Pausing at Lybster, Caithness

As I mentioned in yesterday's blog, Steve and I went on an adventure up to John O'Groats, one of the northernmost points of Scotland on Sunday. Neither of us had been that far up in Scotland, so it was fun to see new places and experience the shifting landscapes.

About an hour or so outside of John O'Groats we decided we needed a pitstop. We saw a sign marked "Toilets" with an arrow, so we turned off the main road. We ended up in the tiny fishing village of Lybster, which is in the county of Caithness. This is what I love about our unplanned little excursions. You never know what gems you're going to stumble upon. And Lybster was a definite gem.

Lybster, which is pronounced with a long i sound, as in lie, used to be a leader in herring fishing. By 1859, 357 herring boats fished from Lybster, making it the third busiest fishing port in Scotland. But the herring industry diminished by the turn of the 20th century. The white fish industry kept Lybster busy for a time, but even that is now gone. Today, Lybster is home to small-scale fisherman going out for lobster and crab.

The harbor area, which is nestled between two grassy hills, is a pleasant way to spend an hour or so. The visitors' center has a small cafe that serves cheap grub. They have a small museum upstairs that tells Lybster's story. The museum is free, but they do have a donation box at the foot of the stairs. We popped in a couple of quid to support their efforts. One thing I learned was that there are basking sharks in the area. And when the ocean is calm (in other words, the exact opposite of how it was when we were there), you can sometimes spot their fins breaking the surface as they cruise about. That makes me want to sit on the hill on a calm day and look for sharks!

Here's the view as we drove down the winding road toward the harbor. The wind had kicked up the sea and I went a little nuts taking wave photos later (as you will see).

Lobster pots, symbols of Lybster's current incarnation. There was a large old fishing boat housed in the green boat shed in the background. 

Our view from the parking lot. Not bad, eh?

The snug little harbor. If you look at the entrance in the back, you can see how roiled up the water is from the wind. But the harbor itself was nice and calm. That's some smart engineering.

A more distant view of the harbor. See the white houses in the background? The one on the right is Inver House and it dates back to 1700. It has a castellated roof line.

Looking out toward the ocean. You may notice a group of men gathered in front of the lighthouse. They were a group of Indian tourists who were fascinated by a fisherman's haul of crab. I didn't get close enough to see the crabs well. They looked a bit like stone crabs to me, but I don't think you find them in the North Sea. 

I assume this stair-stepped wall exists to absorb some of the force of the incoming waves. That way the entrance to the harbor is a bit calmer. 

The tiny lighthouse that marks the entrance to Lybster.

Remember I mentioned I went a little wave mad? Here are a few photos of proof. I did the same thing in Puerto Rico. I have this attraction to waves on rocks, I guess. I took the first three shots from the raised area behind the lighthouse. I wasn't going to climb the slippery, non-ballistraded steps, but Steve helped me. I am such a wimp, truly. (And yes, I just made up a word non-ballistraded. But you knew what I meant, didn't you?)

I also took several photos from this point, but I just posted the best one. Here you can see the water not only crashing into the rocks, but bursting free from its channel.

When we returned to our car, the windshield showed off its collection of sea spray.