading to Norway, where such unhealthy things are apparently subject to a sin tax that makes them prohibitively expensive. 

One of the highlights of Invergordon was its colourful and creative Mural Walk.  As part of this project, large murals had been painted on the outside walls of many public buildings, appearing down almost every single alley in the village. 

 

The scenes depicted a variety of themes, including scenes from Invergordon during the World Wars, servicemen from the naval base, the Mutiny of 1931, sailing boats, and local birds and marine wildlife.

 
Here, each of the community-painted murals captured local identity, regional heritage, and seafaring culture.   It is always interesting to see what topics and themes are reflected the artwork of a place, and we recognized some of the Maritime subjects from murals we'd seen while hiking the East Coast Trail in Newfoundland several years ago.

Birding the Shorelines of Invergordon

Invergordon sits on the sheltered waters of the Cromarty Firth, a deep natural inlet that has long shaped the town’s working character. The wide, calm harbour explains both its importance as a port and why birdlife gathers so readily along its edges.

 

We followed the sidewalk through town and out the side, where it became a lovely waterfront promenade.  The tide was just going out, and to our delight, we spotted a large brown Eurasian Curlew foraging on the rocky beach along the water's edge.  We watched as it expertly scooped up a small morsel and improbably drew it up the length of its ridiculously long curved bill and into its mouth.  How had it seen the tidbit at the end of such a long bill, and how had it manoeuvred the food into its mouth?  Nature really is amazing sometimes!

 

As we made our way slowly along the shoreline, we spotted more European Herring and Great Black-backed Gulls playing in the wind overhead.  We also noticed several Hooded Crows picking through the seaweed and stones on the beach, and several Carrion Crows flew purposefully past.  A little farther along, we came across a Grey Heron standing quietly on the rocks, the waves lapping its long toes. It was hunched up against the cold, its head pulled in and the feathers on its crown sticking up, giving it a very grumpy demeanour. 

 
A highlight was spotting several pairs of Eurasian Oystercatchers, their black and white bodies strangely camouflaged against the yellows, reds, greens, and greys of the seaweed-strewn beach, but their bright orange legs and bills standing out like beacons.  As these elegant birds probed the sand with their long beaks, they kept each other company, mumbling back and forth in soft, companionable tones.

 
Near the first pair, we also spotted an interesting bit of marine detritus - the remains of a large curled octopus, hinting at the mysteries of the intriguing underworld world of the ocean that humans know so little about.

 
Farther out, small groups of Long-tailed Ducks, Common Eiders, and Great Scaup paddled around in small groups, diving for fish or crustaceans around an offshore buoy.  We also spotted several Common Mergansers swimming and diving in the calm, silvery grey water of the harbour, and a small group of elegant black and white Common Murres were a little farther out still.  

Clearly, Cromarty Firth supports a diversity of bird life, and we weren't the only ones out enjoying the spectacle.  Indeed, as we continued along the shoreline, we were joined and passed by half a dozen other couples from the ship, all of whom were looking for birds and eager to compare notes.  It felt kind of nice to be part of a community of fellow birdwatchers who all seemed genuinely excited by the birds along the way.

 
The waterfront road we were following was lined with small cottages, many of which had glass-enclosed sunrooms on the sides and large windows at the front to take in the ocean views.  Many had lush gardens around them, which still had a surprising number of blooming flowers, while others had created gardens across the road, right above the pebble beach.  Given the damp and chilly weather, we were somewhat surprised to see palm trees among the mix.

We enjoyed exploring and birding the shoreline so much that we walked all the way to, and then through, Saltburn, the next village up the coast from Invergordon.  By this point, the skies were beginning to darken somewhat alarmingly, and we were beginning to get a bit chilly, so we turned around and headed back toward Invergordon.

 
We had been hoping to find a pub for a pint and something warm to eat, but sadly, there didn't seem to be anything open except a tea room that was already jam-packed with cruise ship passengers.  As there was nowhere to sit inside, and the pubs seemed to be inexplicably closed for the afternoon, we boarded the shuttle bus back to the ship, finding it surprisingly full.
 

Return to Ambience, Pub Trivia

When we got back on board and had been scanned through security, we headed up to the Borough Market for a small snack.  I had a banana crumble pudding, which was very tasty and warm, while Sean had a tiny plate of cheese and crackers.  After this, with the best of intentions, we headed to the Purple Turtle Pub to do some journal writing and upload photographs of birds to iNaturalist.   However, we were soon distracted by a lively and competitive game of mini golf that was taking place on the dance floor. 

Next, we got sucked into a trivia session where we had to guess the destination mentioned in a song or song title, based on a short clip of the music.  This turned into a team event, with another couple and a lovely gentleman helping us out.  Even so, we only managed 60 out of 100 points, but fun was had by all.  This was followed by a long and interesting conversation with our new tablemates, during which we came to realize just how many people had been suffering from seasickness in the rocky seas over the first few days.  Just like during our transatlantic crossing on Wind Surf, when high seas had people feeling under the weather, we were once left feeling extremely grateful to be spared that nightmare!

Bingo Lingo

 
As if a conspiracy were taking place to prevent us from focusing on our journaling and photo editing, a lively game of bingo soon began.  We didn't participate, but were immediately distracted by the 'bingo lingo' being used, a tradition we had never heard of before.  Apparently, during games of bingo played in the UK, announcers frequently use nicknames to refer to certain numbers.  For example, instead of simply saying '11', the caller will say 'a pair of legs,' instead of 44 they will call 'droopy drawers,' and for 88 they will say 'jelly on a plate, wibble wobble.'   

Sometimes this takes the form of call and answer, where the announcer says the number, and the audience responds.  For example, the number two might be called as 'one little duck' and the audience responds with a 'quack,' while three is referred to as 'buzzing bees' and the audience buzzes.  This was certainly a highly entertaining lesson in British tradition that we never knew of before.
 

Dinner in Buckingham Restaurant

When bingo concluded, we made our way downstairs to our cabin to freshen up and change for dinner.  This was our first meal in the Buckingham Restaurant, where all six people at our table were present at the same time, and to our surprise, the man sitting next to me was a hiker, although his wife was not.

 
He spoke with great enthusiasm and passion about walking the Camino Frances, reminding us again of the simple joy and feeling of freedom that comes from walking with everything you need in the pack on your back.  It felt like a fortuitous coincidence to meet someone else who had been called to the Camino through the movie The Way, and to have them articulate so succinctly what keeps drawing them back to trails in the United Kingdom and Nepal.

Comedy and Live Music

After dinner, we made our way up to the Observatory lounge and dance area on the top floor of Ambience, where we listened to live music for around half an hour.  The guitar player and singer were both good, but we decided to head down to Palladium to listen to the comedian Rudy West. 
 
When we arrived, the theatre was standing room only, so we stood at the back, unsure whether we would enjoy the show or not.  We consider ourselves fans of British comedy, enjoying shows like Monty Python, Fawlty Towers, Are You Being Served?, Mr. Bean, and others so we were optimistic.

 
Unfortunately, the show turned out not to be to our taste, largely because the humour was so specifically British that we didn't understand many of the punch lines, which relied on references to politicians, local cultures, and regional stereotypes that we were completely unfamiliar with.  Once again, we were definitely in the minority, because our fellow passengers enthusiastically declared the show to be absolutely hilarious afterwards.   I suspect it would be like asking UK residents or Europeans to appreciate the comedic insights of Canadian Rick Mercer, wherein understanding the regional context of his commentary is necessary to appreciate his wit and wisdom.

As more and more people flooded into the auditorium looking for seats, finding none, and as a result standing in our line of sight, we decided to give up and return to the live music upstairs.  Strangely, as we toured the ship over the next half hour or so we found it to be very quiet.  Passengers from the first dinner sitting were in the Palladium Theatre enjoying the main show of the evening, while passengers in the second seating were still in the Buckingham Restaurant.  As a result, it was a good time for the musicians to take a break, and in what felt like a bit of an oversight, no live music was being played anywhere. 
 

Evening Time Change

 
Though grateful for the distractions and wonderful music this evening, eventually we ran out of excuses to avoid the travel journal writing, and so we returned to our cabin for a night of working. Tonight, our clocks jump ahead an hour to synchronize with Norwegian time, which means we will have an hour less to sleep than usual. 

While tomorrow is another sea day during which Ambience will pass the Shetland Islands and make its way across the North Sea to Norway, I'm sure it will be anything but dull.  Time to get to work!

See you on deck!

Nautical Term for the Day: Any Port in a Storm - In dangerous weather, a captain would take shelter anywhere possible, regardless of the harbour’s quality. Today, it reminds us that in difficulty, practicality outweighs preference.