June 16 HAPPY BIRTHDAY BETSY a bit belated (14)
A really full time. I haven't written anything for five days. And my “remember-er” doesn't work very well any more, especially since we are moving so fast. We find ourselves saying, “What town was that?” So here goes. Tuesday through Saturday.
North over the border we go, off to Dumfries and nearby Alloway to see Rrrrrobbie Burrrrns birth place. What? You don't know who Robbie Burns is? Then you are not a Scot or Canadian or friends of ours! He is the Scottish National Poet who decided that he would write for the people and kept the old Scottish dialect, which is very hard to understand for most of us. You might have heard someone say that they had attended a Burns Night. Well, we often held Burns Nights at our home. We would eat the foods that the Old Scots would eat...from the land. Root vegetables, potatoes (tatties), mashed turnips (neaps) etc.... and haggis. I grew up with haggis and I am crazy for it! But most of our guests do not know what they are in for. They conger up all kinds of beasts in their imaginations and some are quite fearful when they arrive (huh, Lew). If we are lucky we have a bag piper at our meal, who comes dressed in a kilt and all that goes with it. David cooks the haggis then hides it on a large silver tray with a covering. No one gets to peek. He forms a parade of all our guests, with the piper marching loud and clear behind him...the guests following. We wander the house and around the table until we have had enough!...then the platter gets put at the head of the table and another participant recites Robbie's poem, Ode to a Haggis. When the right line comes up in the poem, the cover of the haggis gets ripped off and the round yummy bag of organ meats mixed with oats gets stabbed and torn asunder! There are screams! Caused by the pent up anticipation of just what a haggis might be....and we had to kill it at the table?! Throughout the meal we read more of Burn's poetry...and conclude with his song, Auld Lang Sine. So it was a treat to be immersed in his life. Statues of this handsome (puer eternus) man abound and a huge monument stands in the middle of park gardens. This town takes it to the “nth” degree. You walk to the thatched roof cottage of his birth, then to the “auld Kirk” (church) of his youth that is falling down and full of ghosts and which was the inspiration for his story poem, Tam O'Shanter. “Tam peeks through the windows of this creepy, ruined kirk one dark and stormy night and sees a gaggle of witches dancing to a tune played on the bagpipes by the Devil.” And it goes on from there! I did not find the church creepy but it was fun to imagine. Robert's father is buried by the kirk, and there is a fine tribute written on the back of the headstone by him to his father.
O Ye, whose cheek the tear of pity stains.
Draw near with pious reverence and attend!
Here lie the loving husband's dear remains,
The tender father, and the generous friend:
The pitying heart that felt for human wo!
The dauntless heart that feared no human pride!
The friend of man, to vice alone a foe,
“For ev'n his failings, leaned to virtue's side.
(just taken off my camera screen)
Maybe you have had enough of Robert Burns....well I just have to tell you one more thing, we walked to the Brig O'Doon (bridge over the Doon river), also featured in Tam O'Shanter. Beautiful arched stone bridge. I pretended that it was the bridge of Brigadoon, my favorite childhood musical. I walked only to the middle, fearing that if I went further, I might have to stay lost forever behind the mists in Brigadoon.
The next day we were in Irvine, where we wanted to see the Maritime Museum. The old part of this town is an old sea port village and at one time one of the busiest ports in Scotland. Boats big and small some in the water, some pulled to shore, ships hulls stripped and lying on land, others being freshly painted. Unfortunately, the main museum building was being restored and we could not enter but we saw a really good marine art exhibit and talked to someone who could explain what a Puffer was. It seems to be the pride of the port. These hardy steam freighters took supplies and people all over this area, which is quite like western Canada's coast (MV Uchuck lll). Long fingers of water (firths) penetrating into the land. Lots of water ways for folks to settle. The Puffers are about 80 feet long, pretty wide with a large deep hold as it's wheel house is at the stern. Also the ship's bottom is flat so they could deliver to many stops that did not have proper ports. They would go in on a high tide and wait for the tide to go out so they could unload or load on a dry beach. We walked the waterfront and met a fellow who was sitting on a bench cleaning his little doggy's face... quite sweet really. He himself was a rakish sort, unshaven, disheveled hair...a harbour man. We had a good talk and learned about his town. Isn't it wonderful how we can love the place we live in? We heard stories of ragamuffins (ghostly street girls) and about a particular ghost captain that only the women saw. We enjoyed the town art center where a class was going on. The teacher invited us to his studio where he painted really top notch portraits and seemed to have plenty of work. He introduced us to another artist in the same building who was also extremely good in the style she had chosen to pursue, simple faces and images done with good textures and colors. It is always interesting to talk to artists and see what they are up to.
Okay, let's have lunch. I am starved! We choose the Ship's Inn where the ghost captain hangs out. David has sheep liver with onion and raisin gravy and, guess what, I have haggis with tatties and neaps! We are both happy with our choices. I did not see the captain.
A six pm sailing to the island of Arran, a place we have to go to because everyone tells us so. The ferry has a pointed bow and a flat stern but both have what it takes to load and unload cars. The ride is about 45 minutes, the weather is beautiful. It is Wednesday evening. We land at Brodick, a typical ferry-landing town. A good one. We have time to snoop around a bit because it is not dark here until 11:30. We find a little stone breakwater with room to park in the trees and grass beside it. Why is this place here? Ahhh. We slowly figure it out. There is a small opening big enough for a row boat to enter, maybe from a bigger ship in the harbour. This barrier keeps the sea calm for the passengers to disembark on to the stone stairs. I bet a horse and carriage waited for the passengers. With a bit more exploring across the road, we find these words on an old stone gate. KING EDWARD AND QUEEN ALEXANDRA FIRST STEPPED ON SCOTTISH SOIL HERE. That would be Edward the Vll. Now it is beginning to make sense. There is a castle above us. Not a royal castle but that of the Dukes of Hamilton. But they did have royal visitors, not only from England but also from Monaco. We visited the castle the next day and got all the “low down”. What a great island this is! It looks like the Gulf or San Juan Islands, so familiar that it is a bit strange. We could be at home. It is about the size of Bainbridge Island in Washington State. But with a population of 4,500. Half of the island is lowlands and the other is mountains, climbable hiking mountains. There is a road all the way around next to the sea, and two cross island routes, villages spotted here and there along the way. A few galleries to snoop around in. Lots of spectacular views as we make our way. The weather today is just holding...sun then dark grey with black rain clouds always threatening. But we have tickets to the first night of the Arran Folk Festival. So in we go and there are tables set up and beer or hard liquor flowing...no food. Makes for a good loud semi-drunken fun fest! It is a lot of fun! The music is really good. Three different groups or singles on a stage set high so everyone in the room can see. The hall only holds about 150. Sascha, from Germany sits down beside us. He is on a three week vacation on his own, also in a VW van (Transporter) that he has set up with bed in the back. 34 years old and the camera person and partner in a Berlin company that makes documentaries. He is the perfect pal to enjoy the festival with. Lots of laughter and talk. He is more of a connoisseur on what is happening in the folk world today, often being a sound engineer for groups in his home town. The next day we start out to finish the rest of the island views and byways...with the intent to do some hiking but we have had a massive storm during the night that continues on into the day. Hard constant rain and heavy winds. We stop for an in-van picnic and Sascha drives up beside us. We stuff ourselves into our van around the table and pull out lunch. Sascha provides the sparkling tea from Germany. The rain has stopped for the most part so we decide to hike together to the “Kings Cave”. This is a cave that the Sottish King is supposed to have hid in, on a rocky exposed beach. The famous Robert the Bruce! Handsome, brawny and kilted with sword at side. We walked the trail about 3 miles, up then down and along the beach to several large caves, not knowing which cave was the famous one. But then we came to one that was gated in a very king-like manner, gated to protect the cave from vandals. But the gate was open wide. It was a cave that was large at the front with a hallway too thin and dark to entice us down it. There were old petroglyph type carvings on the wall...but there was too much grafiti covering the walls to decipher anything. As we walked into the darkness, the far side of the cave showed a large carved cross, painted yellow. It is hard to know if there was an original under this. Whomever added to it I am sure thought they were being helpful, that it would be much better with his additions. It really is a shame that some folks do not know to leave markings of history alone. As we walked back toward the car, making a loop, the wind and rain began again. We had just enough good weather to enjoy our time outdoors. By the parking area there were the remains of a hut circle, a structure used as a North West Native Indian long house would be...families in different areas with the fire pit in the middle and a hole in the roof. There were evidently many of these found scattered nearby. Why is this so exciting? Is it because the exposure to “what was” allows us to get close to the people who helped build humanity as we are now. All of these people, one group after another, building on the accomplishments of those before them. I hope we are able to “do them proud” and continue to build upon each others accomplishments to a good and happy ending on this earth. It gets harder and more complicated as we go.
Another evening at the Arran Folk Festival with Sascha. Wow! The performances are good but we are blown away by a group that seems folk-edgy to us. They know how to work together, use their instruments and their voices in a brand new way. I asked Sascha why this is called folk music. His thoughts were... because the beat was a traditional waltz beat, their instruments were “plugged in” folk instruments and because all their songs told a story. I will be looking to hear more of this type of folk music. We bought a CD of one of the other performers because he had written a song that seemed a good one for us to play on the road...maybe even sing along. Here it is...AS GOOD AS IT GETS, Jim Hunter
Awake in the dawn
Sunrise on the ocean
Our dreams sail away
Across this great sea.
I feel your heart
I know the yearning
We lie here so safe
In a lost reverie.
We rise and we fall
In one single motion
We hope and we dream
That we'll never forget
That this is just as good as it gets.
There is more to the song but the essence for us is that we are having an amazing time...Our daily encounters and adventures, and sharing this road together is “...just as good as it gets”.
In the morning, Saturday, we knock on Sascha's van door and wake him to say goodbye. It is sad. But we look forward to seeing him in Berlin. We travel to Oban today.
June 17 HAPPY BIRTHDAY DIANE!
We spend the morning in Oban. It is a nice town, and the port to catch ferries to the islands beyond, so it is busy and alive. We are there long enough to enjoy some shops and galleries and have a gigantic portion of fish and chips (with the compulsory green peas). We are catching the ferry to the Isle of Mull...45 minutes on a sea that throws us from side to side and sea water gushes through an opening and floods the deck where we are parked first in line. Not a pleasant ride. But we do arrive safely and elect to go to Tobermory. Now here is a town that is must for you travelers to Scotland. It is the most picturesque of them all. All the boats, fishing/ sailing/ motor yachts , they are all so colorful and sit on a fresh clear blue sea. And the shops around the harbourr are also painted brightly, in many colors. This is a town to spend some time in. We walk to the top of the hill which is the backdrop and where the churches and people live. Then back down on a steep foot path. It is Sunday and the stores are mostly closed by late day. But window browsing is fun too. In one of the shop windows I spy a book of interest. It's title: A VERY FINE CLASS OF IMMIGRANTS Prince Edward Island's Scottish Pioneers. That is something I need! My grandmother's people were those pioneers and I am on my way to visit the Scottish home that they left behind. Do you suppose I can find them in this book. So now I have to wait until the Tackle and Book shop opens in the morning. In the meantime we park for the night with other car campers and spend time with them, first a beer in the pub (they had a football/soccer game to watch) and then later in their caravan. Pretty plush inside, of course with much more room than we have. This couple is from Hanover, Germany. Their team won the game...and they cheered them on wearing the black, yellow and red of the flag of Germany...and celebrated by pouring us each a small glass of Scottish Drambuie. In the morning we go to the book store where I buy the last copy of the book. The first thing I do is look up Apple Cross and read a few lines just to quickly satisfy my curiosity. Yes, there it is! The MacKenzies were in the group of Selkirk settlers that settled in Prince Edward Island...1803. And more specifically, they settled in Flat River. So knowing that information to be true it will make my visit to their original home even more important to me. More on that when I get there.
This week, folks who belong to the MacLean clan come from all over the world to their annual gathering. There is still a chief of the clan who lives in a castle on Mull so this is quite a party for them. (As I write this I am aware of a friend who came here for that very gathering...Donna Simanton? Is that correct?) There are folks wandering around town in tartan scarves and kilts.
June 18 HAPPY 2nd BIRTHDAY LAWREN!
From Tobermory, we take a long and beautiful ride around the island to the little foot ferry at Fionphort. We are going to the island of Iona, on which shore Saint Columba came and first introduced Christianity to Scotland. It has an old history full of stories of the building of monasteries, nunneries, abbeys...the latter still stands as the community of Iona. The nunnery ruins are there and hold power still for its visitors. Friends, Fritz and Vivienne are on the island. 40 years ago, on a trip in a VW camper...they discovered Iona. It was there that the idea for Chinook Learning Community on Whidbey Island (Washington State) was born. It is Whidbey Institute now and many people have made their way to this center. Vivienne is the teacher of Celtic Spirituality. Iona is the “thin place” for her yearly retreats. They know David and I are coming but we have not been able to communicate successfully so I am not sure how to find them. We ask at the Post Office. We get directions but nobody is quite sure which cottage they are in. We ask a farmer at the end of the road and he says we have just past their place so we head back...and we do find them. We spend a few good hours together before the last ferry back to our van. Tonight we sit by an estuary, water entwined in green land masses, surrounded by mountains. Some tiny critters called midges have managed to sneak into the van. David is sleeping and it is time to join him.
In the morning, we watch a kestrel hunt for his food, gliding low across the land with lovely long graceful wings. We need to do laundry and take a shower so we head back to Tobermory where all the facilities are convenient. Some sail boaters are doing their laundry also...men from the US on a 10 day sail through these Scottish islands...4 men to a boat...nine big sailboats...36 sailors! It is an annual outing, each year something different. Tonight they are having their special dinner at the hotel on the main street. They file up from the docks in jackets and ties. What a great idea! In the evening we make our way to the top of town for a concert. The Fiddle Singers. Talented young women.
THOUGHTS and OBSERVATIONS:
>Here are some more playful names...Towns: Uckington, Butlers Bank, Wheelock, Lower Peover, Barber Booth, Woodhead, Windle Edge, Fox Up, Starbuck, Halt Whistle, Pottie, Fishnish, Small Holdings Pubs: Dog in the Lane, Stuffed Olive, The Fallow Deer, Bull and Dog, Prince of Wales Feathers, Cuckoo Brow, Owl and Pussycat. David suggests The Queens Hats and the Farmers Arms. Miscellaneous: Long Slow Road, Sugar Pit Lane, Bracegirdle, Americana Farm, Scapegoat Hill, Whitless Community.
>Almost every day we take a look at each others photos.
>On the side of a truck. WE DELIVER THE GOODS, NOT EXCUSES.
>It is so nice to see PUBLIC FOOT PATH signs everywhere instead of NO TRESPASSING. I heard this evening that in Scotland you can camp anywhere in a tent and be legal. Even in the middle of Standing Stones.
>In pagan times, going to the west meant death...like the sun setting.
>In an area of cairns, at one point the people cobbled or put stones on the circle, completely covering them. Was it to keep the power protected? Or was it to stifle it?
>Noriko, tell the Benmores that we saw the huge Benmore Estate holdings as we were driving the Isle of Mull.
>Yellow irises grow down to the edge of the sea. And we saw sheep on the rocky beach, some laying down with lambs and some pushing their noses through the seaweed.
>Bracken is the King of things that grow naturally here. Thick and healthy.
>After the big rain storms the hills are full of streams and waterfalls tumbling down to the creeks that rush into the sea. Isn't the natural water system that provides water to us a total miracle?!
June 20
Mull is so lovely that we decide, before we leave it, to finish the last coastal road. We get going late and decide to forget our usual cereal and have a real Scottish breakfast with black pudding (blood sausage). I can taste it! Ahhh but we are too late. No one is serving breakfast. It is about 10:30. We are forced to eat cereal. (David bought me a few thick slices and they are waiting in the refrigerator. Maybe tomorrow morning.) More of the same beauty... we stop at Calgary Bay which is a long sand beach backed by dunes and grasslands. The tide is out quite a ways. We follow a trail off to one side and it leads to a wall coming straight down the hill and at the bottom some kind of stone structure. We had noticed a castle-like home in the trees on the back hill and decide that the structure is another breakwater built just far enough out so boats could land when the tide is in. There is nothing these people couldn't do with stone. It seemed the answer for shelters, fences and breakwaters...and cobbling streets. On to another valley in the midst of mountains. Rain clouds hover, sun breaks through. The lighting is breathtaking...then the one lane road leads through grassy floored deciduous forests. This is where the Scottish Fairies dance...we announced! Now the terrain opens up to a few farms. FREE RANGE EGGS says a sign at the bottom of a farm road. Hey, we need eggs. So we pick up a six carton, all different colors (brown is the norm in the UK) and leave what ever amount we think is fair in a tin box. The surrounding hills are grass covered except for rock. You can see forever without the evergreen forests we are used to. Just spring leafy trees for accent. The scene makes one want to get out and walk up into them. A compass and an ordinance map is all you need to navigate. And the law of Scotland is that if you have a tent on your back you can pitch it anywhere! Paths lead through farmer's fields and they are legal to walk on also. What a place this is! When we have finished this last leg of road we go to Fishnish to catch a small ferry. It's a short crossing and we wander our way up to Fort William. Fort William reminds me of Canadian inland ski and climbing towns. It is full of folks both young and old that are coming in from or going out to do some trekking. Many use walking sticks, even the young men who are hiking in kilts, recreating the days of Rob Roy! It is a wonderful sight. We find a place to settle in for the night and set the alarm. Tomorrow we go on another steam train ride.
The steam train. It is absolutely full. Seven passenger cars. And tourist season hasn't even started! Return, it is 84 miles with some interesting things to see. We travel past a network of locks that go from sea to sea...I believe from Fort William to Inverness through the Great Glen. The part we see is called Neptune's Staircase. Seeing it from the train window entices us to visit it later. The next thing we see, and go over, is a high viaduct in a semi circle so that David is able to get some good shots of the train going over it by shooting from the last car. By the way, this is another Harry Potter movie scene. We stop in Mallaig and have an hour and a half to check out shops, walk the picturesque pier and have lunch before our return trip. Talking with our seat mates on the return trip makes the time speed by. A couple from the Netherlands. Traffic engineer and a mental health worker. They have brought their car to Scotland and are spending a month.
June 22
The weather is pretty good. We head up to Ben Nevis and beyond, just to take a look at the Nevis Range. We park at the end of the road at a trail head. A young man comes to talk to us, intrigued by the license plate (which is always a good conversation starter). He is a forester and a custom furniture maker...and loves the Scottish mountains. He saw them for the first time at age 18 and since then has been climbing all the mountains over 3,000 feet. They are called the Munros after the person who compiled the list. There are 284 of them! Phil has nine to go...he is 43. This day he is taking off to do two pretty easy ones that are close together and was hoping to finish the rest of the nine before he leaves the area. He said that he is tired of having this goal every time he takes a holiday...so the rush was on to reach the goal. After Phil leaves we get ready to hike to a waterfall. The trail is almost a waterfall in places...and very rocky. I really had to watch where I put my boot down. Finally it opens out to a lovely meadow and the waterfall is in front of you. We could have gone closer but the rain came and we were not prepared, so hurried back down as quickly as we could. A nice interlude. A chaffinch hopped on our rear view mirror to say goodbye, but I think really to ask for food. What a bright little guy. Pink-orange underparts. Tonight we are perched high above Loch Linnhe. The midges are banging on our windows...Let us in. Let us in!
THOUGHTS and OBSERVATIONS:
> In the 19th century, the Scots from the Highlands and Islands were forced from their homes. This was called the “clearances”. Often the villages would be set on fire. This is where “being fired” from your job comes from. (Not that any of you have!)
> Dominant flowers in these mountains: Saxifrage, which in Latin means...rock breaker. Lady's Mantel and Arctic Mouse-ear.
> We stopped at the Ben Nevis center and I read this on an information screen ...”As you gaze back down the glen, imagine what the Iron age dwellers would have seen: huge woodlands of pine, oak and birch filled with wolves, deer and boar.” Can you imagine that the wolves and the bore are gone....and most of the trees! LET THAT BE A LESSON UNTO US!
> In 1911, Henry Alexander drove his Model T to the top of Ben Nevis and managed to get it back down again in one piece. It is really rocky!
> Annual races are held to the top of Ben Nevis, 4.406 ft (Highest in the UK). It takes most fit walkers six to eight hours return. The record was made in 1984. 85 minutes and 34 seconds!
> Can someone give me some details on the Douglas Fir or the Scotch Pine? David Douglas. I know he took many seeds back to Scotland. Did he bring any to North America? Why is the Doug Fir named for him?
June 23
This morning we drove past several lakes and then over the bridge to Skye. A few days ago a young man told us that we must go along the route from Broadford to Elgol. And then Lonely Planet seconded it. It was stunning. The mountain range here is the Cuillin Hills, many of them being on the Munro list. Phil had told us that there is one mountain there that stops some climbers from reaching the goal because it has a tall stone pinnacle on the very top that must be ascended before one has conquered it. That means rock climbing. Scary I would think! Don't look down! He had just completed that climb a few weeks ago and said that there was a bit of a line-up waiting to do it...legs shaking, faces of fear. Well, of course we tried to locate that spire but there were cloudy mists covering the tops of the highest ones. We checked the map so we would be looking in the correct direction. The map indicated...Sgurr Dearg has aninaccessible pinnacle! That would certainly scare me into staying away from that climb. A road sign warned of HEAVY RAINS FORCASTED and that did happen but not for too long. Immediately the roads become rivers. Sunlight pierces the clouds in spots where the green turns bright yellow green contrasted by the shadow of grey green. The clouds remain dark and menacing in some areas and white mist in others. Sometimes a bright blue sky will show itself through a cloud hole. The lighting changes and changes. It is spectacular to view. A photographer's dream. There are the clear beautiful days that we all love....but there are these days of moving weather that are exciting. Tonight we are in Portree. We had dinner at THE ISLES INN and listened to some live traditional music. There are lots of folks here from off island, speaking many languages...German, Dutch, Chinese, Russian and more that I don't recognize. After Edinburgh, this island is the most popular tourist attraction.
THOUGHTS and OBSERVATIONS:
> On the forehead of a ratty old truck coming toward us were these works in large print....ONE LIFE – LIVE IT!
> A sign pointing to Hector's Bothy. Now what the heck is a bothy?
> Pam. I am using the spiral-bound note book you gave us when we had our first “What's next?” retreat. It is full of 5 months of notes and pasted cards and schedules and other little reminders.
> It has been a learning to drive one lane roads. There are places to pass and sometimes not. Everyone is so polite in taking care of each other, remaining aware and alert at all times. There are signs to tell you of an oncoming wide spot. PASSING PLACE. ALLOW OVERTAKING. And always there is a friendly wave to the oncoming car. When a car is coming toward you and you have a wide spot to pull into, you flick your headlights on and off twice to let them know that they should proceed.
> There was a spot along the road today where people had built hoo hahs.... or rock towers, balancing stone on stone. Two guys were just putting on the top rock when we stopped. A challenge, as it was a tall bar shape, but they did it. The area felt like a modern neolithic standing stone site.
> I had blood sausage for breakfast and haggis for dinner. Only my family will understand this to be a treat!
June 24
Today is Sunday. We have staked out a church. Free Church of Scotland in Portree. We think that means Presbyterian. That should be safe. Yikes! A shot to the past. No organ. No speaking when you enter church. The absolute minimum of decoration. All the woman are dressed for church, dresses and hats. Every woman had a hat on but me....I had jeans and hiking boots on and spiky hair!...and I just had to whisper to David in the uncomfortable silence. That probably did not go unnoticed. There were four men in a raised area just below the minister...as David said sort of like a judge and jury. No hymns except psalms in the back of the bible lead by one of the men in a good strong voice. The minister did give a good message. Though long! It was all worth experiencing. And the people were really nice to us. No coffee/chat hour. I found some Scottish yarn before we left town. A soft oatmeal color for a gift for a new baby we will visit when we reach Munich. I am busy working on hat and scarf for the big sister, Fanny. Now we are off to see more of Skye. We lunch/picnic in the van at Loch Bay, which has a lazy harbor view. The gallery here is good. There are so many active artists. It is hard not to buy...if you know us and our love for buying art! The van size has saved us from a purchase more than once. It is pleasant to travel in these long days of spring as there is no hurry to our plans. We have until dark at about 11:00. We are often too late for some things that close at 5:00 though. Today we go to Shilasdair, a dye house and exhibition of the wool process from the sheep to the finished product. There is a garden outside for some of the dye colors but some of the dyes have to be brought in as there are colors that cannot be made from local plants, lichen, seaweeds and other elements. The shop is luscious. Lovely yarns and many knit and woven garments. We had a few questions answered from the shop owner. Previously I had told you about some spotted brown, black and tan sheep with horns that were very unique, not only their color but that they had only black baby lambs. Well these sheep are called Jacobs. Their wool is good for making yarn. Their babies will turn the same color as they are. The next question...There are so many sheep. Do they all bring in an income? Cheese, yarn, meat? Answer: The farmers are subsidized to keep them on their land. The ones on Skye are only “good for the pot”. Their wool is not good for spinning. They are on the land to keep up a Scottish tradition. It is what everyone expects to see. I am glad they are there. I love those dear animals. Next we stop at a potter's studio. Lovely things that I would buy in a moment. David always goes for the mugs...he is trying to think of how we could have a mug rail in the van. As we drive to Uig where we catch the ferry to the Hebrides in the morning we discuss why there are not mountain goats or sheep on the high places, it seems a perfect spot for them. We pass a sign that says WATCH FOR FERREL GOATS.
June 25 HAPPY BIRTHDAY ELENA!
9:40 sailing from Uig to Lochmaddy on North Uist. It has been such a lovely day of different experiences. These islands seem quite barren as they are mostly rock, small lakes, grass and bogs. I think it is very powerful terrain. Solid, open to the wide ever changing sky. We spend time at the Art and Culture center. A fairly new building full of good exhibits, shop, open art studios and a cafe where we plugged into wifi. I also visited with Andy Mckinnon who I have been in touch with. I thought I might do something there with my rock-image paintings. Timing did not work for me but it was nice to have a talk. A really likeable person...came to make a film which he did and stayed. He has taken a canoe from one side of the island to the other by portaging from one lake to another. In the early years he lived in a fixed up farmer's storage trailer. I met another lady today who came here for awhile from Australia and worked as a nurse, she met a crofter, and stayed. I can see why. Under different circumstances I would stay too. These outer islands. It seems the best of island life. It captures me (As it did when I was here 30 years ago). Community closeness, strength of character..survivors...friendly, helpful. Basic. We visited the Information Center. We asked if there was any music going on tonight. Ahhhh. Yes. You can come to our choir practice. Here, let us sing a song for you. So Morag and Margaret sang to us in Gaelic after reciting the English words. We thought it sounded very much like the song SWIMMING TO THE OTHER SIDE. This song is called THE OCEAN'S CIRCLE (or Cearcall a' chuain)
We are all on an ocean,
steering a course through our lives,
sailing a dark boat, lost in the grip of the sea;
the wind is behind us,
the boat sails onwards,
and neither time nor tide
makes sense or meaning to us.
The sea is calm,
it is wild, it is wide,
it is beautiful, it is secret,
it is malicious, it is deep;
oh, but we, we are blind,
we have nothing but life-
raise the sail, lift the oar,
so that we can journey onwards.
I hope, I hope,
when the sun goes down,
that they'll see me steering westwards,
over to Uist on the circle;
oh, the ocean's circle,
it turns forever,
taking me to the fair machair of the west
where the day began.
(Machair is a flowery meadow, going west is going to the setting sun, to death where it all began. The Islands of Uist are the furthest west you can go.)
We walked a loop over the bog moors this evening. First to a large single circle of standing stones choked by heather and low bush. It seemed it was lined up from the entrance to the opposite side stones and the mountain beyond. On up to the top of the hill and then we could see a cairn beyond. We found it about 10 to 12 ft. high with a circumference of 25 to 30 ft. Quite substantial. The entrance was no longer safe but the roof or cap was still there and a corridor could be seen. The roof was covered/cobbled with smaller stones to make this large mound.
At 7:30 we arrived at the hall where the choir was to practice. We felt quite honored to be there. The music and words were Gaelic. The melodies, quite haunting interspersed with faster foot stomping ones. Choirs in general...a fulfilling group endeavor. First you stumble, then it comes together...a result of working with the other singers over time. Comrades in a goal. Then the best of friends. I miss JUST FRIENDS, our women's singing group in Spokane. We sang to Care facilities... hospitals at Christmas. Harmony. A few voices blending and when we get it right it can't be beat. So good for the soul.
When leaving the building I talked with a woman who said,”You've got a story to tell. Come for coffee.” We will.
And we did. The next day. We had lunch with Gloria and her sister-in-law at the Lobster Pot on the island of Berneray. Gloria is a nurse and used this skill in many ways in many places. She came from Australia to work for a while and married a crofter and stayed. They made their living through her nursing and he, by crofting and fishing. She runs a B&B now...and I bet it is a wonderful place to stay. I liked her company immediately. Anna sang to us a few times in a clear high voice...Cockles and mussels, alive alive oh....and when we left...May God be with you til we meet again. Sweet. Earlier that day we explored South Uist. At Lochboisdale we found a really good museum, telling the story visually, of the ways people lived, really not too long ago. I walked in to find a very large loom and on it was hanging a blanket that had been woven on it over 100 years ago. Wait! I have a blanket just like it at home! I always wondered where it came from and why I could not let go of it as it really did not fit any bed. It must have been my father's mother's blanket as her family came from this part of Scotland, the Highlands and Islands they are referred to. My blanket, I see now, has been woven in this manor, though the loom must have been smaller as the two narrower pieces have been hand sewn together. There is a pattern on each side of simple stripes. This one in front of me is blue stripes, my blanket in black, both on a natural buff color field. Not thick but very warm. I am so happy to have solved this mystery in such a way. We also take a long walk on a sand beach and loop back over the machair of grasses and wildflowers. It is time to head for the next ferry which will take us to the more northern island of Harris Lewis. As we drive, we note that the tide is far out, emptying each bay to sand only, where the imprint of tire marks shows twisting out of sight. We are in time for the last ferry of the day. This car ferry route is one to be remembered...a ride never experienced before and probably never again. The ship has a flat bottom which is a good thing because the water is so shallow we have to weave between many markers, red on our right green on our left, which changes after we have made it half way across, to green on the right and red on the left. There are also small rock islands to dodge. We have to trust that the captain has done this many times! What a treat is in store for us on Harris! We just have time before sunset to visit a medieval church, the finest of it's type in the Hebrides. It is quite small, a MacLeod stronghold where important clan members are buried on tombs with sculpted images of them on their backs, all seeming to have war -type garments on. The main MacLeod character, 8th chief, has a pointed arch behind , with symbols demonstrating what was important to him to him during his life. He was the fellow who commissioned this church. Mary MacLeod, a very famous bardess who wrote and collected the songs and poetry of the times is also buried here somewhere. At her request, she was buried face-down...”to keep her lie-telling mouth to underside”. Wandering in the graveyard I came across this headstone: IN LOVING MEMORY OF JOHN MACDONALD DROWNED THROUGH THE ICE 24TH JANUARY 1917 AGE 11 YEARS. From here we head to the west coast where we find thatched roof homes in perfect repair and new stone modern homes bermed into the hills. People still love that stone look, it is part of the landscape and remains that way in the look of their homes. Now the treat starts on this South Island of Harris... sand beach after sand beach which is buff colored except when the sun hits it and it becomes butter yellow. The water at its shore is a tropical blue-green. It is so clear that you can see everything under water. We did not expect this sight in this northern climate. It blows us away. The coast goes on like this for miles and miles. We can see a lone standing stone on a hill. We have heard that it is 3 meters tall so a walk to it is a must. We climb this sea-side hill on paths that lead through gates and then over broken fences...up then down a bit to the single stone. It has a powerful presence, alone and tall. Back down to the car we pass by a stripped sod patch. From the times when gardens were first planted here, because of little soil on top of the rock, strips of sod were taken up and turned over in the next row to form sort of a raised bed...this practice would look like paths between raised beds in long lines. Potatoes or maybe barley would be planted. You can still see this method used scattered amongst the hills and in many places you can see where it was used and grass has grown over it all. A breakfast of cereal in the car. We can't wait to see more! We are still on South Harris but the road breaks away from the amazing shore we are enjoying and heads over a high area of rock. Stone hills on which only heather and short grasses grow around, in and over the stone...like a thick skin. I have never seen so much stone, rounded and grey-white... all sizes from hills to pebbles. We are astounded at this terrain also. This part of the Hebrides is a must see. We are through this area and arrive at Tarbert, a ferry town. I have been here before and had experienced it as the poorest place I had ever been. Hotel ceiling plaster dropping, nothing on the store shelves. But, today it seems thriving. We head on to North Harris and then up into Lewis. (I do not know why the name of the island is split, but they treat it like two separate islands???) Another site of ancient stones awaits us.
THOUGHTS and OBSERVATIONS:
>The Free Scottish Church is very serious about keeping the Sabbath for the praise of God. In the northern Hebrides everything is closed on Sundays. We saw a sign on a children's playground that said REMEMBER TO KEEP THE SABBATH. I do remember when I was a child in Canada that everything was closed on Sundays. We actually enjoyed those days. After church we would often have a special dinner, maybe with friends invited...or, the best, we would go on a long picnic drive to the country or to visit cousins, always getting ice cream on the way home. It was a family day. I have to say it is was a good tradition.
>A tiny island in a lake was covered with wild magenta rhododendrons
>In some places the peat is 5 feet deep. Its main ingredient is the roots of the trees that used to cover this area.
>The wind blows. There are no trees. It makes a whirring sound against the solid hills.
>We often see sun rooms added to the homes. A welcomed warm place to escape to.
June 29
Our day began with a visit from a border collie out for a walk alone. He was more than happy to receive our rubs and scratchings and conversation and led the way on a short walk up the hill to see a stone circle and cairn. This site has not been scientifically accessed but a sign told us what experts suspect was there. It seems that this could have held a village in and around it. The largest stone circle was short and probably built to keep sheep inside. Inside this and attached to one edge was a small, but tall stone circle with what looked like a cairn that one could walk into, maybe with rooms, maybe for burials The stones seemed to line up facing North, which is different than most. If the experts turn out to be right, they think that this site could be very important. It always feels good to be in the stones when no one else is there. Getting in touch with the “vibrations” of the place is easier and more exciting. Below this circle, a small lake nestled, and in the middle the remains of a Dun, which was explained as a home of the most important family, the water surrounding it to give extra protection. We drove on up the island to the northern end, the Butt of Lewis. Getting a bit lost (the GPS does not do well out here) I ran into a community hall for some directions. The nicest Hebridean lady helped me out. I asked if she grew up here. “Oh yes, born, grew up and married, had babies. I have been here all my life and it is a wonderful place to live. I am a Gaelic speaker and so are my children and grandchildren.” The people here speak Gaelic all the time unless they need to speak “Scottish” and then that beautiful accent just tumbles out. This place of changing weather, rock and sod and heather covered hills, of clouds that change the light constantly, small villages lining the roads, plain houses, little or no gardens-maybe a few pots of flowers, small grocery stores with just the basics...how can this be a wonderful place to live? I don't know, but I have to agree. There is just something about it. We found our way to Europie. A village next to a most extraordinary beach and sand dunes. We wanted to take the coastal walk toward the lighthouse at the most northerly tip. I don't think I can explain the experience well enough so you will understand. We walked for five happy hours above the cliffs on spongy green ground on worn trails or none. Markers along the way helped us keep our barrings. We went from one exciting vista to another, sometimes looking straight down onto scary jagged rocks or tiny beaches tucked away without access.
At the start of the trail we came across a memorial. Two fishing boats with about twenty men got into trouble in a storm. Their boats capsized and all were drowned leaving behind wives and children who were made destitute with no income. The very hard part about this story is that all the families were watching helplessly. The waves were too large and the current too strong for them to be of help. One man hung to a piece of a boat for two hours, looking toward the gathered group on shore, wiping the salt spray from his eyes. The majority of the men were 21 to 26 years old with a few in their 50s and 60s. This was a hard memorial to read and take in, but we were standing above that very spot feeling the helplessness. Only one body washed in days later and he is buried by the memorial. A grave that represents them all. Men still fish these waters.
Along the way nesting birds would panic and scream; terns, black headed gulls, black and white oyster catchers and maybe even a golden eagle (which all eagles are here). Then there are always the sheep to talk to along the way. A wide expanse of land and sea and sky. The lighthouse was not white but red brick and was built by the grandfather and uncles of Robert Lewis Stevenson...who were the expert builders of lighthouses up and down the coast. The poet visited some with his father and perhaps it influenced his poetry. From here we took the single track road back to the village and the car for a much needed late lunch. Again we got lost on the way out of town, making a wrong turn. There were two ladies on a corner in the next town so we stopped and asked for directions. Well they were from Australia! What remarkable women. Not young. Dressed in crazy fun clothes and hats. A bus had just dropped them off and they were hungry with no cafes in sight....so we took them back to Europie where we knew there was a tea house. They had been traveling for 3 years!!! What stories they would have to tell. We got directions from the tea house owner and started out for Stornoway, the largest town on the islands. We found ourselves an overnight spot above a working harbour with a open long view. Maybe we will catch a ferry to the mainland from here.
June 30 and July 1
Stornaway reminds me of an early Halifax. It is a nice size, having everything one needs...probably the center of commerce for the islands. We find Jennifer's for hair cuts. Somehow she fits us in, gives us great cuts and only charges us $7. We have our tickets for the ferry to the mainland and walk a bit in the town, taking in a good exhibit at the arts center before getting into the ferry line for a 3 hour sail to Ullapool. We hunt for a spot to sleep which is a bit harder because the town is small and a very popular vacation destination...there are signs everywhere that say, NO OVERNIGHT PARKING. We find a good spot away from residential homes and settle in. I need to catch up with the blog so I set myself up for a few hours of writing. Part way through I lose everything I have written about Scotland! Nothing! Blank! Gone to the ethers and I am unable to retrieve. Panic and a sleepless night. It will be Monday before I can find help.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY CANADA! Today is a lazy day. I spend much of it in a local Inn at the bar plugged in to free WIFI. It is darkish and comfortable and I have a good white coffee. The employees are pleasant so I don't feel rushed. The clientel is quiet, no beer drinkers yet. David goes off to tour the biggest tall ship in the world that is anchored at the dock. It is from Norway. He attends a lecture and wanders the boat taking some great photographs of sailing gear. We get together at Chippy's for a big fresh fish and chip lunch/dinner. This is another really great town. A livable one. Lots going on. The tourist info folks have sent us out to see the work of an well known artist in Rhue, not far from town. His wife also runs a gallery for other artists. Closed on Sundays so we drive to the end of the road which is single land with just a few houses scattered along it. We might as well stay here for the night, go to the gallery in the morning and watch for the tall ship coming down the fiord to the sea. We are lucky to chance upon an overnight space with a grand view of many many islands...and a walk down to a light beacon and beach. While there I find a lovely spot to meditate upon the sea and waves and rocks...the sound and wave action like my beloved Klee Wyck. David spends time talking with Andrew who has set up his tripod to catch a sunset picture that he missed the last time he came here ( a psychiatric nurse from Australia). And we are treated to a smashing light show that goes on and on and on as the light stays so long. Cars start to arrive, car doors slam, people emerge with cameras. Maybe sunsets like this are not common.
July 2 HAPPY BIRTHDAY PHILLIP!
This morning we visit James Hawkins at his studio exhibit. He is gutsy with color and brush stroke, really making the canvas move like wind or water or mist. He is also very friendly and he and David talk of tall ships which James and his wife have crewed on. Other artists are featured in another gallery. All strong art and a pleasure to look at. We leave with a postcard of Jame's work, no room for anything bigger in our van but it gets put up on the van walls as a new and welcomed piece. Next stop, the computer store. Again we are taken care of immediately. I am sooooo hopeful. The thought of beginning those writings again is daunting. We leave it in his capable hands and go off to shop for groceries and a visit to Ullapools art center. Wow! There are terrific artists here. Both local and down the coast. My waitress at the hotel, Kim Richards, told me to look for her work at the center and both David and I were impressed. She uses a combination of painting and then playing with it on the computer. Good strong stuff depicting the area with a designerly bent. Her card is up in our van gallery also. But we did buy a small original, maybe pencil and ink. Talented artist... Charlotte Watters (who packaged it up safely for us). These drawings and washes are also of the hills, houses, water, land that makes up this remote spot. They are more towards representational, a bit abstract. We have her postcard in our gallery, too. It is beginning to look a bit like a hippy van. Finally we are heading off to Applecross. The hills by our route are fuzzy with bracken and dark heather, yet to bloom. We stop early. Tonight I discover that a bit of the blog is still missing so I have to fill in. Not easy. Thanks to the notes I have taken and my camera for sequence, I struggle with it but tire and have to give up before I am done. Tomorrow.
