Isle Of Staffa And Fingal's Cave

The mission brief was simple, the plan highly ambitious. We had to fly a drone, in a narrow sea cave, in a storm, on a remote Scottish island, in the middle of the Hebrides and come home unscathed. The only thing missing, the strap line, "Your mission should you choose to accept it..." Ethan Hunt was busy with Rogue Nation, Aerialworx took the call!

The Edinburgh International Film Festival is world renowned for discovering and promoting the very best in international cinema – and for heralding and debating changes in global filmmaking. Intimate in its scale, ambitious in its scope, and fuelled by pure passion for cinema in all its manifestations. For the 2016 festival, a film was proposed to showcase Felix Mendelssohn Hebrides Overture and Fingal's Cave in a way never done before using a drone to capture the islands and caves from a unique perspective.

The island of Staffa is one of the smallest islands in the Southern Hebrides it stands out by the remarkable presence of the famous Fingal's Cave, which is a geological marvel. Staffa itself is a remarkable little island, located south-west off the isle of Ulva and halfway between the Isle of Mull and the Treshnish Isles. An entirely volcanic island, is probably best known for its unique geological features of caves and the unique shape of the basalt columns which are also found in the Giant's Causeway and Rathlin Island in Northern Ireland. When it was formed, the lava contracted towards each of a series of equally-spaced centres as it cooled and solidified into prismatic columns. The columns typically have three to eight sides, six being most common.

The island has been visited by many famous people drawn to Fingal's Cave. None more prominent than Felix Mendelssohn. His astonishing piece of music, inspired Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, Jules Verne and Dr David Livingstone to name a few, to make the perilous journey to see the caves for themselves.

Fingal's Cave itself has a large arched entrance and is filled by the sea; however, boats cannot normally enter unless the sea is very calm. The continual pounding from the Atlantic makes this a very rare event and the tight confines of the narrow causeway in and out of the caves make access difficult.

For the three days on location we were to be based on the stunningly beautiful island of Iona, the closest of the inhabited islands of the Inner Hebrides. We initially intended to start the filming in late October when the vast majority of tourists had finished the annual migration to the island. A date was set and all eyes were on the weather forecast, which we studied daily. A barmy Indian summer slowly slipped into October and we thought we would strike lucky with the weather. As the day to start the shoot approached the more obvious it became that the closer we got to our elected date the more the weather would deteriorate. A storm was predicted later in the week so a rapid re evaluation of the plan was required and a spur of the moment decision had to be made. With Gerry, the film director, stuck on a shoot in Europe it meant we would have to go it alone for the first day of filming. The decision to give the green light to go was given only a matter of hours before we set off. As it transpired the call turned out to be an excellent decision.

Arriving late at Oban we managed to catch the last ferry off the mainland. Our trip on the Cal Mac ferry was highlighted by one of the most remarkable sunsets I have ever seen. The sky lit up in a kaleidoscope of colours, silhouetted by our first glimpse of the Southern Hebrides islands that were to become our home for the next few days.

Our unplanned early departure meant we were unable to make the crossing to Iona as initially planned. So overnight accommodation was sought in a traditional Scottish Pub with good pub grub, which was by no means an anti-climax. The next day a pre-dawn start was needed in order to make the first ferry to Iona. The gin clear skies and quiet roads meant the early morning drive across Mull was beautiful. I just wish we would have had more time to stop and savour the atmosphere, but time was pressing, and we had a ferry to catch. With minutes to spare we drove onto the ferry and crossed the narrow channel to Iona. We were greeted on the slipway of Iona by the charismatic smile of Mark Jardine from Alternative Boat Hire. He was to be our skipper and his sons our crew for the shoot.

Mark's remarkable boat, the Birthe Marie, is a traditional wooden ex-working sailing fishing boat. This was chosen to be our trusty vessel to transport us to and from Staffa. Built as a fishing boat in Denmark in 1933, Birthe Marie is an unashamedly old fashioned boat with a gaff ketch rig and a solidity that is reassuring. The boat fitted superbly into the coastal scene, disturbing little, quietly finding her way into places hidden from life ashore. For her size Birthe Marie is considered a heavy boat and can take a little time to build up speed but her weight comes into its own in rough seas when she is a reassuring boat to be on when things get tough. This would prove to be a major asset as the week progressed.

Introductions where quickly exchanged as we loaded our equipment onto the Birthe Marie and set off for Staffa. Most of our equipment was stowed below decks but our drone had to be strapped to the deck. The drone encased in its waterproof transport box had more than adequate protection from the elements.

The blue skies held with us and a gentle breeze gave us an excellent view of Iona as we set off along its beautiful white sandy coastline. After an hours journey the beauty of Iona was replaced by our sharply contrasting first view of Staffa. It's harshly jagged cliffs rising out of the sea like the impenetrable walls of a long forgotten castle. On a calm day such as this the majestic beauty of the island was breath taking. Only the evidence of the storm-shattered rocks gave us an insight on how perilous this place could be. Anchoring the Birthe Marie off in deep water we transferred all our equipment onto a small wooden boat and set off on the short journey to a suitable landing point. Once unloaded, our boat set off back to the Birthe Marie out of harm's way, leaving us alone on the island for the remainder of the morning. Only then did the peace and solitude of the island really start to hit home.

Our time on the island was a precious commodity so after a quick recce of the landscape and caves, we rigged up the drone and started filming. The caves were magnificent, the crystal clear water allowed the sun light to reflect into Fingal's Cave and bring out the deep crimson pink colours in the rocks. The contrast of the ink black prismatic basalt columns made the cave resemble a giant gothic cathedral.

After several hours filming the cave and its fantastic geology we put in a call to Mark our skipper so we could relocate to the other side of the island to get a different perspective of the cave. Mark advised us that an ideal location would be the south western side of the island. Access to this area is usually not possible as the rough sea defies any attempt to land. Luck once again smiled at us and we found a suitable place to scramble to shore from our little boat. Inaccessible by sheer cliffs on one side and protected by an unforgiving sea on the other it's questionable whether man had stepped foot on this part of the island for quite some time.

Once again we carried out a recce to find a suitable take-off and landing area. As Stef walked around a rocky outcrop there was a yell of surprise. I'm not sure who got the biggest shock; the baby seal woken rudely from its slumber, or Stef's shock at nearly stepping on the pup. With doting parents nearby keeping a very close eye on the events, Stef made a rapid exit to a safer location.

As the sun tracked across the sky and descended to the horizon the rugged cliffs of the island glowed red and the deep shadows in the caves made a dramatic setting to film. All too soon we had to head off as we're up against the ever-decreasing daylight and still had a 40-minute sail home. With the Birthe Marie making good speed, we arrived back at Iona as the sun was setting. The St Columba Hotel was a great location to freshen up, enjoy a great meal and review the day's filming.

Our early start the next day was greeted by more typical Autumn Scottish weather. The early onset of the forecasted storm was starting to make its presence felt and rain showers were to be the order of the day. Fresh off the flight from Italy and still dressed in his Mediterranean attire, we collected Gerry from the ferry slipway on the Isle of Mull. Introductions were quickly exchanged and while Gerry changed into clothes more suitable for a sailboat, we wasted no time and headed off to Staffa for our second day of filming.

The weather proved to be a major handicap. With heavy showers rolling in throughout the day, we had to work hard to get the shots we wanted. We elected to concentrate on the sea swell stirred up by the gentle breeze. Relatively calm as it was, the wind still creating dramatic waves which crashed into the rocks with a mesmerising, unstoppable force.

We spent the morning filming the splendour of the sea. At one point we were joined by a pair of seals who decided they wanted to get a closer look at the drone. Their curiosity knew no bounds as they tumbled in and out of the surf to get a closer look at this strange flying object from another world. Getting closer and closer with each pass we managed to get shots that any nature programme would be proud of.

As the daylight drew to a close we packed up our kit and headed back to Iona. That evening was spent reviewing the film we had taken and checking the weather. The storm that had been forecast was rapidly approaching and even the most optimistic forecast gave us only a few hours on the island before the weather would turn.

An early start saw us casting off just before dawn for our third and final day on Staffa. It gave us a good insight of what was to come. With dark forbidding skies threatening overhead and an ever-increasing sea swell, we punched our way through the rough and tumble of the waves and headed to Staffa.

With the rough sea pounding the rocks, the transformation of Fingal's Cave was dramatic. The peace and tranquillity we had encountered on our first day had been shattered by pounding waves beating an endless assault on the basalt columns.

Gone was the crystal clear water and deep crimson pink colours in the rocks, white swirling surf contrasting starkly with the volcanic black rock. The noise within the cave was an assault on our ears. Its perfect acoustics turned the rush of the sea into the roar of a passing freight train as each wave took their turn to drive relentlessly into the cave. The howling wind picking up the surf from the crest of each wave as it entered the cave truly was an awesome sight.

Flying a drone in this environment was extremely challenging. As each wave entered the cave it would squeeze the air out and as the wave receded it left a vacuum behind. Fly too close to the water and a rough wave would appear from nowhere to bring down the drone from below. Fly too high and the drone would be forced up into the roof of the cave by the pressure from the waves. Despite all these challenges, we flew the drone and captured some fantastic footage of the cave at its worse and the raw nature of the moment.

Sensing the weather was closing, Mark advised us to call it a day before the fast-approaching storm hit us hard. Making a difficult and rapid exit we made our way back to the Birthe Marie and set off back to Iona. In the short time since we had been on the island, it was surprising how rough the sea had become. The Birthe Marie carved her way through the waves as only a vessel of her classical design could.

Those shipbuilders who laid her keel nearly a century ago certainly knew their craft and her elegant lines ploughed on through the heavy sea. Even so, the sea tried its best to test her. With the swell coming in from all angles, it bowled the occasional giant at us which would break over the decks and scatter anything not lashed down.

After an abnormally long crossing with three meter high waves, we landed on Iona and unloaded our equipment for the last time. Saying farewell to Mark and Stewart, and the Bethe Marie we hastily made our way to our van and off to catch the ferry.

Embarking onto the Mull to Oban ferry we could see the Cal Mac crew lashing everything down for the crossing. Short as it was, it was still pretty bumpy. As we departed our ferry we were informed that all further crossings for 24 hrs had been cancelled. We were on the last boat from Mull, escaping just before the storm hit in its full fury and our timing had been faultless. We didn't know at the time but it was just the first storm of many in the relentless battering the UK was to receive that year.

Our mission had not been impossible, but it had been extremely challenging and highly ambitious but we had successful accomplished it. To capture the pure essence of what Felix Mendelssohn had witnessed in Fingal's Cave with a drone had been groundbreaking.

Arriving back at the Aerialworx HQ we had barely enough time to unpack and check our equipment before the phone rang... Another mission? Can we fly a drone from a small fishing boat in the middle of the Atlantic with waves of up to six meters and film a fleet of rowing boats crossing the Atlantic? That wasn't Mission Impossible, that was just Mission Difficult... but that's another story!

www.aerialworx.co.uk/project/drone-filming-fingals-cave-staffa/