Burry Holms

29^th October

Yesterday we hadn’t enough time between tides to take in the 2 islands either side of the Bay. Low tide was about an hour later today so we decided to walk to the tidal iron lighthouse before visiting Burry Holms. We could park in the village, Llanmadoc in a designated field (near the church) where there is an honesty box for the required £1.

We walked back down through the village, the opposite way from the Britannia Inn, until a junction when we went right between a holiday house and Cym Ivy café and crafts. The map is marked Cwm Ivy and just down from here we took a path on the right towards the National Trust Bunkhouse. A path down to the beach was closed. We walked under pines passing several dog walkers. On the right of the path was a bird hide overlooking the salt marsh. We learnt from another walker that this was only recently transformed from farmland by a breach in the sea wall. This had been used as farmland since the 17^th century but the walls are Medieval. The wood of the hide smelt new but unfortunately graffiti covered the shelves and paper designated for people to record wild life spotted here. Most people think it is the children who stay in the bunkhouse just a little way down the track. Another bird hide on the salt marsh opposite perhaps fared better. A pure white egret was the only bird we could easily spot without binoculars.

We were walking towards Whiteford Burrows with Berges Island in front of us. Bob thought the lighthouse to be at least another mile further than the island that is not an island but woodland. It was taking longer than we planned and we didn’t want to miss the window for crossing to Burry Holms. I wanted to see the only cast iron lighthouse in Europe but it was hidden either behind dunes or the trees. We had to retrace our steps back to the car park as our original planned route was longer. The walk had been lovely and I hated the time restrictions!

We drove several miles to Broughton Caravan Park and the visitor’s car park at the site entrance. From here we took a footpath at the left of the car park which eventually took us through the sand dunes and out onto the beach. It was quite a maze and not always clearly marked. We enjoyed the toadstools and furry caterpillars that played dead on the sandy path. Maybe they ate sea holly, for skeletons of the leaves were strewn about. We watched a red kite with its distinctive forked tail. We didn’t know they were this far from Pembrokeshire. It was a clamber up the dune to the top where we could see the beach below. Several people have had fires here with shells in the residual charcoal. We wish people wouldn’t dump their rubbish in beautiful places but at least it wasn’t spread about all over. Perhaps they were coming back for it!!!

 

 

 

The stones on the beach were lovely pastel shades of pink, blue, grey, green, and colours in between. We spent a while handling the smooth rounded pebbles and walking about a deeply embedded shipwreck where you could see most of the outline of the ship by the wooden parts left showing through the sand. Surfers were trying to surf on the feeble swell today. We think it is usually very good here judging by the numbers of surf boards we have seen.

 

Burry Holms is less than 100 yards from the shore. It was once an inland hill overlooking a large plain. It is a gentle mound in shape and much smaller than its counterpart at the other end of Llangennith beach. There was a bit of rock scrambling and it wasn’t very clear of the best route for climbing up on to the island. You could see the sign warning people to watch for the tides, but, to head for that looked too difficult. A narrow path had been made by some walkers and we followed that up to the top of the mound. It was grassy and still had some wild flowers even in late October. We didn’t see much sign of the ancient history attached to this place which dates to Mesolithic times. Flints have been found here from the Iron Age and remains of a hill fort can be discerned but we must have missed them.

At the seaward end, what could have been the concrete base for a gun or even a small cannon, made a round landmark. We needed to take care as the path was quite narrow in places and the sands with rough rocks around the island’s base would have made a nasty end in case of a fall.

We liked the island but it didn’t take long to walk it. The journey here was as much part of it and recommended. It looks like many people walk the cliff from Rhossili instead of the Caravan Park route but however you do it I am sure you get the feel that Burry Holms is quite remote.

 

 

 

 Worms head, Rhossili

28^th October 2016

We decided to take a couple of days break at half term to do the 2 islands off the Gower Peninsula. They didn’t entail taking a boat but access depends on the tides. Bob is still getting over pneumonia though he only knew about it once it was on its way out. The distances we would walk would be minimal……so we thought.

We stayed in a bed and breakfast on the Peninsula in a little village with a great community feel. People here take turns to run the community shop and café with cakes supplied by villagers, our B and B hostess included. Ann and David keep chickens and make silver jewellery. The house is full of David’s paintings and attractive pottery which was used for breakfast.

Today low tide is at 11.30 and we are OK to cross the causeway from 9.15 till 2.50. We left straight after breakfast. After watching a few Youtube clips I had decided that wind might be a problem here so we wrapped up warm. There is a National Trust car park near Rhossili village where members can park for free and this was almost empty when we arrived.

The morning weather was good, sunny and some blue sky. The views are stunning. A fantastic stretch of sand in the bay gives way to gentle surf today. This beach is popular with surfers. A few stick figures, from our elevated viewpoint, dot the beach and sea. Looking right as we walk towards the island a solitary white building set in the hill faces the Bay. The Old Rectory, of the 1850s, is owned by the National Trust for holiday lets (up to 7 people) We meet a handful of people going either way and feel relieved that we won’t be the only ones crossing today.

A murmuration of starlings catch our eye. Across the sands we can see the other island we will try to walk to tomorrow. Its causeway is still under water. A car passed us on the rough track with 2 uniformed people inside, heading for the coastguard’s lookout cottage. It is staffed by volunteers belonging to Coastwatch and as strandings are regularly occurring this manned outpost is vital. A board here confirms safe crossing time.

Worm in the context of the island's name is to do with the shape of the island and worm means dragon in a corrupted form of old English. It looks like a dragon looking out to sea here, though when we were on the island the head seemed to be not long after the causeway at the base of the hill.

We left the track for the grass beside the cliff edge, up towards the coastguard lookout and then followed the path down to the exposed rocks forming the causeway. We could hear seals calling and then see them at the base of the island ahead. As the tide isn’t yet out completely we have to pick our way carefully round large rock pools and the terrain is very up and down. It would be easy to twist an ankle. The rocks are encrusted with tiny mussels which helps to give grip to our walking boots. We think that though wellies might be drier the sharp edges would be felt through softer rubber. We have read that it usually takes fifteen minutes to cross the rocks.

 

 We thought it took us nearly an hour, though it was much quicker on the way back. There is no marked route so there are thousands of ways one can cross and obviously our outbound journey was not the quickest way. I couldn’t have managed without a helping hand from Bob as I teetered on one foot between rocks.

Across the sea was a band of dark and Lundy loomed on the horizon. We could see a few people on top of the Worms Back. Nearer the sea the rocks were more pebble like and flatter and here we passed a huge rusty anchor, a testament to turbulent seas.

We gratefully climbed onto the grassy bank and a path took us along the base of the island after we decided not to ascend the high ridge. We had hoped to get to the very end of the Worm where we could see the natural arch of the Devil’s Bridge and perhaps experience the Blow Hole. A lady sat on the grass watching her family on the rocks ahead. She had hurt her back on the way over and had decided not to risk crossing yet more tricky terrain. Bob was adamant we wouldn’t make it either so I tried to prove him wrong. The rocks are the result of pressure tipping the strata to an almost vertical angle and erosion made them rather jagged. Legs went down between the rocks and this was exhausting. To my right was the sea far below. Not for the feint hearted and wanting to get back in one piece we opted out, a bit disappointed.

As we walked back there was a large parasol fungus like a crepe on a stalk. People started passing by and there seemed to be a steady influx of visitors now- the sun must have brought them out. We were very warm. As we reached the dreaded rocks of the causeway someone said to look out for the seal stranded there. It was a little like looking for a needle in a haystack as we scanned left and right. Looking down, just as I was bemoaning the fact that we weren’t likely to find the creature, I jumped, as it was close enough to touch, right by my feet. It looked very sad, like they do, with still some of its pup fur covering its body. Too heavy to carry to the water it lay on the rocks, looking like its legs/ flippers were crossed, waiting for the tide to come in.

It probably took half the time coming back despite time seal watching. Back up at the Lookout the volunteers had a blazing fire going(Perhaps not needed today)  We couldn’t believe how many people were setting off so late as we walked back along the track (reputedly a mile from the Lookout to National Trust shop- but I would say more) The car park was full to the brim and we met guests from our B and B who said they had booked their lunch at the eatery here because it was so busy. We learnt later that it was self- service so why did they have to book? They weren’t impressed.

Anyway we loved the walk. I had Bob’s cake, homemade by Ann to go with our welcome-tea the night before, to eat as we walked. We had a rare close encounter with a baby seal. The scenery had been fabulous!

 

 

Friday August 5^th      Bardsey Island

 

We left Caernarfon soon after 8.30am for Aberdaron, one of the furthest points down the Llyn Peninsula, North Wales. We had booked ourselves onto the only boat that takes people out to the island nearly 2 weeks previously. Many had been cancelled and this week it seemed like our day was the only safe one for crossing due to high winds- Wednesday, Thursday and Saturday were and would be casualties to the weather.

We eventually reached Aberdaron with only a mile to go to the little “port”, Porth Meudwy. We thought we had plenty of time but the roads weren’t clearly marked and Aberdaron with its narrow old stone bridge was too much of a challenge for me at the end of a stressful drive, again down seemingly unlikely single track roads. Luckily a pedestrian gave us directions via the Tir Glyn caravan park. The boat would leave at 10.30 and we found ourselves in a field where we parked and then walked down a stony track still with no sign of the sea!

At last the tree clad slopes either side of the track gave way to a small inlet and we saw the yellow catamaran draw near to the shore. It came as far up as it could then Colin, the boatman got out and pulled it to dry land with a towing vehicle. He ticked off our names and refused payment till after we got back as he said it would be unlucky! There were 9 of us altogether. There was a man from Liverpool who knew his birds and the others all seemed to speak Welsh. They were a jolly crowd particularly the dairy farmer from Wrexham who wanted to see the monastery and didn’t like water!

We all screamed when the fibre glass boat built by Colin hit the waves and bounced along sending up spray, high at the sides though we didn’t get wet. The journey lasted 20 minutes. Though the island is only 2 km off the mainland we couldn’t go direct because of rocks and currents. Bob said I looked green but that was because I was scared of the boat tipping over and not because I felt seasick- maybe I have been to enough islands to have my sea legs. Colin said it can be a lot rougher and it was quite windy even today.

 

 

As we arrived people were swimming around the slip way and rocks beside it. Again the boat was dragged by a vehicle up to dry land where Colin put steps against it for us to disembark. We had 4 hours to explore Bardsey before we could leave at 3pm. Colin handed us all a map. Fingers crossed the weather doesn’t take a turn for the worst as in 2000 17 visitors were stranded 2 weeks on Bardsey because of gales!

The island has a pastoral feel to it. A group of dark coloured cattle grazed nearby. The fields are edged by mounds of stones now grassed over. We saw many sheep. Colin also has a bigger version of his passenger boat for transporting livestock.  

Clouds had given way to bright sunshine but with the wind we didn’t notice how strong the sun was. Not expecting the weather to be that good we hadn’t thought of sun protection though I could have used my brolly as a sun screen. We were generally unprepared – everyone else seemed to have sandwiches but we hadn’t brought anything to eat except a banana and a couple of biscuits thinking that as you could buy tea and coffee from the farmhouse that there may be some sort of food. The little craft shop, selling lovely but expensive things like felted bags and hats, had a container with flap jacks and biscuits and some cans of drink you could buy using an honesty box and that was it except salad ingredients from a well- stocked vegetable garden that were offered for sale.

The farmhouse has a wind turbine which is sufficient for their needs and for the few hours brews are available ( 11-1). After sitting at the picnic tables provided I definitely needed the loo- it had been a long journey, then on the water and then fluid intake. Trouble is the only public loo is probably about half a mile away. Still I was pleased there was one.

Many of the houses are holiday cottages. Bardsey Island Trust has owned the island since 1979. There are no TVs, radios, toasters, microwaves, pylons, telephone lines, satellite dishes or any mobile phone masts. There aren’t even many people though some guests stay 2 weeks at a time for years running. It must be hard to cater for a family when all your food has to be brought over on the boat and lack of electricity means fresh food will go off. I saw a lad with a sand eel in a jar, much fatter than those seen in the beaks of puffins. He said it tastes like sardine. Maybe they supplement what they have with fish they catch!

We decided that we wouldn’t walk up the hill, the Marilyn as opposed to the high Monros. A Marilyn (derived from Marilyn Monroe) is a hill of at least 150 m. Bardsey is just 1 mile long by 0.6 mile wide and is the 4^th largest offshore island in Wales.

As we walked a farmer was cutting and baling his grass for silage. The fields aren’t large. Apparently he is not going to make his own silage anymore as the cost of transporting the machinery isn’t viable.

The boatman has moved to the mainland with his young family but his poet and ex teacher mother still lives there. There is always an artist in residence and we saw some of her paintings on the wall of an exhibition house. The slates on the floor had strange green long leaf shapes- could they be fossils? The paintings were interesting- I remember fish on a plate and cats mainly. Also around the walls were photos of the resident islanders and a bit about them.

 

A hand- made sign directed visitors to the compost loo in a little hut. It was alcohol hand wash- water is precious. It wasn’t smelly!

The farmer from Wrexham was disappointed with the monastery which was just a ruin of the Bell Tower from the 13^th century Augustinian abbey. This was once a place of pilgrimage and some of the peaceful spirituality still seems to remain though the legend that 20,000 saints are buried here has got to be an exaggeration!

We followed a marked walk through fields. Tiny arrows gave us the confidence that we weren’t trespassing even though we were among the sheep. Then we were walking right by the coastline and a lone seal was playing in the water. It is a very pretty island!

Bob had a message on his phone to say “welcome to Ireland” so he switched it off. A little bird hide looked out to sea. Made substantially out of wood and splattered all over walls and ceiling with mosquitos it gave us a comfy sit down as the seats were cushioned. Perhaps people spot whales and dolphins from here. There is a wealth of wildlife.

As we neared the place where the boat came in we could hear keening sounds. In the bay before the lighthouse were seals basking on rocks, some fat with pups. While others floated or played in the water. Occasionally a fight would break out, as they jostled for a better spot. This is a haul out area with many seals at one time. They made a strange noise and you could imagine why the ancient mariners thought them to be sirens luring them on the rocks.

 

I walked to the lighthouse but Bob decided his back had done enough walking. It is unusual in that it is square in shape, tapering slightly to the top. Painted with red and white stripes it stands 98 feet high. Because of bird casualties there, Trinity House has positioned perches on top of the lantern- the lighthouse is on their migratory route. All is automatic and shut up now.

Apart from the little craft shop, exhibition house and bird hide there was nowhere to shelter from inclement weather that I could see. There were few if any trees- maybe in gardens.

It would have been good to have experienced a night or two here with clear skies as the lack of light pollution according to one” two - weeker” gave a wonderful starry panorama.

It was a little less bumpy on the journey back and we all paid our ferry fees of £30. Surprisingly we still didn’t feel hungry which was lucky! Next time we’ll bring supplies…

 

 Thursday 4th August       Ynys Gifftan                                                  

 

 

The sat nav took us off the fast road towards Portmaddog on almost single track, hilly, winding and across uninhabited high moors. The views were spectacular and I had to consciously concentrate so as to not be distracted as I was the designated driver for most of the 2 days away. Bob had been digging out a pond in the garden and this resulted in a strained tendon. This in turn made him walk awkwardly and put his back out. We almost cancelled the trip but then he thought he would make it after all.

  We were travelling first to Ynys Gifftan, a tiny island near to Portmaddog, then staying in Caernarfon before driving the Llyn Peninsula for Bardsey Island the next morning.

The best place to cross is about half a mile from Talsarnau Station where we parked the car. We saw a small group of people walking across the sand from the north and also a few from the south though. You could see there was less sand our way. The tide was right out when we arrived and there is a window about 3 hours either side. I believe I could see Harlech castle on the south side.

We crossed the railway line ( by which we noticed you could travel to Birmingham, surprising us somewhat) There was a stony but wide track that took us down to another gate and across what must have been fields but now is a maze of gulleys cut into the mud.

 

 

 

Some are deep with water, others too wide to leap across. Above is a lush grass but the whole area is a puzzle to solve if one doesn’t want to get uncomfortably wet. The grass here is reputed to have been used for the courts at Wimbledon, the quality is so good. We thought these rivulets were made by rain but then we noticed seaweed and shells and thought the tide must sometimes come this far. Wellies, to our mind, are essential. Some of the area is polluted with cow pats making the water foul.

It seemed to take for ages to either jump from tussock to tussock or climb down to wade through (though the water came over my wellies) pinpointing the easiest route to the sands. Bob and I took different routes both thinking ours the best. We looked back to see the white building of the station and decided that that would be the place to make for on the way back. This” marsh” as it is marked on the map is a wide area and featureless except for the fences and intricate veins of water set in the green field. This was far harder to cross than the causeway.

Reaching the sand there was a channel that apparently always need to be waded. Then it was virtually dry but soft sand that our boots sank right down into. There is a view of Portmeirion that could be seen from the start of this walk. This village built between 1925 and 75 in Italian style was used for the TV series The Prisoner in the 1960s.

We reached the island and walked up through the rocks to the bracken covered path. The island was gifted by Queen Anne in the early 1700s to Lord Harlech. She added a caveat that it should never be sold on. It is now owned by the 6^th Baron of Harlech and although there have been tenants the island is uninhabited now. The small house and garden can be seen amongst unkempt trees and foliage.

From the top we could see the Italianate buildings, colourful across the bay. It was impossible to walk far as the brambles, gorse and bracken dominated the island.

 

 

There was rusting farm machinery on the shore line and looking back towards the station were 2 egrets. A miniscule crab scrabbled in a puddle. We didn’t explore behind the island as rounding a bend the sand tried to swallow my boots. Also we knew the tide came in rapidly so we headed back in the direction of the station that stands out on the mainland being pure white. There is a gateway just to the left of, though not level with it, that leads up the lane , over the train track to the “car park”

  We tried to retrace our steps in the marsh but it was impossible to remember our previous routes. I slipped on the mud and had to be given a hand by Bob who was managing really well despite his back and leg. We were exhausted by the leaping about – at least I was- but we enjoyed it nonetheless. The adventure in this island is definitely in the travelling to and from it. It took us more than an hour and a half but less than two altogether and we were grateful for our waterproof boots.

 

 

Oronsay                  Thursday 9^th June

 

Colonsay and Oronsay are separated by a wide expanse of shell sand called the Strand. It would be safe to cross this when the tide is out enough, at 1pm today. We get to the crossing point just after this and there are several people collected here already. There is a small car park.A lot of people have ridden bikes and left them. Everyone seems to be waiting for someone to commit to going. We are the only ones crossing with a bike and it does look a little crazy as we, the first ones to go, step onto the beach.

 

The tandem leaves odd wheel prints on the sand. The wheels it seems are not aligned behind one another but cross each other’s paths making a thin figure of eight. Someone told us the next day they had followed our prints back from the island.

A lady from Morecambe Bay walked with us though she hasn’t done the 9 mile walk to Grange over Sands which we enjoyed a few years ago. At first the water was shallow enough to allow us to keep our shoes on. We were told to follow the tracks on the sand which we dutifully did but we noticed some people were walking right out and wondered why.

Bob said we were across and we came up onto some dry land.! The lady from Morecambe followed though at this point we were riding. A lady came out of her house and asked if we were visiting her. When we said no she wondered where we thought we were. She told us Oronsay was way over where we had seen other people walking. It was a good job we didn’t have much of a following. The Strand was much larger than expected and the tracks had misled us. The postman had visited the lady who was on an inaccessible bit of Colonsay ”mainland”, and left us false tracks.

There was still a long way across the sand to go. It was bumpy, puddled sand with many worm-casts. Later there were large expanses of water and a lot of seaweed looking like a small variety of bladder-wrack. Bob took his shoes and socks off but I held out till it was clear that I would get wet inside my shoes if I didn’t. Now the sand was peppered with sharp stones and bits of shell, cockles and mussels. I saw tiny shrimp like creatures- maybe krill- and small crabs. The seaweed was slippery and it was hard picking our way across for probably best part of 1½ miles.

We came up onto some rocks at last and then there was a track we could ride though it was stony. It took a while to clean off the sand but the path seemed good all the way to the monastery ruin. (We had hoped to ride around the island but the RSPB rent the area past the ruin from the American lady who owns the island. Other paths seemed to be private too though maybe it would be possible to visit seal island in the Autumn when the seal pups are there- can be up to 1,000.) The population here is only 5 to 6 people.

 It was maybe another couple of miles and the ruin at Colonsay Farm came into view. It was free to walk around though there are no facilities here at all. At the entrance is a tall 3.7 metre celtic cross featuring a relief of the crucifixion and an older small monastic sign with a figure of a monk.

The buildings that have been in existence since 1353 and maybe founded by the Lord of the Isles, are fascinating.  The place has a peaceful atmosphere. It’s a shame some of the stones were removed to build the farmhouse. Gruesomely some human bones are kept by the high altar in the chapel.I liked the miniature cloisters.  

 

Both the farm and priory cum monastery are well looked after. Someone was mowing the grass when we were there. The farm buildings are immaculate and the round barn is especially interesting.

 The views of Jura and Islay from the area are lovely on this sunny day. A peacock struts through the farm behind the ruin and 3 ducks that looked totally black inside the ruin but in the sun they shimmered green, blue, black and brown. I couldn’t find a match on the ‘net.

After an abortive attempt at trying to find seal island, off beside the flat fields that used to be a landing place for planes, we headed back for Scalasaig. It would take at least an hour.

Bob kindly pushed me through the watery bits on the bike so I didn’t have to get my feet wet. A crab swam underneath but we managed to miss running it over. On rocks that would soon be surrounded by sea, oyster catchers were being harassed by gulls. The gulls must have been after the chicks of the agitated oyster catchers though we couldn’t see a nest. We left them having a staring match! At the end of the causeway there were mounds of tiny pink flowers- really pretty.

It was worth the trek we thought. The tide would turn at 3.30 and we were back at the hotel waiting for dinner at 4. We had a drink of the local beer and socialised some more after visiting the local church which had a small art exhibition.

Colonsay

Wednesday 8^th June, after a night in a lovely Band B on Oban’s esplanade, we left on the 3.30 ferry for Colonsay. Fog horns on the incoming ferries had woken us several times in the night and they sail really close to the house as they come alongside Kerrara to the port. We couldn’t see Kerrara or out to sea when we looked out in the morning but the fog slowly burnt off through the day with sun over Oban at least. We visited Oban’s museum and had a big meal for a late lunch in case there wasn’t any food on the 2½ hour trip to the island.

This morning we had spent a while watching a crazy canoeist in the fog, paddling down the ferry lanes. He would have been invisible to a large boat! Then here he is complete with numerous bags, wet suits drying off, canoe and paddles waiting beside us to be let on to the ferry to Colonsay, which would later arrive on Islay, his destination. I wondered how he would manage. In the end I carried some bags, he pushed his canoe on a trolley affair and then some Calmac employees joined the entourage. Bob pushed our tandem. We were glad that he was safe. He was going to canoe to a bothy on Islay but it will be quite late then. It doesn’t seem to get dark for long if at all here though.

Some ferries had been cancelled and it was still foggy at sea with more drones of the fog horn. It would have been nice to dolphin watch! The boat travels at 16 miles per hour according to the sat. nav. in Bob’s pocket. It is a lot cheaper to travel without the car- just £14 each return and the tandem went free.

We sit on deck for a bit watching the misty mountainous scenery of the islands, passing by the northern end of Kerrara where the monument to David Hutcheson, a founder member of Caledonian MacBrayne ferries, dominates. No boat services go here from Oban pier as they used to.

It was out into the Firth of Lorn and past Mull until the sea just around us was all that we could see, the visibility was so poor.

 

We arrived at Scalasaig around 6 o clock to blue skies and sun surprisingly. A welcome pack was exchanged for our boarding passes and we set off up a steep hill. At the top Bob realised we’d missed a right turn by the ferry because cars waiting to board had been queuing here obscuring the road. There weren’t many but enough. Every time a car drew near we moved to one side, as the roads ( with surfaces better than our local ones I might add) were only a car width. The island had plenty of cyclists going and coming.

 

The views were superb. Later mysterious mists swirled over a lake and there were long spells without habitation. Past Colonsay House, visited the day of departure and abundant fuchsia covered in buzzing bees, we came to Kiloran Bay with its beautiful white sandy cove. In Gaelic this means cave of the grave dust. Although the sun was still shining, mists were creeping across the beach towards us.

 

Our next written direction for the B and B was to pass the bins- no mention of the fantastic beach below! This was followed by some steep hairpin bends which we walked! There was a collection of a few houses then further round was our B and B that was enveloped in mist. Our host, Roger, said it had been like this all day and he was unaware that the sun shone less than a mile away!

There was a guest’s sitting room which made it a sociable place. As we sat chatting with a nice couple from Orkney, who wanted to see how other islanders “did it”, a baby thrush fell in front of the window then tried to get through the glass. There were many thrushes about but the most exciting bird was the corncrake. Maybe we were less enchanted when it called repeatedly through the night from the rough meadowland bordering the garden. We tried unsuccessfully to see one whenever we heard its “crux crux” call. There are no animal predators here like foxes, stoats, weasels but rabbits seemed to be considered a pest. They were introduced few hundred years ago for fresh meat for the islanders.

 

 

The purple orchid was all over the garden. Colonsay is rich in plant life -500 species of flora!

We hadn’t seen much of the B and B’s location because of the mist but in the morning sun shone on spectacular sea views from our window. Another bird we heard was the clocklike sound of the snipe.

After a hearty breakfast we set off on the only road going the other way round from the route last night which meant going straight on instead of forking left near Colonsay House. Buzzards were hunting as we went by another lake with cotton grass islands. We found a small museum in a little wooden building with 2 rooms. One side seemed to concentrate on war history while the other contained rock examples and was more on the area’s geology. The island’s school had designed a geological treasure hunt using photos of rock formations to find. The children had made their own illustrations and written how different rocks were formed and I thought it worth adding to the coin collection on the table.

 

We went down into Scalasaig( the hill we went up by mistake on leaving the ferry) and visited the Post Office where they will confirm the tide times for you for visiting the tidal island of Orinsay. We reckoned we could cross just after 1pm. We ate lunch at the Pantry, just left from the ferry. Their supplies hadn’t come in so we didn’t have too much choice. It seemed expensive but they were nice people who have gone to great lengths to make disabled people comfortable – the toilet had a soft back to lean against! They sold touristy things and we succumbed to a Colonsay tea towel. They sell local honey which I am told is fantastic but it costs £11 a jar and it probably wouldn’t travel that well with us!

After booking a table at the Colonsay Hotel for dinner we set off back until we could see the hill fort, Dun Eibhinn on our right. This was a royal residence in the 11^th century and a seat of Viking power.

Clan Macfie had possession of it in the 13^th century. In 1623 after the chef of the clan was killed it was abandoned to become a ruin. It is a fine landmark and not far from here we made a left turn towards the causeway for Oronsay. It was up a fair way and the road wound round for about 3 mile.

It wasn’t clear where the island actually began from the land masses round us but the instructions were to follow the tracks across the sand. Oronsay warrants a blog to itself….

 

 

 

 

 

We were tired after the expedition and made our way back to Scalasaig for our meal. The cuckoo on the telephone wire sounded like it was mocking us as we took the hill back to the “main” road.

As we had booked our table we assumed that our place would be at one marked reserved. This was not the case as we were moved from our original choice by a zealous waitress from somewhere East of Germany. Our next choice wasn’t right either which was becoming quite irritating especially as we were the only ones there. Then the couple from our B and B came in and they also sat at our first choice of table and were moved like us. For the whole of our meal there were only 3 couples there! Admittedly we ate early. Anyway the food was good and promptly served- haddock chips and peas and I had a lovely crème brulee rhubarb and shortcake for my sweet but I felt guilty as Bob didn’t want the goats cheese cheeseboard (only thing sugarless). He did enjoy the Colonsay IPA beer though which is made just up the road. They have a shop at the Brewery but visitors aren’t able to go round it.

We arrived back about 8pm after going the less hilly long way round. All the guests were watching Spring Watch companionably.

The corncrake made some noise for a short while which encouraged us to keep the window closed- it was hot!

Friday morning started grey with mists starting to form. Roger was closing his B and B for a week and he was travelling to Glasgow after leaving on the same ferry as us and the couple from Troon. He offered to take our bags but you never know when you might need something and the tools weighed the most!

We set off North hoping to see something of the golden eagle and its chick. We had to go through several farm gates and cattle with calves were milling round so we didn’t linger being able to ride the first part of the route. The track goes across the dunes beside Kiloran Bay. Bob pushed the bike through thick sand for about 1½ miles. At the 2^nd gate we left the bike attached to the fence post- though so unnecessary.

The view of the Bay was lovely. We were then walking between rocks split by weathering. Looking up I saw a goat with what looked like heather hanging from its mouth. There are 40 wild goats on the island thought to have descended from those left from shipwrecks of the Spanish Armada. They looked very large one was sandy with brown and white while another spotted nearby had a black head. We had a staring stand off and the goat won. On the way back we saw others with kids on a rocky outcrop.

Despite not seeing the eagle we thought it worth the excursion but it should be walked!

Our next destination was Colonsay House which has a lovely small tea room with freshly made cakes and soups with homemade bread which we had to experience. It was the best food on the island especially the rhubarb, almond and elderflower gateau. We saw several people we have met at other places on the island and the other couples from the B and B both arrived so there was another sociable hour spent. The gardens open on Thursdays at 12. It cost £2.50 to explore them. The house was built in 1722 by Malcolm MacNeil but it is partly converted to holiday flats. We met a lady staying there while crossing to Oronsay who said she still had to pay to visit the garden even though her bedroom overlooked it. We only had a good impression of the place which felt relaxed to us. Many of the trees were very old and bewhiskered with lichen. The old fashioned roses smelt wonderful and the whole setting seems romantically planted rather than formal. We found the carved stone depicted in the museum) with a monk carved one side while the other side is phallic which demonstrates how people kept faith with Christianity and the pagan-hedging their bets!

 

 

We met another couple “doing” islands, mostly Scottish, who came from W.Yorkshire. There are very limited things to do on the island so having places to chat with other folk is important.

We came back to the port at 4pm, walking on the hills. Mist was over the reservoir again.

Then the rain came so we had a pint or 2 in the hotel. They are very good at making everyone welcome. Where else could you sit playing cards on really comfy leather settees with a drink for hours- they even lent us the cards! It is a smart hotel and we are in cycling gear.

 The ferry doesn’t leave till 7 so we won’t be back at the B and B in Oban till nearly 10. Luckily we were trusted with our room key which means we don’t have to disturb anyone and we will have a seaview room too.

 We taught the couple from Toon cribbage after buying a packet of cards- to help the time go faster and to keep 2 of us from thinking about the motion of the boat as I had lost my wrist bands and the other lady is more travel sick than me. As it was, the crossing was as flat as a pancake with the fog horn going off periodically again.

It had been a good trip!

 

 

Kerrara

Tuesday 7^th June after visiting Easdale we drove to Oban and parked as near to the Gallanach ferry     ( 3 km south of the town) as we could. After building the bike the ferry would run next at 12.30 and then there would be a break till 2pm. A bill board has a sliding back black signal to summon the ferry which sits on the Kerrara side of the water.

 A young lady turned up who confirmed that the ferry is running. She works with her sisters on a sheep farm on the island and today they would be busy inoculating the lambs. She said that the church building opposite used to be the island’s school and she and her sisters were the only pupils then when her sisters left for senior school in Oban, she was the only one left. After she left the island school closed. At 31 she has lived on Kerrara for all but 6 months of her life and she loves it. She didn’t like being in Oban for 5 days a week for her schooling but the ferries didn’t run in the winter and the times weren’t right for school timetables-it was easier to stay over. The ferry duly comes and it takes less than 5 minutes.

Kerrara is beautiful with lovely views. It is very green and the short bracken gives it a soft texture which makes it look inviting and friendly. It is a steep hill up from the boat. Islanders cars are parked here as the tracks are not suitable, sometimes only little more than a footpath. Some doubt is cast on the practicalities of the tandem but Bob is sure we’ll manage. It is really an island for walks!

A quad bike with our fellow passenger’s sibling and several dogs, transports her to the sheep farm and we see her several times around the island. Around the point where we have to choose a direction there is a farm with squealing infants enjoying the day with animals. After this we hardly see anyone for several miles. Signs tell us that the hills are more gradual if we take the right hand track which we do. We can ride some but we often have to get off for lumpy rocks or deep ruts making progression difficult. Bob gamely pushes.

 We enjoy the wild flowers- wild roses, meadow sweet and honey suckle. This could be a fun track for mountain bikers but our tandem seemed to run best on the grassy bits which were more even. At one point we seemed to go down the path of a stream that could have been a waterfall in rain. Some parts would have been really muddy but today they were mostly parched hard and dry by the  mid- 20 temperatures of the last few days. Today it was a bit cooler and the midges were biting- or maybe it was a horse fly that bit me as my arm reacted with a raised red weal unusually for me!

A fairly remote little cottage had a stall set up with various hand- made soaps for £4 each. There was an honesty box- where were all the people? I bought one made with wild thyme that grows on the island and a rose scented geranium one. Nearby a bloody sheep’s horn lay on the path which puzzled us. Had it been torn off?

It wasn’t so much further to the teashop passing 2 Geology students studying rocks- a fine example of conglomerate. Then a handful were on the beach and we heard hammers so perhaps they were looking for fossils. The island had absorbed most of the group though as we didn’t see any till now. They are completing a survey of the island’s rocks never done before in such detail!

We passed the turreted 16^th century Gylen Castle- castle of the springs- on a rocky hill. The springs under the castle provided fresh water for its inhabitants. The famous brooch of Lorn said to have belonged to Robert Bruce was kept here until looted during the Covenanting Wars in the 17^th century by Campbell of Inverawe. In 1825 the brooch was presented back by a descendant to the MacDougall family who owned the castle.

Ahead of us in a field we see a Bell Tent with a stove chimney poking from its centre. It is on a wooden platform and is connected to the teashop. Anyone can rent it if they wish. The teashop is really just a tea garden. The house is private. It was nice to sit for a drink and a sandwich although it has to be said that we have had fresher.

 In sheds next door the shepherdess and her sister were busy injecting young sheep. There was a lot of bleating going on. The tea garden toilet is labelled” a room with a view” and has a window seaward. There is a barn to sit in if it rains. This is the point where we saw the most people and they had walked the other way along the shore route to get their refreshments- it is less distance this way. All the way back there were advertisements for the teagarden in the shape of ceramic teapots and mugs in bright colours stuck to gateposts.

At Little Horseshoe Bay there was a lovely beach but unfortunately there was a dead sheep laying there. It seems like this is something that happens often and according to the ferry lady it has been there several days. This really surprised us as farmers would usually have to dispose of the bodies. This may be good for the buzzards living here!

We caught the boat back at 3.30. Despite the seemingly callous regard for dead livestock we really liked this island. It was a beautiful 6 or a little more, miles, ride/walk. The path had petered out once and Bob took us across a field in the right direction by using the OS map so having one at hand is useful.