Islay: Singing Sands and Kildalton Cross

Kilnaughton Bay

Our last day! We chose two shortish walks with lunch in Port Ellen in between. The first started at Kilnaughton Bay, just outside Port Ellen.  At the east end of the bay we explored this old building which looks like a ruined chapel but is actually the remains of a bathing hut where the ladies of Cairnmore House would once have changed. Underneath the sand, you can still see the tiled floor

From here, we crossed the bay and picked our way across rocks and walkways to the lighthouse at Carraig Fhada with its twin white towers.

The lighthouse was commissioned in 1832 by Walter Frederick Campbell as a memorial to his wife, Ellinor, and was taken over by the Northern Lighthouse Board in 1924.

Backtracking from the lighthouse, we took the path marked Singing Sands from which we had good views back over the bay. We’d been watching the cruise ship, Ocean Atlantic of Albatros Expeditions, and I looked it up later. It was on an 8 day voyage from Dublin to Aberdeen via Orkney and Shetland. Next departure is May 21st, 2020, should you be interested. I can’t see any prices – you have to request a quote: I suspect it might be well beyond what I would like to pay!

The Singing Sands were a bit of a disappointment. The beach, Traigh Bhan, was certainly beautiful, but we couldn’t make the sands sing however we trod on them, although we’d had success before on Ardnamurchan. (The “singing” is supposed to come from the sound the sand makes as you walk through it, and depends on the size of the grains).

From Traigh Bhan, we climbed the grassy hill behind it, with more views back over Kilnaughton Bay until we came to a series of three cemeteries. The oldest one was by far the most interesting – Kilnaughton Old Churchyard in which you can still see the ruins of the old chapel, including a slab with a carved knight clutching his sword.

As usual, I have far too many pictures of old gravestones. I think I just liked the angel and urn on the left below. The image next to it is one of those tragic tales which always give me pause. You have to really zoom to read it, so I’ll summarise. The stone was erected by Betsy Ferguson in memory of her husband, Donald Whyte, and their sons. Donald, 53, and son Daniel, 17, were drowned at Port Ellen lighthouse on 1st January 1916. Presumably they were working as the keepers. Two other sons were killed in action, Dugald (21) in December 1915 and Walter (20) in August 1916 – they are interred in Belgium and France respectively. So in less than a year, Betsy lost her husband and three sons. Another son, John, died in infancy and the longest surviving son, Robert, died in 1933 aged 28. Betsy herself died in 1935, aged 68, and the final name on the stone is her daughter, Jessie, who survived till 1950 when she was 52. How many tragedies can one family bear?

I was also looking for Sinclairs because of my Great-Grandfather, John Joss Sinclair, who came from Islay. There were quite a lot! The stones below interested me the most because, although for a family of Campbells, one of the wives listed was Christina Sinclair, and the name was passed down to (possibly) a grandchild. It’s a family name with John Joss Sinclair’s descendants too – my grandmother and mother were both given the name Christina and my middle name is Christine. Could this Christina (born c. 1832) be a relative, possibly an aunt, of John Joss who was born in 1866? Maybe someday I’ll put the work in to find out – at the moment I’m happy speculating!

After exploring the cemeteries, we drove into Port Ellen for lunch, then continued along the south coast, past all the distilleries, to Kildalton. Here, there is another ruined church containing several carved medieval grave slabs.

However, the most notable thing about Kildalton is the High Cross in the churchyard, one of the finest early Christian crosses in Scotland, dating from the second half of the 8th century. The cross stands 2.65 metres in height, with arms 1.32 metres across. The biblical carvings, although somewhat weathered, can still be identified and include David fighting a lion, the Virgin and Child, Abraham about to sacrifice Isaac, and Cain murdering Abel.

As we left, we dropped some money in the collection box by the gate, and were amused both by the fact that most people seemed to leave their offerings exposed at the foot of the cross, and by the warning notice on the gate.

Outside the churchyard is another cross, this one medieval. The other picture below is John at Kildalton on our previous visit in 1989. I think I must be taking the photograph from the base of this cross. In 2019 there was another, more modern feature, by the track visible behind John, but I’ll leave that excitement till the end …

From here, we walked down a lovely woodland path to the small jetty at Port Mor. It was a lovely spot to sit and relax for a while – but not too long! We knew what treats awaited us …

Back at Kildalton, we made a beeline for Cake @ The Cross, delicious home-baking on an honesty box system. We had a cup of tea (£1 each) and a cake (£2 each) totalling £6. Now, we’d already emptied all our change into the collecting box at the church and the honesty box didn’t run to £4 change for our tenner. What to do? I bet you can guess the solution. Yes! Another two slices of cake brought the total neatly to £10 and we enjoyed them after our dinner that night.

The next morning, we packed up and drove to Port Askaig for the ferry. It was raining – hard – and we felt sorry for the people disembarking. We’d had a wonderful week and, apart from a few blips, had been so lucky with the weather. We’d love to go back to Islay, but our sadness at leaving was tempered by the though that in another 7 weeks (mid-July) we’d be off again, this time up the west coast of mainland Scotland. Coming soon – probably.

Islay: day trip to Jura

Although we’d visited Islay before, we’d never been to its neighbour, Jura. It’s a short hop on the ferry from Port Askaig to Feolin – there’s a timetable, but no booking. However, if there are too many cars for one trip, as there were the day we travelled, the boat will make the five minute crossing several times to clear the queue.

While we were watching our own ferry depart, we also saw the big ferry coming in to Port Askaig from the mainland, and were sad to think that in a couple of days we’d have to get on it at the end of our holiday. There was a good view too of Caol Ila distillery, one we hadn’t had time to visit.

Jura is 28 miles long and about 8 miles wide, but most of it is mountainous, bare and infertile, and thus very sparsely populated (196 inhabitants in the 2011 census). Much of it is inaccessible except on foot, including Barnhill at its northern point where George Orwell famously wrote 1984 and which is a four mile walk from where the road ends. On a day trip, we could only scratch the surface so made straight for the only settlement of any size, Craighouse, which has a shop, hotel, tea-room (The Antlers) and – guess what! – a distillery. We didn’t have time to visit this one either, but we enjoyed The Antlers (twice). Could this be the distillery cat sitting disdainfully in the carpark opposite?

We walked around the village for a while, and out onto the pier. The mountains you can see are the Paps of Jura, so called because of their smooth, breast-like shape – even though there are three of them! They are all around 2500 feet. The view of the mainland at the end of the gallery is Knapdale – I remember admiring the view in reverse from there last year.

Here are the Paps from further up the road. Beautiful!

Although the island is several miles wide, Loch Tarbert slashes it almost in half, as this satellite image from Wikimedia Commons shows. Jura is less than a mile across here, and for thousands of years, people used this strip as a short cut between the island of Colonsay and the mainland.

It was therefore really easy to do a coast to coast walk from Tarbert Bay to the shores of the Loch. We explored the latter first.

When we returned to explore the bay, we found we had observers. Jura has about 6000 red deer, outnumbering the human population by 30 to 1. In fact the name of the island is probably derived from the Norse dyr-oe, or deer island.

Also on Tarbert Bay is a small burial ground with a prehistoric standing stone and the remains of a chapel dedicated to St Columba. The standing stone has later been marked with Christian crosses.

On our way back to Craighouse, we stopped at another graveyard, Kilearnadil, which is named after St Earnan, Columba’s uncle and one of the 12 men who accompanied him to Scotland. The graveyard contains the Campbell Mausoleum, burial place of 11 Campbell lairds, and a memorial to those of Clan Shaw killed by the Campbells in 1614.

We explored Jura’s parish church in Craighouse – very simple and plain, but with a couple of nice windows.

Then it was time to return to Feolin for the ferry.

There’s really not a lot to see in Feolin – that’s pretty much it above – so we went for a short walk along Whitefarland Bay until we could see the ferry coming. We met more deer!

This was a lovely day out, but I think to do proper justice to Jura we would need to stay on the island. With limited accommodation, that’s easier said than done and is maybe better left until John retires and we can be more flexible about dates. Dream on!

Glasgow Gallivanting: July/August 2019

Loch Long from Eilean Donan Apartments

There was no Gallivanting post in July because we were too busy gallivanting away from home. We stayed in three different places, and just look at the views we had! First, we travelled up the west coast to Dornie and spent a week in a beautiful apartment on the banks of Loch Long (see above).

On our way home, we stopped for a couple of nights at the Isles of Glencoe hotel. I think the view from our window here was even better (see below).

Loch Leven from Isles of Glencoe Hotel

After a few days at home catching up with friends and family we were off again, this time to the east coast just this side of the English border. When I saw the view below online it sold me the cottage we rented in Lower Burnmouth. This is our bedroom window – I admit when we got there I was disappointed to find that high tide that week would always be during the night while we slept and mid-afternoon when we were out. The view at low tide was much less picturesque because there is no sandy beach. However, towards the end of our stay we made sure we were home early enough one day to catch the tide, and watched mesmerised as it receded. Expect many, many more pictures when I finally get round to writing this up …

The North Sea from the Old Lobster House

When we weren’t away gallivanting, we managed to get a few walks in from home. I’ve posted about the Greenock Cut walk before (in April 2016) and nothing much has changed, except there wasn’t a cruise liner in port at Greenock last time.

We’ve also done the walk to Callander Crags and Bracklinn Falls before. However, that was pre-blogging which allows me to do a then-and-now gallery. Here’s 2008:

Followed by 2019 – I don’t seem to have taken any pictures of John, how remiss of me! The cairn is to celebrate Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee in 1897 with a small plaque added (and later defaced) for Queen Elizabeth’s Diamond Jubilee in 2012.

A new-to-us walk was Eglinton Country Park. The park has a really interesting history and I might do a full post on that later, so just a couple of photos for now.

In June I wrote about the Oor Wullie art trail, which has taken over several Scottish cities this summer, and posted a few of the Wullies I had snapped. I have many, many more but some people found them ugly or scary so I’ll only add one, Wonder Wullie. I’ve met several other weird figures over the past couple of months though! Joining Wullie below are a cow met outside a pub in Dalwhinnie; Nutkin, from another art trail in the Highlands; the Clyde Mascot from the Commonwealth Games in 2014; Elvis, who has not left the building; and Glasgow University’s Lion and Unicorn which I’ve featured before, but not with their new lick of gold paint.

Clyde and Elvis can be found in Kelvingrove Museum and Art Gallery which we visited in August to see the excellent Linda McCartney Retrospective (on till January). No photography was allowed in the exhibition but, as always, we came away with a new set of shots. The organ in the Centre Hall is extremely photogenic.

So are the Floating Heads (by Sophie Cave) which grace the East Court, and the Spitfire which flies over the West.

However, I can’t believe I have never properly looked beyond these to the stained glass windows at the end of each gallery. They are quite different, but both stunning (though I prefer the blue bird).

Some new murals by Art Pistol have appeared along the Forth and Clyde Canal at Firhill. Inspired by Mackintosh, one is based on his well-known work Roses and the other on the lesser known Sailing Ships. They’re under a bridge so hard to capture, but I tried. Again, I think I prefer the blue one.

Glasgow Women’s Library welcomed some Kenyan visitors recently. As part of a British Council funded programme the Library has partnered with a group called Book Bunk in Nairobi. Founded by Wanjiru Koinange and Angela Wachuka, Book Bunk aims to transform three public libraries in Nairobi, from throwbacks to a colonial era which excluded Africans, into inclusive spaces with heritage, public art and shared experiences at their core. Read the GWL blogpost about Wanjiru and Wachuka’s visit, watch the Book Bunk video and weep – and if your finger strays towards the Donate Now button, so much the better. Wanjiru, on the left of the picture, is also an author and read some extracts from her debut novel, The havoc of choice, which follows one family during the 2007 Kenyan election and its violent aftermath. It’s not out till next week, but I’ve pre-ordered a copy and can’t wait for it to arrive.

Finally, to two fabulously floral events! My friend Irene held a garden party at which she raised over £1500 for Pancreatic Cancer UK. Cheers Irene! We had a great time.

September sees the heritage festival Doors Open swing into action throughout Scotland. Glasgow’s turn isn’t for another few weeks, but in this 30th anniversary year a celebration was held last weekend in the city’s Govanhill Baths. Blooms with a View filled the old Ladies’ Pool with flowers and acted as a base for various events. We had booked tickets for a talk on Saturday which was unfortunately cancelled, but decided to turn up anyway because we wanted to see the Baths. Here’s the Ladies’ Pool in its “glad rags”.

You might have noticed that underneath the flowers the pool is rather the worse for wear. Originally opened in 1917, the baths survived until 2001 when the city council decided to shut them down. Local residents were outraged and staged a 147 day occupation which saved the building from demolition. The campaign became a charitable trust and has so far raised about £7m towards refurbishment. Officially, the baths are closed again in preparation for work to start, so we were glad to get this opportunity to visit. We also sneaked a peek at the other two pools – the learners’ pool, which looked rather gross, and the main pool which looked rather better!

No Scottish words this month, I’m running out of time. Happy September!

Islay: the Rhinns of Islay

View across Loch Indaal from John Francis Campbell Monument

The Rhinns of Islay is the peninsula which makes up the north-west of the island. We’d been as far as Port Charlotte on our whisky tour, so the next day we decided to explore the Rhinns’ furthest end. But first we stopped to climb a small, monument-topped hill near Bridgend, from where we could see across Loch Indaal to the route we would take. The monument is to John Francis Campbell (1821-1885), a descendant of Daniel Campbell who bought Islay in 1726. John would have inherited Islay himself, had his father not run up huge debts forcing him to sell up in the 1840s. However, John carved out a reputation for himself in other fields, as a renowned author and scholar who became an authority on Celtic folklore producing the four-volume collection Popular Tales of the West Highlands.

From here, we drove to the end of the Rhinns to explore the twin coastal villages of Port Wemyss and Portnahaven, both built in the 1830s to house tenants who were cleared from the island’s interior. The Campbell of the day, Walter Frederick, named Port Wemyss after his father-in-law, the 8th Earl of Wemyss. (He also founded Port Charlotte and Port Ellen, called after his mother and his wife respectively.)

We found a small parking area in Port Wemyss, just across from the small island of Orsay on which stands the Rhinns of Islay lighthouse, built by Robert Stevenson in 1825. From here we followed a 2.5km loop through both villages. Burnside Lodge in Port Wemyss operates as a café in the summer – as this was May it wasn’t open, but we were delighted to discover the Cake Cupboard! Flasks for tea and coffee, a selection of delicious home baking and an Honesty Box to pay for it all. We had a break here before we’d even started our walk …

Following the pretty coastal path through the village we could see seals basking on the rocks over on Orsay.

Back on the road, we reached Portnahaven – quirkily decorative.

We discovered that the Parish Church was having a coffee morning – well, it would have been rude not to visit, don’t you think? Their cakes were good too – this was a day of appalling diet.

We continued to waddle round the village, making our way back to Port Wemyss along the coast. I wonder who lost a hat?

Next stop, Port Charlotte where we started by visiting the Museum of Islay Life, housed in an old church.

I found lots of interest here including, amongst other things, an old light from the Rhinns Lighthouse which we’d just seen:

An example of the illicit stills we kept reading about:

And a display about the loss of the Tuscania and Otranto in 1918, the ships commemorated by the American Monument which we’d visited on our first day. This included the notebook of local police sergeant Malcolm MacNeill who went to great lengths in his attempts to identify the bodies washed ashore – here he lists the property of each man found (taken through glass, sorry about the awful picture, but I found it too moving to leave out).

Most intriguingly, I photographed the group of pipers below because it included a MacAffer (my great-grandfather’s sister married a MacAffer) and only realised when preparing this post that it also included Piper Lily MacDougall whose gravestone I featured a couple of weeks ago. I was interested because she had such a long life, dying aged 100 in 2014. It doesn’t say on the museum caption when the photograph was taken, but I bought a book of old Islay which includes the same image and gives the date as 1972, so Lily would have been 58 here.

After the museum, we went on another short loop walk (5 km – not quite enough to work off all that cake). We passed the hotel and its pretty garden …

… before following the shore to the lighthouse at Rubh’an Duin.

Then through a field observed by curious sheep, across the road and up a farm track with evidence that the farmer grows grain for nearby Bruichladdich. There used to be another distillery actually in Port Charlotte, Lochindaal, which closed in 1929.

We continued to climb above the village where we got good views over Loch Indaal and Port Charlotte and were terrorised (well, I was) by another herd of excitable cattle – not the beautiful highland cows shown below who allowed us to pass without showing much interest in us at all.

The journey back was on a minor road which took us down to the pier for a final look at the village.

From here, we returned to our cottage. I can’t remember what we cooked for dinner that night, but I hope it was suitably nutritious to counteract all that cake!

Islay: whisky galore!

Islay Whisky Tours

Islay has nine whisky distilleries – already two more than when we last visited thirty years ago, and soon to be ten when Port Ellen reopens next year. There was no way we were going to visit without sampling a few drams, and driving was therefore not an attractive option. Step forward Islay Whisky Tours, operated by Bowmore Taxis. We chose a one day tour at a cost of £260, which included the services of a driver/guide from 9am to 5pm and tours of two distilleries selected by us. We booked about 6 weeks ahead – the longer the better, the company is deservedly busy and popular – and received a detailed itinerary based around our choices well in advance of our trip. This included short visits to several other distilleries and some general sight-seeing. We had a very enjoyable day, as you will see below, and highly recommend this company.

Kilchoman

We chose two contrasting distilleries for our tours – one small and privately owned, the other large and owned by a multi-national. Our lovely driver, Donald, appeared at our accommodation exactly at the time arranged, and we set off immediately for our first destination. Kilchoman, the small distillery we chose, began production in 2005 and is Islay’s second-newest distillery, at the time the first to be built for over 120 years. It’s the only farm distillery on the island and we saw the whole process from the barley growing in the surrounding fields to the small bottling plant. It initially felt a bit weird to be sampling whisky at 10 in the morning – but we got over it!

The distillery also has a small café which looked very good, but we didn’t have time to try it. We did have time to look at the Visitor Centre displays before our tour started and were amused to find four Sinclairs in the list of persons contravening The Excise Act, 1801, i.e. they were probably distilling illegally. Shocking, they can’t be related to me. Nor shall I claim kinship with John Sinclair who established the short-lived Mulindry Distillery in 1826. According to the local Excise Officer, he liked his own product a little too much, went bankrupt in 1831, and emigrated to America. I’m sure any Sinclairs I am related to were fine, upstanding citizens.

Bruichladdich

Our next stop was Bruichladdich Distillery, on the shore of Loch Indaal ( a sea loch) just outside the pretty village of Port Charlotte. We didn’t have a tour here, but we had a quick look around and came out with a bottle of gin! As well as whisky, Bruichladdich also produces The Botanist Islay Dry Gin, and very good it was too (note past tense).

By the way, if you are pronouncing the ch sounds in these names as in church, then that’s not right. Ch is a guttural, back-of-the-throat, Germanic sound – usually. Just to fool you, Bruichladdich has two chs. The first is pronounced as expected – the other isn’t pronounced at all, hence the name of the Laddie Shop.

Bowmore

Next, we had a couple of hours in Bowmore, the island’s main settlement, to have lunch, look around the distillery (no tour) and explore the unusual Kilarrow Parish Church (1767), otherwise known as the Round Church for obvious reasons. That’s it at the top of the hill, above. There was a great view over the distillery roofs from its upper windows.

We visited Bowmore Distillery, Islay’s oldest (1779) in 1989. From what I can remember, it was the only one offering commercial tours at the time. It hasn’t changed much, though I don’t remember the mermaid.

Again, it’s set right on the shore, almost directly opposite Bruichladdich on Loch Indaal. The sea was an important form of transport – Kilchoman is the exception being inland.

Ardbeg

At 2pm we met Donald again and set off for our afternoon visits. The morning had been spent in the north of the island, now we were heading back south where three distilleries lie in close proximity to each other. The furthest away is Ardbeg which dates from 1815, though hasn’t had a continuous history. We liked its green bus, and the views along the coast to Dunyvaig Castle and the neighbouring distillery, Lagavulin.

Laphroaig

We didn’t visit Lagavulin next – we drove past it because we had a 3pm tour booked at Laphroaig (pronounced Lafroyg, it means ‘broad hollow by the bay’). Donald and Alexander Johnston founded the distillery in 1815, and it remained in family hands for the next 139 years. These days it’s a multinational, owned by Beam Suntory. Laphroaig is arguably the best known Islay malt: it was certainly the first one I tried and is still my favourite – if you like your drink to taste of peat, smoke, and iodine then its for you (check out the marketing slogans in the gallery below). One person who certainly likes it is Prince Charles who gave the distillery his Royal Warrant in 1994 – his coat of arms (three feathers) appears on every bottle. In the gallery below it’s on the wall in one of the photographs. You can also see a cairn unveiled by the Prince in 2015 for Laphroaig’s bicentenary in 2015.

I haven’t bothered with the technical details of making whisky because I’d probably get them wrong, and you can very easily look them up anyway. As you know, it’s the human element that catches my eye and women’s history in particular. Here we have a splendid example in Bessie Williamson who arrived as a temporary shorthand typist in 1934 but remained for nearly 50 years, eventually becoming the first female distiller and distillery owner in the 20th century. Bravo Bessie!

Lagavulin

After our tour at Laphroaig, we backtracked to Lagavulin for a quick look at its grounds. Like many distilleries, its site was originally used for illegal stills, in this case becoming licensed around 1810. It’s now part of the Diageo group. From here we could once again see Dunyvaig Castle, this time from the other side. That’s me with Donald, our driver, in the final photo below.

Port Ellen

On our way back to our accommodation we made one last stop at Port Ellen where we spied this beautiful ship in the bay. The distillery here closed in 1983, but its owners, Diageo again, are set to re-open it next year. You can still buy its single malt whisky, though it’s becoming increasingly rare and therefore expensive. We bought a bottle at a Scotch Malt Whisky Society tasting about 25 years ago, and five of us demolished it the following night. I seem to remember the tasting notes involved sailors’ pigtails …

Donald dropped us off at the end of our tour after a wonderful day during which the sun even shone for us! Many thanks to him and to Lamont who made all the arrangements so splendidly (though possibly he had nothing to do with the sunshine). Once again, a hearty (and completely unsolicited) recommendation for Islay Whisky Tours. Total stars!

Islay: Finlaggan and Ballygrant

Loch Finlaggan

Finlaggan Castle is a ruined fortified house on the isle of Eilean Mór on Islay’s Loch Finlaggan. It was once a residence and stronghold of the Lords of the Isles, semi-autonomous rulers of the Hebrides and Kintyre from the 12th century until 1493 when the lands of the Lordship were forfeited to King James IV. The title Lord of the Isles was annexed to the Crown in 1542 (and is now one of the titles of the present Prince of Wales). The castle appears to have been demolished around that time.

In truth, there’s not much to see of the ruins, but we enjoyed our visit all the same. We started in the small visitor centre which has an interesting display of artefacts discovered during archaeological excavations, along with a fabulous new virtual-reality reconstruction of the settlement in the early 15th century. You can see John totally immersed in it above.

I was also, if you remember, looking out for references to Sinclairs (my great-grandfather’s name) and MacAffers (the family his sister married into). Sinclair is a relatively common name in Scotland and we found many in the graveyards around Islay, but the only reference to MacAffer that I found was at Finlaggan. The MacAffers were hereditary armour bearers to the Lords of the Isles – see below.

From the Visitor Centre, we took the path down to the site, crossing the reed beds of the loch on duckboards.

On the island, interpretive panels explain the ruins and fill in the gaps of what was no longer there. We also visited Finlaggan in 1989 when it was quite overgrown, and I think you can tell from the pictures below that it is now much better maintained.

After a quick lunch in Port Askaig, we drove back to a little village called Ballygrant from where we planned to walk to Lily Loch. This was a pleasant, if unspectacular, walk through woods and farmland, and the loch was pretty – although we were there too early to see waterlilies.

From the loch, we crossed an area of open moorland to take a parallel track back – this took us through the village of Keills. The name derives from the Gaelic for church, Cill, and the graveyard here contains the ruins of an old chapel attributed to St Columba. I can never resist an old graveyard, especially one with a view like this. Headstones which caught my eye included one for a father and son who died a fortnight apart, and the memorial to Piper Lily MacDougall aged 100 years. There must be interesting stories attached to both of those.

From the graveyard we headed back to Ballygrant where we caught Labels, the local café, just as it was about to close. Coffee at an outdoor table was a pleasant end to a round walk of 9.5km.

(In my last post, I mentioned that I had been called for jury duty and might therefore be out of action for a while. That turned out to be an anti-climax. I called the helpline three nights in a row to find out if I was required – I wasn’t and was “released from my citation” on the third call. Whoopee!)

Islay: Mull of Oa and Port Ellen

Admiring the extensive views, Mull of Oa

The Oa (just pronounced O) is the rocky and rugged peninsula in the southwest of Islay. Once fairly densely populated, it now has only a few scattered dwellings, one of which is our rented cottage. A top priority was to drive out to the Mull of Oa – the tip – to the American Monument: our error was to do this on the first morning. The weather looked reasonably pleasant from our window, but we failed to take into account that the Mull was considerably higher than we were and the closer we got, the poorer visibility became.

Oh well, we pressed on regardless. The Mull is an RSPB reserve, so we left the car in its parking area and set off on a waymarked circular tour (3.5km). If there were birds, we couldn’t see them.

The outer route is direct to the monument, but before we got there we were surprised by a herd of feral goats suddenly looming out of the mist: almost impossible to photograph. This one looks quite evil!

The monument itself was similarly invisible until we were almost upon it. The second picture below is from our previous visit in 1989 – that’s John lurking under the blue cagoule – so we have never visited this site in good weather! Last time was even worse: we had hired bikes and cycled out from Port Ellen (hence the map pocket round John’s neck) and it wasn’t just misty, it was pouring. I remember we cut our losses on the full-day hire and returned the bikes by lunchtime.

What is the American Monument? It was erected by the American Red Cross in 1920 to commemorate two US troopship disasters off the coast of Islay in 1918. SS Tuscania was torpedoed by a German U-Boat on 5th February with the loss of over 200 American and British crew. A few months later, HMS Otranto sank following a collision in bad weather with another troopship. This time 431 people died, including 80 British crew. As well as the main commemoration, there is a tribute from President Woodrow Wilson.

As we left, we spotted more feral goats. This pair were more visble and posed helpfully against the skyline.

The return journey took us parallel to the clifftops – the mist was clearing a bit by this time. I suppose you could say the view was atmospheric, if not extensive …

From here, we turned inland again towards Upper Killeyan Farm and the path back to the carpark. There were several highland cattle in the field who were not bothered by us at all. Even the one almost blocking the gate barely looked at us as we sidled past. Scary horns though!

As we had to pass our cottage to go on to our next walk, we stopped off there for lunch before heading down to Port Ellen, the island’s second largest town. Below is the Islay Hotel which sits on a corner site overlooking the seafront. (We didn’t go inside this time, but we had lunch there later in the week when I took the shot of their wine glass chandelier which caught my eye.)

We stayed in the Islay Hotel in 1989, though that building was later demolished after 20 years of dereliction, and replaced with the current hotel in 2011. The two views below are of the same terrace. The first, taken in 1989, looks towards the old hotel, the taller building just right of centre. The second, taken this year, looks in the other direction along the terrace from the hotel, but I think you can see that they are recognisably the same.

After almost 3 weeks of camping and B&Bs in 1989, we thought the Islay Hotel would be a treat for the last three nights of our holiday. Nothing could have been further from the truth! The place was very run down and badly managed, so I’m not surprised it closed a few years later. The owners were a couple who, I’m guessing, had sold their home in the South of England for such a vast price that they could afford to buy a Scottish hotel – not an uncommon occurrence. Unfortunately their management skills seemed to be close to zero, but you couldn’t dislike them because every time something went wrong they would laugh merrily as they botched a solution, whereas I’d have been dying of embarrassment at demonstrating such incompetence. Later in the week of our recent stay, we asked someone local if he knew what had happened to them and it seems they left the island. Probably one of their wiser decisions.

Anyway, back to the present day. We wandered round Port Ellen, which didn’t take long, before heading off on a 5km loop in search of standing stones. The weather improved as the afternoon wore on and we were able to appreciate the views this time.

The walk first of all took us up a very well made cycleway / footpath running alongside the main road. There are three distilleries on the coast to the east of Port Ellen – Laphroaig, Lagavulin and Ardbeg – and this would be a fabulous way to visit them on foot, possibly getting the bus back if the refreshment had taken away your desire to walk. Our whisky plans were for another day, however, so we turned off before we reached any of the distilleries. But first we climbed the small mound topped by the memorial to Major General Alexander McDougall.

McDougall was born in Islay in 1732, but emigrated to New York with his family when he was six. His first job was as a milk delivery boy, then he signed up as a merchant seaman aged 14. He worked his way up to become the owner of several ships before being commissioned in the Continental Amy during the American War of Independence. He later became a politician and President of the Bank of New York – MacDougal Street in Greenwich Village is named in his honour. (I’m not sure why the spelling is different. A mistake? Or maybe he had changed his name slightly?)

Across the road from the memorial is the Old Excise House. We took the lane running alongside it, walking uphill through the fertile fields growing grain for the whisky.

The verges were lush with wild flowers. A stile on the right provided access to the first standing stone, one of many dotted across Islay which date from the Neolithic or early Bronze Age. Climbing above it, we could look back on the distillery buildings of Laphroaig.

We continued up the lane and turned right onto the tiny road towards Kilbride Farm where there is another stone.

Retracing our steps, we passed the junction with the lane and carried on down the road back to Port Ellen. Here we met some curious cows who gave us a hard stare from behind a wall. They didn’t have the big horns of the highland cattle, but they looked much more intimidating. The second picture below, of cows blocking a gate, dates from 1989 so we must have had a similar experience then. What is it about Islay cows?

The field across the road contained another standing stone. There appeared to be no cows in it, but there’s a cunning dip in which they were hiding. As we walked up to the stone we spooked a small herd of deer which ran down the slope, followed by the thundering hooves of at least 20 cows. They ran back and forward across the field as a herd, eventually stopping between us and the gate. And staring. Hard. We sidled to the fence at the side. Barbed wire, so I wasn’t going to climb that. Fortunately by this time, the cows were beginning to lose interest in us and wandered off. No pictures of this bunch, but next to the stone below (which wasn’t even all that attractive) you can see the first lot again who, after our escape, were still giving us the evil eye.

The last stone was near the junction of the main road we’d started out on. Fortunately, no cows in sight. From there it was a short distance back to Port Ellen and our car.

I really should have had my July Gallivanting post online today, but guess what? We’ve been gallivanting too much! A large part of the month was spent travelling with no time to write and sometimes without decent wifi, which also eplains why I have been less active in blog reading and commenting – apologies!  I’ll do a joint July / August Gallivanting post instead.

In a further complication,  I’ve been called to the High Court for jury duty, starting on Wednesday. As this is the last post I prepared before we went on holiday, I might have to go silent for a bit if I’m selected to serve. I know it’s my civic duty and I should want to do it, but I really hope I’m not picked. I’ve served on four juries in total, the first when I was only 19 years old, so I think I’ve done my bit!

Till we meet again … may it be soon.

Islay: Cragabus Byres

Islay map-en

Attribution: Ayack CC BY-SA 3.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)

Our week on Islay began by ferry, which deposited us at Port Askaig in the north-east of the island. With only a short stop for provisions in the main settlement of Bowmore, we headed straight for our cottage in the south-west. As the name suggests, Cragabus Byres is the former byre of Upper Cragabus farm. Set in gorgeous countryside on The Oa peninsula, about half way along the road from Port Ellen to Lower Killeyan, it has been beautifully renovated. The owner, Craig, could not have been more helpful and the welcome dram was very much appreciated.

Our legs felt a bit cramped after the journey, so when we had finished our dram we set off on a circular walk around the local farmland. In the first couple of pictures in the gallery below, we are looking back at Upper Cragabus. Away behind the ruined church you can see the end of the peninsula, the Mull of Oa, which we would explore the next day. As I mentioned in my last post, my Great-Grandfather Sinclair came from Islay and I intended to keep an eye open for any mentions of the name. We found the first on a farm lorry – possible distant relations?

After our walk, we cooked our dinner (no handy restaurants nearby!) and settled down to plan the next few days. There were so many places we wanted to explore. This was going to be good!

Islay: call to place

MV Finlaggan at Kennacraig

Back in May, we took the ferry from Kennacraig in Kintyre to Port Askaig on beautiful Islay (pronounced Eye-la) where we spent a wonderful week tramping all over the island. We last visited on our epic Hebridean tour of 1989, parts of which we replicated last summer, so we were well overdue a visit, especially as we had only been there for a couple of days the first time and felt we hadn’t done it justice. Since then, of course, a certain amount of Islay whisky had been consumed and it was not impossible that a distillery – or two, or more – would appear on our itinerary.

John and Janet Sinclair, John and Meg

In addition to the scenery and whisky, another attraction of Islay was the pull of family lore. One of my great-grandfathers, my mother’s maternal grandfather John Joss Sinclair, was born there in 1866. John was destined to be a Church Minister, as decided by his father. However, he declared that he had no intention of going around the countryside with his collar on back to front, and at 16 years old he ran away from the island to mainland Scotland.

Over the next few years John was employed in farms around the West of Scotland and became a noted ploughman. Eventually, he arrived at Kilmacolm to work on The Green Farm where he fell in love with the farmer’s daughter, Janet Carson. John and Janet’s first child, and only son, John, was born in 1886, sometime before their marriage. By 1901 seven daughters had been added to the family, so Janet’s life must have been a hard slog.

John Sinclair ploughing, 1908

John and Janet worked on farms in Coatbridge, Cumbernauld and Amochrie, and John was eventually in charge of a Clydesdale stallion. In his fifties, he gave up farm work and returned to Kilmacolm. They moved into the Bridgend Toll House, which came with his new job in charge of the road-menders. The Toll figures largely in Mum’s many happy memories of her childhood. Here she is in the late 1920s as a baby and toddler, “Wee Chrissie”, with her grandparents. For reference, Janet must be about the same age as I am now. How times have changed!

John never went back to see his parents, only returning to Islay in later life with one of his grandchildren (not my mum) to see his sister Katie MacAffer. He and Janet are both buried in Kilmacolm – compare the gravestone below as it was after my great-grandmother died in 1949, and as it is today. (Thanks to my cousin, Tracy Rice, for the current photo.)

When we visited Islay in 1989 I either didn’t know about this family history or wasn’t especially interested, I can’t remember. However, in the last few years I’ve worked with Mum to blog about her memories – you can read her post John and Janet for a fuller version of what I’ve written here – and now I’m much more aware. I’m not about to start researching our family tree (far too much like hard work) but I love collecting the stories Mum is passing down and decided on our recent visit to Islay to look out for any references to Sinclairs or MacAffers.

So we went to Islay looking for whisky, walking and family history. The next few posts will tell you how we got on. This post, I’m linking to Cathy at ~wander.essence~ who has a monthly Call to Place strand in which she invites you to write about what enticed you to choose a recently visited or future destination. Head over there for her fabulous traveller’s tales!

Drummond and Monzie

Drummond Gardens

The garden at Drummond Castle in Perthshire is said to be one of the finest formal gardens in Europe according to its website (source not provided!) First laid out in the 17th century, it was restructured in Victorian times and again in the 20th century. Queen Victoria herself visited in 1842 and expressed approval.

The original castle was built around 1490 by John, 1st Lord Drummond. The keep still stands, but the rest of the castle was remodelled in 1890. It’s not possible to visit either part, but you get excellent and varied views from the gardens.

The free map provided at the entrance details all the plants, many of which were not yet in bloom (our previous visit was at a later time of year when the roses were beautiful). I could have done with a guide to the statuary as my knowledge of mythology is not up to identifying the various gods and goddesses on show. Perhaps you had to shell out for the guide book to get that.

As well as the formal gardens, there is also a Woodland Walk which leads through the trees and criss-crosses the central avenue which is graced by the chap below.

The walk is enlivened by a dozen chain-saw carvings.

I wouldn’t say the carver was the best-ever. Just look at the poor wooden deer compared to the real one we spotted! Even allowing for its broken antlers, the carving is a bit weird looking.

Drummond is just south of the small town of Crieff, so when we’d exhausted the garden we headed there for lunch. New since our last visit were these “leafy” Highland cattle installed in 2018 by community group Crieff in Leaf. They celebrate Crieff’s history as the cattle-droving crossroads of Scotland.

After lunch we headed for the most important visit of the day. Monzie Castle is only open for a few weeks each year – 18th May to 16th June in 2019, so my tardiness in writing this post means you’ve missed it!

Monzie Castle

Monzie (pronounced Mun-ee) is a Gaelic word meaning field of corn. The oldest part of the castle is a 17th century tower house which was incorporated into a large, castellated mansion in the late 18th century. Owned by Grahams then Campbells, in 1856 it was bought by the Crichton family, who still live there today. In 1908 there was a serious fire which destroyed the interior leaving only the outside walls, after which it was restored by the leading Scottish architect of the day, Sir Robert Lorimer. He even furnished it.

We were given a tour by the elder Mrs Crichton, including to her private sitting room in the old part of the house, which was surprisingly cosy. At one time, you had to exit the main house and walk all the way round the back to get into the tower house, thus it fell into disuse: these days, there is a passage knocked through to the much more formal “new” house. No photography was allowed inside, but we were free to wander round the outside and the gardens.

Mrs Crichton’s son and his family also live on Monzie estate which, as well as the castle, includes holiday cottages, a B&B, a farm and a joinery business, all powered by their own hydro electric plant. Having never visited before, it’s now somewhere I’d seriously consider staying on holiday.

Finally, on our way home we stopped in the small village of Muthill which we had driven through many times but never explored. We visited the ruins of the Old Church (1400s) and Tower (1100s) as well as two present day churches (exterior only).

This is another place I would love to stay – Muthill boasts a fine-sounding “restaurant with rooms”, the Barley Bree. Some day! In the meantime, we had had an absolutely fabulous day out.