A big adventure on a wee ship in Scotland’s Inner Hebrides | Canada Voices

“Look, another rainbow,” I say, pointing out one of the side portholes of our small ship to a perfect striped arc crossing water and sky.

My husband responds with a mock snore.

Rainbows are common in the Hebrides, where weather shifts dramatically – rain and sun appear and disappear in quick succession, making for moody skies accentuated by often dark clouds. The captain once saw 18 rainbows in a single afternoon.

When I booked my small ship adventure, I was hoping for just that – endless rainbows. My husband and I would be two of only six passengers aboard the Gemini Explorer, a 72-foot ship used as a cruising lifeboat in the 1970s. Operated by St. Hilda Sea Adventures, this family-run business offers cruises through the Hebrides, an archipelago of 50 inhabited islands off Scotland’s west coast: 35 are in the Inner Hebrides (closer to the mainland) and 15 in the Outer Hebrides.

Exploring Greenland on a luxury icebreaker that mixes science and swish comforts

Our six-night “Isle of Mull and Small Isles Explorer” cruise was to be in the Inner Hebrides. I had been enticed by photos of rugged mountains, purple heather, wildflowers and green grass, their colours saturated from frequent rain. We would cruise by day, stopping to hike and explore different islands each day, and anchor at night. As someone who loves islands and water, this small ship – far from the “floating city” concept of big-ship cruising – seemed ideal.

But as the departure approached, so too did my apprehension. Only four other passengers? Would we get along? Would we be stuck indoors every day with non-stop rain? (The forecast had promised rain every day, one day as much as 43 mm.) Would I get seasick? And would Rick and I be bumping our heads on the ceiling of our cabin, blowing kisses goodnight from our single berths?

Turns out, my worries were ill-founded. By the time we boarded at Dunstaffnage Marina near Oban, we were already laughing with our fellow passengers – three British women and a man from Dallas, all retired – a vicar, language teacher, banker, speech therapist and my husband, a psychotherapist.

Despite different backgrounds, we shared much in common. Everyone seemed to enjoy hanging out in the saloon together, a cozy hub for reading, chatting and playing Uno and Scrabble. We all appreciated a wee tipple of scotch or wine at the end of each day. And we all had an uncanny ability to polish off our plates at every meal. Our chef Sophie Ferguson was a culinary Houdini – serving dishes such as braised lamb shoulder with whipped feta at one dinner, prawns with orzo for another. Our first afternoon tea featured warm homemade scones with jam and Devonshire cream.

And while it rained often, Captain Christophe Linsale, St. Hilda’s co-owner, adeptly shifted course as needed. An engineer by training, he was as calm as the seas could be rough, craftily guiding us into quiet lochs and around high waves. I took an anti-nausea pill just once, then comfortably watched the seas roll by.

And the cabins, although compact, were well-equipped and comfortable. Ours had a private en suite bathroom (with a shower and toilet with an eight-step toilet flush that I quickly mastered), reading lights, under-bed storage space and a porthole for fresh air.

The wildlife was another highlight.

“Did you see the minke whale?” yelled Sophie as she raced out the door onto the front deck one morning, her floral apron still on. We dropped books and Kindles and rushed out after her to witness a black fin slicing through water. But what stole the show were the dolphins. On one occasion, two playfully soared, jumped and dove in and out of the bow’s wake, their pleasure contagious.

But the excursions were the trip’s heart. On Eigg, an island run almost exclusively on renewable energy, we wandered along a deserted road to Singing Sands beach – the high ride of a Sgurr peak in the distance. On the diamond-shaped Isle of Rum, we hiked past an open beehive-like shelter, an honesty shop and a campsite that included ecocabins where you can gaze out on the sea. We also explored around the abandoned Kingloch Castle, apparently accepting offers above £750,000 (about $1,400,000).

We also visited Knoydart peninsula, which – though part of the mainland – is only accessible by boat (or an arduous 29-km hike). We passed a totem pole designed by schoolchildren, then later toasted our hike at the Old Forge, billed as the most remote pub in mainland Britain.

This Canadian-owned Turks and Caicos resort makes for the perfect escape from reality

On the Isle of Skye, our hike ended at Armadale Castle, where we wandering through its pretty gardens and learnt about Scotland’s powerful Clan Donald at its museum. Our final island stop was Mull, and the pretty town of Tobermory on the island’s northeast coast, with multicoloured hotels and shops, a distillery, pubs and alas, other tourists, marking our gradual re-entry into civilization.

But before we left, I saw one last rainbow – a perfect oval bridging water and sky. Here in the Hebrides, I really did find my place under a rainbow.

If you go

Cruises leave from Dunstaffnage Marina, which is about a five-kilometre taxi ride north of Oban. You can reach Oban by train from Glasgow in just over three hours – or in just over four if coming from Edinburgh.

Be sure to pack waterproof pants and jacket, hiking shoes and a pair of clean shoes to wear onboard, midge repellent, sunscreen and anti-nausea medication.

St. Hilda Sea Adventures offers cruises aboard four vessels, including the Gemini Explorer, which operate April to October. In 2026, prices range from £1,000 to £3,800 per person depending on cruise length (they run for five to 10 nights) and vessel (the St. Hilda being the least expensive of the four).

The writer was a guest of St. Hilda Sea Adventures, which did not review or approve this article before publication.