Off the northwest coast of Scotland lies Jura, famous for its whisky and its population of strong red stags. On this island, hunters also need a good awareness of the sea. Come along!
After several hours of driving, crossing Scotland from east to west, we finally arrive – quite literally – in a safe harbor. At the end of the small, winding road, lined by ancient stone walls, lies the small port of Keills. The sky hangs low, but a fascinating stillness prevails. As we board the boat that will take us to the isle of Jura, the captain warns us: This is the calm before the storm…After enjoying a glass of the local drink, said to help ease both anxiety and seasickness, we settle into our bucket seats and the boat heads towards the channel separating the island from the mainland. Suddenly, it gets dark – but not dark enough to hide the walls of water coming towards us. Within moments, we are on a rollercoaster as the speedboat whips over waves as high as houses. Now we understand why the seats are fitted with safety belts, and we quickly fasten ours. As we battle the raging elements, the captain explains that we’re just a stone’s throw from Corryvreckan. This natural phenomenon is caused by tidal currents that push between the northern tip of Jura and the southern tip of its neighboring island, Scarba. A huge whirlpool of water, driven by currents of up to 16 km/h, it forms standing waves up to eight meters high. This makes Corryvreckan the third-largest maelstrom in the world. Originally considered “non-navigable” by the Royal Navy, it is now categorized as “extremely dangerous”.
However, we first set off in the opposite direction to meet up with Yann Legrand and his Scottish friend Andy, who are waiting for us in Craighouse. This small fishing village is the only settlement on the island and we lodge at the Jura Hotel – next door to the distillery where the famous Isle of Jura Pure Malt is produced. Jura is also renowned for its large population of red deer. At around 5000, the deer far outnumber the humans living here. Seven people share ownership of the island, which is one of the most sparsely populated regions in Europe. Welcome to the Inner Hebrides.
As day breaks over the isle of Jura and the storm finally subsides, we are woken up by two belligerent stags in the hotel garden. Yann was right: Here, we are guests of the red deer. Of course, we are not allowed to hunt near the village, so we have arranged to meet up with Craig, Gamekeeper on an estate near the island’s north end. He wears a checked shirt, a tie and, of course, Scottish tweed from head to toe. His hands are marked from years in the cold, rain, salt water and blood of the game animals that he holds in highest regard. First off, we go to the shooting range so that our guide can evaluate our skills before he leads us into the peat bogs of his hunting grounds. Three bullets each at 100 meters, six bullseyes, a grin that says it all. And with that, our day begins. One that can only be experienced in Scotland.
On the way to a jetty, where Craig will have us board a dinghy to reach his barge anchored offshore, we enjoy the sight of a landscape dominated by the Paps of Jura – three mountains over 730 meters high that make the silhouette of the Inner Hebrides unmistakable. It is early October, the rut is in full swing, and we see the first herd of red deer as Craig motors from one loch to another. These lakes are connected by narrow passages and bordered by vertiginous cliffs from which sometimes a stag, sometimes a sea eagle proudly looks down on us. A breathtaking spectacle, full of wild beauty.
Finally, the barge slows down, the anchor is dropped and we reach the end of a bay with the canoe, which we moor firmly to the shore. A final check of the luggage and we enter the heart of the maritime Highlands in single file. The wind picks up and becomes deafening on the ridges that we cross as quickly as possible. We soon hear rutting cries and make our way through the sodden peat. We carry the unloaded rifle in a sheath to protect it from bumps and dirt. Craig does not allow us to transport his equipment, as he alone is responsible for that task. We try to stalk red deer several times, but without success. The high density of game guarantees us numerous sightings, but we are also being watched from all sides. And the hunt becomes even more challenging than expected. As the hours pass, the wind’s strength grows. Strong gusts of wind force us to take shelter in deep valleys to avoid being knocked over. The red deer do the same. We observe several herds that are on the move.
After a delicious lunch in the shelter of a huge rock, our next destination is a sunny slope sheltered from the wind. A successful strategy, and we bag our first Jura stag here. After field-dressing it, we bring it down to the bank where we will pick it up at the end of our hunt. Craig is torn as to whether we should return to the boat immediately or continue the hunt, as hunting on Jura requires keeping a close eye on the tides. We are still eight kilometers away from the boat and it is better to hurry back.
However, after barely a kilometer, we spot a young, lame stag. It was probably injured in a fight and Craig asks us to put it out of its misery. We remove our rucksacks and clamber up the slope to find a good shooting position. When we arrive on the ridge, short of breath and with pounding hearts, we attach a bipod to the rifle. The stag is 185 meters away. He pauses briefly, turns around and the .308 Win cuts the air. Two ravens appear out of nowhere, delighted by a potential meal. They would be able to feast without any risk of poisoning: Craig hasn’t used lead ammunition for a long time, far longer than required by law.
When we return to the boat, we realize that it’s already too late. The water has risen and Craig has no choice but to plunge into the freezing water to reach the boat’s mooring. He swims for less than a minute, but that’s enough to freeze his limbs and almost prevent him from pulling himself aboard. Back on the shore, he quickly puts on his woolens and explains to us with a broad smile that wool is indeed “the best life insurance in the world”. Shortly afterwards, our two stags lie safely in the bottom of the canoe. Then we reach the barge and make our way to our starting point while the wind blows in off the North Atlantic.
In Scotland, it’s normal to experience all four seasons in the course of one day. On our second day of hunting, however, this adage does not hold true. Today we’ll be stalking on our hands and knees at the southern tip of the island, once again crawling through peat, granite and heather. Under an azure sky and in almost-warm sunshine, we are guided by William, who has been Head Gamekeeper on this estate long enough to finally retire. This will be his last guided tour, and although trophies are never really the focus for stalkers in Scotland, William suggests we hunt a strong, old stag: a majestic 14-pointer. We humbly accept this privilege and are touched by his proposal. William was born on Jura 70 years ago, has never left the island, and knows it better than anyone else. He is intimately familiar with every part of the landscape, where he has seen generations of red deer grow up and die. He has helped preserve the traditions and skills of the main profession on this piece of land 43 km long and 7 km wide. For William, it has been nothing less than his whole life. A life dedicated to hunting, fishing and caring for this rugged natural environment that is home to hundreds of sensitive species. A life that inspires us to dedicate our 14-pointer to him.