I'm off tomorar.....

[percy toboggan]

and the next seven days will be spent on that idyllic little village of the white sand just down the road from charming Mallaig. I shall be Scottish for a week and dream of a kind of permanence. One day, one day.
The Road to the Isles is a long one from here - 380 miles but the last 40 is the best bit ! (apart from Glencoe)
The island vistas are pure magic, we'll do some hopping in the inner Hebrides. Weather seems set fair but we welcome some choppy seas. We'll take whatever nature throws at us and be thankful we are in the best surroundings God (if there is one) ever designed. 80/- Ale at the Back of Keppoch beckons.

Yes, I rather like it.
Have fun in the meantime.

[sam]

hope you have a great time percy and have plenty of tales to tell when you get back :lol:

[Murchiemannie]

Have a great holiday. think the highlands of Scotland are absolutely magnificent but then...I am a bit biased being a born and bred Wicker.
Can't say I'm not just a teensy weensy bit jealous, just hope you have some lovely weather and then WOOPEEE! .........
Have Fun and enjoy.

[canuck]

Come on Murchiemannie, be like me and admit that you are a whole lot jealous! Have fun Percy and enjoy that little bit of God's country.

[cuddlepop]

Its a beautiful place that your going to ,the sun sets are just the best.Forecast for the weekend is good too and the dreaded midge is on the decrease.Have a great holiday Percy.:D

[footie chick]

Have a great time and avoid the remaining midgies at all cost I hear marmite & garlic is a good deterrent ;)

[orkneylass]

Go that extra mile sometime and come over to the northern isles - magic. Big pink moon tonight....

[lassieinfife]

Have a fantastic holiday . hope the weather and local pub landlord kind to you:D

[Elenna]

Have a wonderful holiday, Percy. We'll be waiting to hear all about it when you get back :).

[Tom Cornwall]

but will it be as good as a weekend in Lybster

[percy toboggan]

:)

Holidays are big deals in our house. Vital islands in a working year of nose to the grindstone mediocrity and commitment. True, the grindstone these days is not too abrasive, or demanding but commitment to rising early (late for some!) still takes its toll on ones free spirits. The parts of a person which need to just kick back and do what you really want to do for a few days at least. Not that we’re particularly active lately either. A good walk only occasionally replaces a scenic drive or an open mouthed gawp at something stunning, like a sunset.

Each jaunt seems cost the thick end of a thousand quid and that’s just for a week. We no longer cram obligingly into a pencil steel metal tube with windows the size of dinner plates in search of the sun.

Since we toured western America in a mustang the med just cannot cut it for us anyway. We’ve done all that and the tee-shirts lie mostly unworn in drawers , or are used to buff up our old motor.

Much of the cost is of course siphoned off by petrol. Given our latter penchant for trips to all points north I should really invest in a miserly mini Toyohonduki diesel, but we can’t compromise on comfort. Our particular red bus might be twelve years old, but she’s ageing gracefully and who ever owned her before hardly stretched her metaphoric legs.

So we do without a few things, like the new three piece suite we need, ( it’s such a good job we chose black leather all those years ago ) or replacing the resilient but twelve year old carpet. Life on a budget requires compromise. As much as new furniture can lift the spirits, it cannot compete with a Highland fling.

So, Oh! The sheer joy of it all as we struck out for the third holiday this year north of the only border that means anything to me.
This time our daughter and grand-daughter were with us, returning once more to the shores of Loch Morar, where we all enjoyed a fine holiday at the height of last summer.

This autumn’s trip was always going to be a gamble with the weather, but whenever one goes to Scotland you have to treat good weather as a welcome bonus. In truth we have seldom been disappointed.
Our temporary home bordered on the luxurious and was stuffed with creature comforts, the finest one being the view from the upstairs window of Loch Morar, the deepest freshwater lake in Europe I understand. Reputedly the home of ‘Morag’ the monster, all grist to the imagination of a three year old, and even an old duffer like me. For some reason the man mad ‘waterfall’ at the village end had been stemmed. The only water escaping into the short river was gushing through a two foot pipe.

Second favourite spectacle was the nightly swooping of bats around the property at twilight, all very different from our suburban homes on the fringes of a northern English city , and no less interesting for all that . Nocturnal movements around here need to be viewed with more suspicion. Blessedly, there are not many.

The glorious powder sand beaches of north-western Scotland are all but deserted at this time of year. The sea is actually blue, unless it is a clear shade of translucent green, either way it might even be welcoming. I shunned a paddle but aforementioned three year old was well up for it with her Mum.

The fishing boats in Mallaig , at least those remaining in the harbour at nine ‘o clock on a Monday morning lent atmosphere to our dock side stroll. Long gone are the hundreds of grafters who would gut the Herring. The ‘silver darlings’ famous in print and song which dominated this purpose built port in the earlier part of the last century.

Now the boats are few , yet no less interesting to the eye of a layman fascinated with many things maritime. They appear well worn and entirely functional. Crafts for hardier souls than I to eek out a living which can be erratic. Sometimes good, sometimes not so good, against the backdrop of a constant threat of natures fickle yet powerful barometer.


On the days when the downpours stayed away we thrilled to the joys of ‘Camusdarrach’ beach. This is surely more than equal to anything Florida, or anywhere else on the planet can come up with. If you have never been please address this gap in your life I beg you, but don’t all go at once. I estimate about thirty people might read this, and if you did then the sands would be at their most crowded ever, certainly in my experience !
When skies are mostly blue, yet clouds scud in from the south and west the ever changing light is quite breathtaking. Those islands in the near distance form a bulwark, a natural breakwater if you like to the Ocean and the water is seldom angry. Lapping timelessly onto the pristine powder sand.

On second thoughts, don’t visit, (he implored selfishly) just buy the movie ‘Local Hero’ for this is where the beach scenes were filmed.

We noticed how many new house building projects are springing up around the old coast road now. These can be counted on the fingers of two hands but still represent a change of demographic. Conversations with one such housebuilder revealed a massive surge in land and house prices. It seems the immediate area is now the preserve of millionaires - which these days often means people with very well paid jobs. Surgeons and the like - good luck to them, but our dream of living here will probably never be realised.
Many of these houses stand empty for months on end, which does little to preserve community. I shall leave the politics in abeyance for now , as Balamory beckoned.

Yes, it seemed an obvious choice to visit Tobermory, now regarded with affection by hundreds of thousands of tots and toddlers. Our little one has never rated it too highly though , preferring less humanoid creatures like ‘Fimbles & Tweenies’ in her all to brief infancy. Now she’s all of three though, and entirely more circumspect, a brief look at the location was in order, especially as ‘gah-gag’ (Grandad) seemed so very keen. My prime motivator was the drive out to Kilchoan and the short ferry hop. It was raining as we boarded and the sea , whilst not churning was simmering at least and the white caps on the waves lent at least a measure of credibility to my pioneering mood.

The ‘Jacobite’ steam train is another summer time ‘must see’ in the area between Fort William and Mallaig. We chose Glenfinnan station yet left the decision until rather late in the morning .A hectic dash the wrong way back up the ‘road to the isles’ and we pulled into the meagre car park as the first distant chuffs and puffs could be heard from the east, the train was traversing the famous viaduct and was trundled into the station thirty seconds after we emerged onto the platform. Marvellous stuff. We made straight for the business end as the smells and the steam transported me back to another age, and made their impressions on a wee lassie too. Great wheels of steel twice her size and the gear that moves them, slick with oil . Up close and at eye level . Fascinating. A real Fred Dibnah moment.

Later, and in a moment of madness I decided to pay to climb the ‘Highlander’ monument, dedicated to the 1745 rebellion from which the train takes its’ name. A mere forty foot high yet no easy matter. It’s a very narrow spiral stone stairway. Two bulky cameras and the tiny hatch at the top meant it was difficult to squeeze through and required thought and planning. Neither are a strong suit of mine any longer when it comes to physical exertion. I was relieved nobody else was up there to hear my cursings and gruntings as I heaved myself up to the tiny platform visitors share with the fine statue. A fine view of Loch Shiel was reward enough and it was all of several seconds before thoughts of my method of descent clouded it somewhat. I was glad no-one joined me in the meantime, and I could huff and chunner my own way down.


The holiday bed was playing havoc with me buttocks! It’s all down to arthritic hips, which left me waking several times each night feeling I’d been kicked in the arse by a donkey ! By Thursday I couldn’t see the sense in lying in bed much beyond dawn, and decided to take a walk by the shores of Loch Morar. What a treat. As the sun rose in the east the mountains fringing the loch were reflected in the still, glass like waters. A visual feast, and I managed to take some stunning photographs.

The evenings , relaxing in cream leather comfort quaffing red wine & chatting. The bedtimes when you do not have set the alarm clock. Bliss. The excellent meals in Mallaig and at the splendid Café Rhu in Arisaig. All contributed to a wonderful week away, another niche in the memory to savour. I’m so glad I filmed some of it . My porous brain needs a hand in this direction too. Writing an account also helps in this regard , thanks for reading it.

Where are we going next year? More ‘vital’ islands for 2007 ? You bet. They will probably be Scottish ones ! Barra has already been mentioned. May you have happy holidays too, and many of ‘em.

P.S. Back home now to my own bed. There are a dozen houses within fifty yards of ours and already I’m feeling pangs for Caledonia. My one indulgence - a ‘Runrig ‘ dvd for twenty quid - I hesitated, foolishly - has helped a lot. Superb music and entirely in context to stave off those pangs just a little.

[sassylass]

sounds like a lovely trip, thanks for sharing it.

[Wish]

I really enjoyed reading your holiday account Percy:cool:

[sam]

really enjoyed hearing about your trip, sorry to hear the beds were crap and gave you a sore butt, hope its better soon;)

glad to hear you had a great time otherwise:D

[Errogie]

The memories from a good holiday always outlast spending on any of the usual consumer items. A persons value can sometimes be measured by the possessions he can live without!