Tuesday 12 to Thursday 14 July - Oban and Mull
The drive to Oban was delightful – the weather fine and the roads clear. We stopped off at a wee gift shop (they were the only place that offered a WC in 15 miles) and enjoyed chatting to the owners – patting their cats, and picking up a couple of things to remind us of our lovely time there.
We were caught in a traffic jam coming into Oban as Princess Anne had arrived and was officiating at the Oban’s 150th birthday celebrations – complete of course with bag pipe bands, and school kids parading, and the most incongruous of all was a bunch of school kids playing ukeleles to celebrate!
We parked the car in the queue for the ferry, got the tickets and had about 40 mins to wander around Oban before needing to be back at the car. Oban is a very pretty seaside town – with lovely architecture, and a number of lovely shops, many local businesses rather than chain stores.
The ferry to Mull takes a brisks 40 minutes, and it seemed no sooner had we ordered a drink than we were about to dock!
The ferry arrives at Craignure – and we got to know it well as Renoir’s favourite pub on Mull is the Craignure Inn, and for good reason, but more of that later. Accommodation was the Crera Hotel literally a five minute drive from the wharf – a chain, but with the feeling of something a little more homely. The buildings are low rise so as not to interfere with the landscape, and built so all the rooms look out onto XXX Bay, separated by a number of low growing coastal plants which gave some privacy in the gardens from the coastal walk.
Our room wasn’t ready when we arrived about 3pm, so we wandered into town for a bevy at said Inn before returning, where I had a nap and Renoir went off to visit the memorial plaque to Gill and her grandmother.
In the evening, back to the ‘village’ where we were disappointed to find that McGregor’s pub only opens for lunch (business must be good!) so continued on to the Craignure Inn for a dinner, which was delicious.
As the sun was just setting (it was about 930pm) we decided to return to the hotel via the coastal road to enjoy the gloaming (as the Scots call it – beautiful soft light than just sort of fades away gently), when Renoir twisted and hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. The path had an edge that had been covered by grass and given the softness of the light, and the fact that he was concentrating on taking photos, he didn’t see it. His ankle was twisted, but being the old footballer he is, walked on it to determine the damage. Back at the hotel the bar staff kindly gave him a serviette full of ice, and I got some anti-inflammatory cream from the room, as well as the pressure bandage I was carrying just in case my own ankle went (still recovering from the fall I had at the end of March in the Hunter Valley!)
A wee dram of single malt, ice, anti-inflammatories meant he passed on ok night and his ankle, although swollen, was ok to walk on the next day.
Wednesday 13 July – Mull
We decided to keep Renoir still for a while, so did some photo downloading and diary catch up in the morning, and I went off to book myself in for a massage. We had a light lunch of pate and then I drove us up to Duart Castle –the clan seat of the McLeans (or MacLean or however you want to spell it!)
The castle has been wonderfully restored by the grandfather of the current clan head, and it has laid out what life would have been like in the 17th century – quite uncomfortable, breezy and dark in my view. The dungeons have mannequins dressed like Spanish prisoners, there are more mannequins in the kitchen, and the bedroom and banquet halls are filled with costumes, furniture, object d’art and weaponry from that time, accompanied by explanations about how they lived, and the clan history. It was brilliantly done – and we were also fortunate enough to be treated to a choral performance in the courtyard of the castle by the Mull Gaelic Choir. Their 12 voices soared up the four stone walls and they sounded truly beautiful – perhaps not as polished as the smaller group we had seen in St Petersburg, but certainly they were passionate.
We finished off our Duart Castle experience with taking photographs from the battlements at the top, which, given the weather was so beautiful, afforded us spectacular 360 degree views, then a cup of tea and a cake and a slow drive back into town – slow because it’s a very windy one-lane road (at least I didn’t have the cyclists with me on the way back the way I did on the way up!)
Back at the hotel by 5pm and off I went to have my massage, while Renoir did some more diary writing and checking of emails etc.. The massage was not the most relaxing I’ve ever had, but my neck felt wonderfully released after she had finished.
Dinner was, again, at the Craignure Inn, and this time they exceeded my expectations. Renoir had salmon, with brie and herbed breadcrumbs, I had the local mussels – and by local I mean from the mussel farm in the next bay. They were plump and creamy, debearded, steamed and served in a thin white wine, cream, garlic and parsley sauce – on my – they were exquisite and certainly the very best mussels I have ever enjoyed! We stayed until closing, drinking whiskey (I had a Clayva – like a Drambouie but not as sweet) watching the crowd and chatting – Craignure was full of tourists, there were two bus loads staying in our hotel alone, as well as a number of independent travelers, so the conversation was lively and the staff friendly.
Thursday 14 July Islay
Well, an early start to be in queue for the ferry by 815am, and onto Islay.
The port for the ferry to Mull is Oban and, as I mentioned, is a lively little town. Well the port for the ferry to Islay is Kennacraig, and couldn’t be more different – two demountable offices and that’s it. It was a 2 hour drive from Oban to Kennacraig, so we could take it slowly, and stopped off in a little fishing village called Tarbut – which I’d love to go back to. Really just one main street running around the bay, it had a very friendly feel and a great history, being home to one of the castles of Robert the Bruce, and having a Viking history as well.
But the ferry waits for no-one so a 30 mins break and we were off down the road for the ferry.
This trip was much longer, nearly two hours, and the ferry reminded us more of the P&O we took around New Zealand than an island hopping ferry. Strobe lights, sculptures, lots of chrome – it was very fancy – but with a terrible reputation we were to discover. Made in Poland, it keeps needing to be repaired, and indeed we had the old ferry on the way back a couple of days later!
It was a misty trip out, not much good for photos, so we settled in to watch the golf, and read. The ferry docks at Port Askaig (pron Askay) and then it’s about a 40 mins drives to Port Ellen (pron P’tellen – the emphases on words tends to be on the 2nd syllable).
Hamish and Rhona run a guest house at which Renoir has stayed before, and were incredibly welcoming – to the point of having us join them upstairs for a drink after we had settled in! P’tellen is a tiny little fishing village, with 2 pubs, 1 food co-op, 1 convenience store, two taxis (big improvement apparently because for years it has just been Carol’s Cabs – with 1 cab for the whole island out of P’tellen!) We shot the breeze with Hamish and Rhona for a while and then wandered up to the White Hart for dinner – the only pub that does food. (Across the road from Hamish & Rhona’s is the Islay Hotel which has been undergoing renovations and restoration for a couple of years – we heard they should be open when next we visit as they are just doing the final touches on the courtyard which will serve as the beer garden.)
The White Hart was very welcoming, with good if slightly plain food. Renoir said his dinner of breaded pork (basically pork schnitzel) would have not been unwelcome on his parents dinner table, while my roasted root veggie and nut load with goats cheese was quite tasty, if a little stodgy. Still it showed imagination and an understanding that vegetarian doesn’t just mean meat-free!
An early night because there much exploring to do the next day!
Friday 15 July – Islay
We arose and breakfasted about 815am – Rhona’s breaksfasts are served between 800am and 845am – if you’re not there you miss out! And Renoir had been looking forward to his porridge and kippers for months – and they didn’t disappoint!
Our first visit was to the beach that will be Flora’s final resting place – but the weather was a bit blustery and we figured another time would be better, so headed onto Bowmore (pron B’more) – which is more or less the capital of Islay, and certainly the biggest town. With the blustering wind and rain we decided to take refuge in their gift shops for a while – and amazingly enough – bought nothing! We cruised down to the Harbour View Hotel to book dinner for the next night before the local caleidh (pron caley - literally meaning ‘the visit’ but always including music, singing and dancing).
We stopped for a light lunch in the Loch View hotel (venue of said caleidh) and then moved on to Bruichladdich (pron Brucladdy) distillery – hoping to catch up with Renoir’s mate Mary, and to taste a whiskey or two – and on the way we stopped to take photos of seals on the rocks – not exactly sunning themselves as there was no sun! but relaxing, flipping their tales and doing things that seals do – such as nothing.
It was such a shame that this was the one day of the year that Mary had off to attend a wedding – so Renoir left her a note, and we tasted their latest brew called the Botanist (locals of course calling it the BotANist!) It is a gin, with ingredients such as apple mint, hawthorn, elder, meadowsweet, wormwood, sweet cicely, tansy, wild thyme and other local wildflowers – and it is FABULOUS! Sorry, don’t think there’ll be any of our bottle left when we get home, but I look forward to finding it somewhere in Brissy and sharing it!
After a bit of a wander and a bit of a tasting we drove to Portnahaven – where the weather really closed in, it was about 14 degrees – so it was Renoir who bravely got out of the car and took photos of the half a dozen seals frolicking in the bay, then a cruisey, roundabout drive back to P’tellen.
The island of Islay is very interesting from a geographical point of view – it has its green bit, it’s sandy bit which reminds me a lot of places like Tuncurry and Forster on the NSW mid north coast; it has peaty bits (which of course is why it is whiskey heaven) and rolling green hills with sheep. It has seals, and lots of fabulous birds and in fact has been recognised as a place of scientific interest for its multitude of bird life.
Back to the White Hart for dinner – where Renoir went vegetarian – and apparently the mushroom stroganoff was just delicious. My Cajun chicken was also yummy, and we chatted to a Portuguese couple who were over as Joachim is a keen whiskey drinker. His English wasn’t very good – but hey, better than my Portuguese! And her’s was good, but they had real trouble understanding the waitress who spoke in a heavy Islay accent at 19 to the dozen! He ended up with scallops and black pudding – and it was the scallops he wasn’t so keen on as he doesn’t eat fish – but he manfully tried it and decided it was quite nice.
It was about this time I discovered that it’s quite acceptable on Islay for a lady to have water in her whiskey – so Renoir chose a nice single malt for me – and I think I have developed quite a taste for it!
Saturday 15 Juy - Islay
Ah, apparently Rhona also makes a mean potato cake and cooks delicious bacon – so Renoir had a good start to the day.
First we drove to Kildalton, to see a very early Christian Circle cross (about 600AD) in an old chapel thought to be 14th century. It was fabulous, although the chapel no longer had a roof, the walls were still in good repair, and there were a number of really interesting grave stones around, including a few slabs with knights carved into them – very King Arthur! There is also the curious thing – a cross just outside the churchyard called the ‘Thieves Cross’. It’s a wonderful mystery, with some telling the story that it is the grave of the priest who was murdered by Vikings because he wouldn’t tell them where the whiskey was hidden – but surely he would earn being buried in consecrated ground for that!
About this time the rain abated, and we even had patches of blue in the sky! So off to Ardbeg, the old Renoir family distillery. Although they are no longer there, you can see the place where the homes for the maltmen and their families and other workers used to be. We looked around, but the weather was clearing so beautifully we didn’t want to miss the chance to go back to Kilnaughton Bay and have our ceremony for Flora.
The trip itself was glorious, with sun shining through the woods and onto mossy stone fences; and we saw more seals on the way too – almost giving us their blessing with a flick of their tails.
The sun was peeking through the clouds as Renoir scattered her ashes into the bay she loved so much, and we had a wee dram of Ardbeg single malt in the Viking style leather goblets we had bought in York. The sun came out then, and bathed the island in its glow, so we knew she was happy to be home.
I was really pleased to see the sun too, as it changes the whole island completely – and what had been slightly desolate the day before turned simply glorious.
We explored the cemetery where it is thought many of the family are buried, and Renoir found some more gravestones that seem to fit his family tree. And although I have always found cemetaries nice, peaceful places to be (and mostly not menacing) I have to say it is slightly disconcerting to suddenly disturb a rabbit who comes bounding out from behind a gravestones, or under a slab to run away!
We then drove off to Bridge End and had a wonderful light lunch at the Bridge End hotel. The service was wonderful, and Renoir’s terrine of woodcock, partridge and venison was particularly fine; my cesaer salad of radicchio as the lettuce base change the whole look and taste of what is a standard favourite and it was delicious, topped off as it was by a guinea fowl egg! I just love the pubs in the UK – there’s always a surprise awaiting, and it’s usually a good one!
Then off to ‘The Centre’ at Bridge End, where there is a tiny brewery (the brewery itself is about the size of our loungeroom); a chocolate shop, art gallery, quilting centre and batik shop. It is also the site for Islay House for the gentry, and the Islay House garden – a community garden which is massive and full of wonderfully fresh fruit and veg – definitely somewhere to go for produce if you are doing a self-catering holiday on the island.
All this took us ages to explore – the weather was glorious, the people friendly, the batik – something that at first seemed so incongruous on Islay, is done by Liz Sykes by hand by on silk – scarves, art work for the walls, kimonos, ties – truly exquisite work.
We both had a siesta back at the B&B before chuffing off to B’more for dinner – we had booked about 7pm. It was most grand – first we were ushered into the conservatory to have a pre dinner drink and look a the menu. After ordering, you finish your drink then taken to your table where your entrée is brought out almost immediately. Renoir totally scored with black risotto & scallops, while my hot smoked trout was tasty, but not as good as the scallops. Then we both had lobster tail with whiskey butter – ooooh yum – I haven’t had lobster in years! This was accompanied by a very nice South African chardonnay called Tokana, a nice crisp fruity wine to balance the richness of the seafood.
Then I tried cranachen (pron cranak) for desert which is oats, mixed with whiskey and cream and raspberries, accompanied by a piece or two of shortbread – it was delicious but surely better for breakfast!
We then headed to the caleidh – which was fun – a band with key board, accordion, guitar and drums and singer all seemingly local had a very boisterous and supportive crowd dancing and singing along. And who should we run into but the barmaid who had served us that day in Bridge End – well it’s not a big island so I guess we shouldn’t be surprised – she remembered us and we chatted before leaving for home, readying ourselves for the trip to Glasgow the next day and falling into bed about 1230am.
Sunday 17 July – Islay to Glasgow
The day was wet, cold and windy – almost as is the sun had shone once and that was it, it had forgotten us again!
We breakfasted and hoped to visit the woolen mill, but Islay closes down on Sunday mornings for church, so off to Bunnahabhain (pron Bannaheaven) distillery – which was along a very winding, one lane road with a steep cliff off one side and a spectacular view. Well it would have been more spectacular if it hadn’t been raining so much! But hell, as they say, there’s no bad weather, just badly chosen clothes, so off we went. It really was pretty, but the wind was so strong it nearly blew Renoir off his feet, so back into the car and back along the one lane, winding road to the main road to take us to the ferry back at Port Askaig.
We were a bit early, and there is nothing at Port Askaig except a corner store (closed until about 1230pm – which was when we were due on our ferry) and a pub. So what else was there to do but have a wee dram and wait for the ferry? Nothing, so that’s what we did!
The ferry back, as I mentioned, was not the shining example of Polish craftsmanship, but the old ferry, and somehow more comfy. We settled ourselves in for a couple of hours without much to see because of the weather, and alighted back at Kennacraig to drive to Glasgow.
I love the country roads in the UK, and always feel a bit of sadness when coming back into a city – I think it’s too much like back to real life! But Glasgow surprised me – it has wonderful architecture, wide open streets – and it rained like no-one’s business when we arrived! Added to that was the street map I was using to navigate – you’d think you’d be pretty safe with a 2010 directory – well we were for the streets, except that Glasgow is a multitude of one way streets (not unlike Brisbane) and we discovered that many of these streets had changed their one way to the other way! Lots of fun.
The first evening was just a wander around the city – with a pub meal at The Goose – Renoir discovered a new cider (okay, I’ll take credit for it as I bought the drinks and it was one I didn’t think he’d had before – Gamley’s), and we had a bite to eat. The ‘gloaming’ lasts for ages, so it’s easy to gete waylaid by time if you’re not concentrating.
Next morning we had domestic duties to do, Laundromat, posting stuff home, buying a new phone etc.. all that takes time.
That evening, we were collected by Renoir’s cousin Willie who took us back to his place and he and his wife Rita gave us supper and Renoir and Willie talked family history until the cows came home. I was starting to worry that we were keeping them up late – and stated making “Well it’s time we were off” noises about 1015pm, but they would have none of it and poured another whiskey and chatted a while more and eventually Willie took us home just after 11pm – not bad for a couple who are nearly 80! A big thank you to Willie and Rita for such a lovely family filled evening!
As we were only there for a brief stint we didn’t explore that much of Glasgow except for the city, did a bit of shopping and basically explored – but it’s definitely one f those “gotta get back here” cities.
Leaving Glasgow we had set our sites on Chester, on Willie’s advice, as an overnight stop before Caenarfon, but our last stop in Scotland was Gretna Green - the place where the English used go for quickie marriages, and sometimes quickie divorces. It was our last gasp of Scotland and I have to say I can't wait until we return - I'm so looking forward to spending more time in this fabulously welcome and extremely beautiful; country.
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