Waiting for the tide
We’ll be sailing with the tides. Oh, the imagery. Oh, the history. Oh, the reality, for those that live in maritime regions. The moon is really the one in control of transportation, at least where water is in play. Consider the fate of the Fundy fisher.
Here in Quebec City, we have a tidal range that runs to several metres, and when we hit those extremes of spring and autumn, the ferry almost ties up to the top of the wharf. Just saying.
Certain coastal ferries have to play the tides to leave port; even in this new millennium, the sea has its own set of rules. Imagine the glee of travellers when airplanes discovered airports. Flat expanses of concrete and tarmac, immune to a clock that runs oddly. No more waiting for the tides to change. Constance in transport.
Well, today while searching for something completely unrelated, I happened across photos from the only commercial airport in the world that depends on tide tables. No seaplanes here. Planes in the sea, maybe. On the island of Barra, in the Hebrides, the connection by air to Edinburgh (or Glasgow, or other important cities) depends on the state of the shoreline. Here’s a couple of photos, borrowed from Wiki.
At low tide, when the wind is right, “a De Havilland Twin Otter of Loganair connects Barra with Glasgow and Benbecula“. Seriously. I looked it up on the British Airways website, and found that for about 200 pounds sterling, including taxes and fuel surcharge, I could get a quick puddle jumper (OK, actual ocean jumper) into a lovely beachside community. I’m enthralled.
For those who want more, here’s a landing video from the gang over at YouTube. The necessary Google Map link, for further dreaming. And Rock Barra, on my Island, gets its name from here.
