Bass Rock: The Eighth Wonder of the Natural World?

Day 1: The Motorway Crawl to Bempton Cliffs

We set off on a Friday afternoon — a brave, if not entirely wise, choice. The M5 was a parade of brake lights, despair, and McDonald’s regret. The kind of journey where you question every life decision that led to you sitting in a car, inching forward, clutching a lukewarm coffee that tastes like defeat.

Amid the motorway slog, my phone was glued to the BBC Weather app, checking the forecast for the weekend. Rain and 20mph winds were predicted for Sunday — the big boat day. Not exactly ideal conditions for a choppy sea crossing to a guano-coated island. But hey, optimism was in full supply.

After what felt like a lifetime of stop-start traffic, we finally rolled into Bempton Cliffs just in time for the golden hour. The cliffs were alive with the sharp cries of gannets, razorbills, and fulmars. The low sun set the white cliffs aglow, casting perfect light on these airborne acrobats.

No puffins were in sight — but who needs puffins when gannets are doing barrel rolls and diving like feathered missiles? The salty sea air mingled with the unmistakable “aroma” of the colony, a smell that’s oddly part nature, part eau de adventure.

All the while, I kept sneaking glances at the weather apps. Friday evening looked promising — calm, clear skies. But Sunday’s forecast hovered like a dark cloud, reminding me to keep my fingers crossed.

Day 2: Bempton Sunrise and the Yorkshire Moors Traffic Jam

Up before dawn on Saturday, we returned to Bempton for sunrise. The birds were up earlier than us, screeching and wheeling above the cliffs in the soft morning light.

After soaking it all in, we hit the road again, this time heading north toward Scotland. Our journey took a detour into the Yorkshire Moors, where a lone cyclist leading a horsebox created a proper tailback, turning our motorway misery into a quaint countryside traffic jam.

The moorland scenery was a stark, beautiful contrast to the motorway grind — rolling hills, heather, and sheep giving us the side-eye.

Checking the BBC Weather app and a couple of other sources became a bit of a ritual — each forecast slightly different, but the consensus was the same: Sunday was shaping up to be windy and wet. Nerves started creeping in. A reassuring call to the organisers confirmed the trip was on, still dubious of an impending cancellation we continued the journey north.

Day 3: The Bass Rock Boat Trip

Sunday dawned early — 4am early. The weather forecast was grim: 20mph winds and rain. But a reassuring call from the organisers confirmed the trip was on.

We left the hotel under golden skies, arriving at North Berwick harbour for our 6am safety briefing with Maggie and Pete, our guides for the day.

The boat was a semi-inflatable RIB, fast and bumpy, soaking us with cold spray as we sped across the calm sea. Bass Rock loomed larger by the minute — a jagged white fortress teeming with more than 150,000 gannets.

Disembarking required a leap of faith onto the rock, where I was swiftly christened by a gannet — a certainty for any wildlife photographer.

Photographing Bass Rock: Chaos, Cameras, and Choices

Stepping onto Bass Rock felt like entering a wildlife photographer’s dream — and nightmare — all at once.

With my Nikon Z9 mounted to a 300mm f/2.8, and a Z6ii loaded with everything from a 16-35mm wide-angle to a 70-200mm zoom in the bag, I was spoiled for choice. Honestly, I was a little overwhelmed. Do you start with epic sweeping landscapes or dive into intimate close-ups of the frenzied bird life? Wide-angle to capture the soaring cliffs and sea? Or zoom in tight on the dramatic gannet behaviors?

Time to pause!

I left the camera in the bag for the first 20 minutes — just to pause, think, and really see. To take it all in without the viewfinder between me and the wild chaos of Bass Rock. Sometimes you need that moment to consider where to start before the shutter even clicks.

My instinct was to start broad, framing the enormous white cliffs draped with thousands of gannets, their bodies almost glowing against the grey stone. The 24-70mm f/4 on the Z6ii was perfect for those sweeping landscapes — the kind that make you feel the scale and raw power of the place.

But the real magic was in the details. The 300mm f/2.8 on the Z9 was a beast — fast, sharp, and steady — letting me freeze gannets mid-dive, their wings outstretched, feathers ruffled by the sea breeze. From wide shots to mid-range portraits, I shifted lenses, hunting for moments: a clumsy landing, a fierce stare-down, or a parent turning an egg.

I switched to slower shutter speeds to blur the subject and the background giving the chaos a sense of graceful motion. It’s a great way to show not just the birds themselves, but the wild energy swirling all around them

I kept moving, adjusting angles, balancing the overwhelming noise and chaos of the colony with moments of calm and beauty. The constant motion of birds flying, landing, and calling demanded attention and fast reflexes. It was photography on the edge — thrilling, exhausting, and utterly rewarding.

By the end of the day, I had everything from sweeping seascapes to intimate bird portraits, each frame telling part of the story of Bass Rock’s wild, messy, and magnificent life.

The island was a sensory overload: deafening squawks, crashing wings, and the occasional awkward gannet landing right behind you. Despite the reputation, the smell was less offensive than expected, thanks to a steady breeze.

Our guides were fantastic guides (special thanks to Maggie and Pete), full of knowledge and humour, ensuring no one got left behind or lost in the chaos of flapping wings.

The Journey Home

The boat ride back was calmer, the sun warming our salt-streaked faces. Back on land, we stopped at Cedar Café (a recommendation for the future) for a much-needed breakfast — far superior to motorway fast food and perfectly timed to reflect on the weekend’s wild adventure.

So, Is Bass Rock the Eighth Wonder?

Absolutely

It’s raw, loud, messy, beautiful, and unlike anywhere else in the UK.

Would I do it again?

In a heartbeat. Just maybe leaving a bit earlier to avoid motorway traffic next time.

Dedicated gallery to follow, when i get round to doing all the edits.