BRITAIN’S SMALLEST, NEWEST POSSESSION

Press, Volume XCVIII, Issue 28980, 22 August 1959, Page 10

BRITAIN’S SMALLEST, NEWEST POSSESSION

Rockall A Solitary North Atlantic Islet

[Specially written for “The Press” by DAVID CAFFIN)

■BRITAIN’S newest and smallest possession, Rockall, a strange, solitary rock, far out in the North Atlantic, which was annexed only four years ago, has had few visitors since it was first charted four centuries ago. For hundreds of years, the seas have menaced this rocky, wind-swept islet, and the guillemots have rested almost totally undisturbed.

Nobody would visit Rockall in search of pleasure, for it is nothing more than a mass of rock, thrusting itself out of the sea, not more than 70ft high and 250 ft in circumference. In winter the waves wash over its summit, and at its base, treacherous reefs make landings difficult and dangerous. There have been only five landings since, 1811, and landing parties have had no desire to outstay their welcome.

The name Rockall has been made familiar to millions of British radio listeners through the references in 8.8. C. weather forecasts to Bailey, Rockall and Shannon, but has appeared in the news only at rare intervals. The last time was in 1955, when a party from H.M.S. Vidal annexed the islet for Great Britain, bolting and cementing a metal plaque (engraved with details of the annexation) on to the rock and hoisting the Union Jack on a tripod flagstaff. This month, the Royal Navy made its third landing on Rockall, and has presented the world with a mystery to add to the history of the island. Officers and men of the destroyer Cavendish were surprised to find no trace of the plaque, and that only one leg of the tripod was still standing. No explanation can be found as to why the plaque should be missing, and even the Admiralty is at a loss, although it has admitted that souvenir hunters seem unlikely. Lonely, Remote Unlikely indeed! Rockall is perhaps the most lonely and the most remote of all European islands, for the nearest land is the group of isles of St. Kilda, themselves uninhabited, lying 191 miles to the east. Somewhat like a haystack in shape, with twin peaks covered in guano, Rockall is the highest point of a great mountain range engulfed by the Atlantic, 150 miles in length, running from north to south. Geologically it is part of the North American rather than the European land mass, being composed of a three-mineral, granite quartz rock, called rockallite. According to an aerial survey made in 1947

few birds, with the exception of guillemots, nest there, and there are no other signs of life. The islet has an evil reputation. It is known to Breton sailors as “Men Caor” (rock of the devil), and a whole history of shipwreck surrounds its name. For, rising as it does at so great a distance from land, it is a constant menace to shipping. Its most notorious shipwreck occurred in the early 1900’s, when the Norwegian liner Norge struck the reef and foundered with the loss of 600 lives. First Landing The first landing on Rockall took place in 1811, when a party from H.M.S. Endymion, under Lieutenant Basil Hall, landed without difficulty (which is surprising considering the great difficulties encountered by later parties). Lieutenant Hall relates how the rock was first mistaken for a ship; the lookout taking the two guano-covered peaks of the islet for the royals and courses of a brig. The Endymion gave chase, and on discovering their mistake, in Lieutenant Hall’s own words: “As we had nothing better on our hands, it was resolved to make an exploring expedition to visit this little islet.” The party spent some time on the rock, taking observations to determine its position and size, collecting geological specimens, and attempting to measure its girth with the aid of a piece of cord. While they were still on the rock, a thick fog sprang up, the party lost sight of their ship, and an alarming hour was spent in trying to locate her again. Luckily the fog dissipated almost as quickly as it had arisen, and the whole group was taken off safe and sound. Little is known about the landing of 1862. In 1896, the

treacherous seas of Rockall were too much for a scientific expedition, sponsored by the Royal Irish Academy, which made two unsuccessful attempts. Rockall was to remain undisturbed for 25 years.

Jean Charcot, the noted French scientist and navigator, had always been fascinated by this sinister island, and in 1921 he was given the opportunity of satisfying his long-felt desire to visit Rockall. He gives a most striking description of the rock: "This doublepointed helmet, 65 feet high, was probably the summit of a mountain several thousand feet high. Its dazzling crown of eternal snows has been replaced by a covering of guano.” Scientific Problem Charcot had been sent to elucidate a scientific problem, for French geologists bad been greatly interested by specimens of a special rock brought back from the island more than a century before by the Endymion. This rock contained neither limestone nor potassium, but was comparable to the “fasibilikite” of Madagascar. The problem put to Charcot, was whether “rockallite” also contained encolite. In spite of rough seas, two parties landed from the Pourquoi Pas, but neither party was able to reach the summit. They did accomplish their mission, however, and on examination it was proved that the famous “rockallite” was but the most easily detachable mineral element, and that the whole islet was composed of a much more commonplace rock—granite. As Charcot put it: “Rockallite is the beauty-spot on Rockall’s face.” The next visit to Rockall was in 1947, when the rock was surveyed from the air, mainly to observe the bird life there. It was discovered that only guillemots nested there, and kittiwakes were observed resting but not breeding. Two years later, James Fisher, the noted authority on sea birds, and H. G. Hasler sailed to Rockall in the yacht Petula, but were unable to land. In 1955, when it was decided to establish a guided-missiles range in the Hebrides, it was found that Rockall was likely to be within the range’s orbit It was considered necessary to annex the islet formally, so as to eliminate possible embarrassing counterclaims once the missiles project was under way. Under international law, Rockall was held to be terra nullius—that is to say, it belonged to nobody—and therefore H.M.S. Vidal, a survey ship, was sent to claim the island for the, Crown. H.M.S. Vidal, under the command of Commander Connell, reached Rockall on September 17, 1955, and next day, a party of four was landed on the rock by helicopter and winch. The first to land were two cliff-climbing instructors of the Royal Marine Commandos, who had had extensive practice on a rock on Devon's coast, closely resembling Rockall. These two, once landed, erected the flagstaff and cemented the plaque to the rock. The rest of the party, James Fisher (who had at last attained his objective) and Lieutenant-Commander Scott, followed. 21-Gun Salute When all was ready, LieutenantCommander Scott radioed the Vidal, and the whole party stood to attention as he raised the Union Flag and said: “In the name of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second, I hereby take possession of this island of Rockall.” The Vidal then closed on Rockall and steamed slowly past with her crew standing to attention on the upper deck, and fired a salute of 21 guns. The members of the party remained on the rock for another hour and a half, collecting specimens of rock, algae and lichens, and were then taken back to the ship by helicopter, leaving the rock to the birds, with the Union Flag, looking very lonely, fluttering in the breeze. Rockall may yet have more visitors. Although the plaque has disappeared and the flag is down, the rock still belongs to Britain. It will not be surprising then, if within the next few months, Rockall is once again in the news, with a report of the Royal Navy’s landing a fourth time, in order to attach a new plaque and re-hoist the flag.