Experience the myths and magic of a British Isles cruise

Mythical creatures from fairies to kelpies are behind the British Isles’ savage waves, seething whirlpools and crags shrouded in mist – at least if old folk tales are to be believed.

Intrigued, I delved deeper into local legends while sailing aboard Fred Olsen Cruise Line’s Borealis.

Departing from Dover, its 'Wildlife and Landscapes of the British Isles' voyage took me north to my Scottish homeland, calling at the Outer Hebrides, the Isle of Skye and Orkney along the way.

CIDER AND SUPERSTITION IN THE BAILIWICK

Our first stop, however, was the proudly self- governing bailiwick of Guernsey, a British crown dependency that’s closer to northern France than it is to the UK.

The isle has ghostly canines and unfriendly fairies in spades, according to our tour guide, Jo. “Look,” she said, pointing at someone’s front door. “Another set of magic marks. You can tell that the owner is taking no chances, because the purpose of these marks is to ward off witches and evil spirits.”

There’s no doubt that folklore has been a large part of Guernsey life for centuries but I hadn’t realised that cider, too, has played its part.

A scenic island drive included a visit to the organic Rocquette Cider Farm, deep in the Fauxquets Valley, and after an informative orchard tour I sampled some sensational ciders, fruit liqueurs and a variety of hale-and-hearty local cheeses.

MONKS, STAR WARS AND CLASSY CARPETS

Borealis sailed west overnight across the boundless wilderness of the Celtic Sea. Next morning the Skellig Islands, off Ireland’s west coast, hove into view.

A chorus of oohs, aahs and camera clicks greeted the sight of the magnificent rock formation known as Skellig Michael, with its seventh-century Unesco-listed St Fionan’s monastery. If that’s too historical for some, the island has a more recent claim to fame as Luke Skywalker’s sanctuary in one of the Star Wars films.

We headed north to Killybegs, a town in County Donegal that’s rich in Celtic heritage and famous for maritime culture.

It’s also home to the world’s largest hand-knotted loom, at Donegal Carpets’ former factory, which back in the day turned out weaves to grace the floors of some of the world’s most prestigious buildings including Buckingham Palace and the White House.

Carpets weren’t on my agenda but something quite different was: a demonstration sheepdog trial. After travelling 30km west along the Wild Atlantic Way, I reached Malinbeg village and the working farm Away to Me – the name translates as ‘go right’ in the world of sheepdogs.

The wonderful bond between man and beast was plain to see and I enjoyed an hour or so with the clever, friendly dogs as they were put through their paces.

MARITIME TRADITION

I had joined the 10-deck Borealis in Dover a couple of days earlier.

When Fred Olsen acquired the ship from another operator, it replaced the casino with a lounge. But generally speaking the line is cautious of making changes, keeping a strong sense of British maritime tradition by retaining things like captain’s cocktail parties, dance hosts and set dining times – all harking back to cruising’s golden age and all appreciated by its overwhelmingly British guests.

Fred Olsen’s ships are also geared to the over-50s market – although one or two children were on board during my voyage – so you won’t find games arcades or climbing walls.

There is, however, a busy daily programme that allows guests to get stuck into a whirl of activities including crafts and carpet bowls, yoga and painting classes.

Brush in hand, I met fellow guest Norma at one of the latter. A confirmed Fred fan, she was on her tenth cruise with husband Ben. “We take advantage of as many activities as possible when we’re here,” she said. “And I always book myself into the spa as a treat before going home again.”

BLUE MEN OF THE MINCH

After another overnight sailing we passed the Gulf of Corryvreckan, a strait between the isles of Jura and Scarba known for its hazardous whirlpool.

This tidal phenomenon is named after Cailleach, the old hag of winter, who stirs up the water to wash her shawl.

We docked further north in Stornoway, the capital of Lewis and Harris, which is famed worldwide for Harris Tweed – the only fabric protected by an Act of Parliament.

Scottish islands abound with fishy tales of mermaids and mysterious ‘storm kelpies’ or ‘blue men of the Minch’ who roam the stretch of sea between the Outer Hebrides and the mainland.

Our tour guide, Maggie, explained, “Dismiss them as imaginary at your peril, because we locals know these mythical creatures can wreak serious havoc, not least raising storms and churning the waves.”

If there was a twinkle in her eye as she spoke, I didn’t see it.

I didn’t spot any Cailleachs or storm kelpies, either, but I enjoyed a feast of local culture at An Taigh Ceilidh, Stornoway’s not-for-profit Gaelic centre and community café.

After listening to local musicians and storytellers I met director Charles Wilson, locally known as Tearlach – the Gaelic version of Charles. “My aim is to build a gathering place where the Gaelic community celebrate their heritage and where learners can be immersed in the language and customs,” he explained.

The centre also offers 10 per cent off hot drinks if you order in Gaelic, and staff are not averse to helping if you struggle with your attempt.

Back on board, I chatted with folks from marine conservation charity ORCA, which works with Fred Olsen to collect scientific data on whales, dolphins and porpoises.

“It’s a great day to be a dolphin- counter,” said one. “There are masses out there, including bottle-nosed and Risso’s, and earlier a couple of minke whales made a fleeting appearance.” When a team member spots wildlife, they give a commentary over the PA system, telling guests where to look.

FAIRY POOLS AND WATERFALLS

As the song says, next it was time to go over the sea to Skye, the ‘misty isle’ awash with drama in the shape of the Cuillin mountains, soaring sea cliffs and stunning waterfalls in the Fairy Pools area.

Under whisky-coloured skies I headed off to explore Dunvegan Castle, stronghold of the chiefs of Clan MacLeod for nearly 800 years.

Remnants of a flag hang inside, and guide Mhairi explained: “This sacred seventh-century banner was believed to bring success to the chief or clan if unfurled in an emergency.”

All good, though the downside is that the charm only works three times and has already been used twice to secure MacLeod victories in battle. The upside is that there’s little chance of a battle breaking out these days.

There’s so much to see in this glorious part of Scotland, and an embarrassment of history to mull over.

But time marches on, and after another overnight northward sailing we arrived in our last port of call, Kirkwall, the capital of the virtually treeless archipelago of the Orkney Islands and somewhere else that embraces history with relish.

WHISPERS OF THE PAST

The first thing to know about Orkney is never to refer to it as ‘The Orkneys’. It is ‘Orkney’ or the ‘Orkney Islands’.

After getting that out of the way thanks to our guide, we set off for the Italian Chapel. It’s a poignant symbol of peace constructed by Italian prisoners during the Second World War using basic materials – not that you’d know it when you’re admiring the fresco stretching across the ceiling.

Alongside it are the Churchill Barriers, a series of concrete causeways built to close off the eastern side of Scapa Flow, the Royal Navy’s northern base during the First World War.

You can’t really avoid the past amid Orkney’s mystical landscape, and fittingly we also visited the Fossil and Heritage Centre. Its tenaciously preserved geological collection stretches back 350 million years and includes ghost-like remains of local creatures – quite the eye-opener.

All too soon it was time to say goodbye – or cheerio as we Scots prefer – to the chunk of perfection that is Orkney. Turning south, Borealis set sail once again, this time to carry us across the North Sea back to Dover.