It looks as if it should be worshipped. It looks like a warning. It looks like a maritime version of The Wicker Man. I’ve been staring out at this cage for years, from the harbour, from the rocky beach on the north shore, from a sailboat gliding or bouncing by. I’ve even flown over it in a tiny plane, but I’ve never been this close.
Down level with its feet, I gaze up reverently. Whatever else it is, it’s a testament to the value of older skills and sensibilities. The engineer steering the boat I’m on remarks it’s as sturdy as the day it was made, that we don’t make steel like that now, if we make it at all. Other old markers have been dismantled (with difficulty) and replaced with modern flimsier structures, all lights and bells and whistles. I’m glad this one remains intact, a welcome anachronism, a sound navigation aid in treacherous times.
Loch Inver, Assynt, Scotland
17th July 2025