Moving on to Scotland

​                It was the last morning in Ireland and we had the chance to have an all you can eat breakfast at the Railway Hotel, in Sligo, so that’s what we did, we ate all we could before catching a bus to Belfast. From there we caught a ferry to Cairnryan, Scotland, followed by a taxi to Stranraer where we found a B and B and plopped into bed.  Travel days are exhausting but the next morning we weren’t through as we continued by bus, then train, to Glasgow.  The city of Glasgow was too crowded and chaotic for us so we pushed on to Oban where we could catch a ferry to the Outer Hebrides, a series of islands off of the northeast coast of Scotland.   The next morning we had a few hours in Oban before the ferry left so we hiked up to McKreig’s Tower, a smaller replica of the Roman Coliseum.  From this vantage point we could see the whole town including the harbor and ferry port.

McKreig's Tower

Looking out from McKreig's

Overlooking Oban

​                After our hike we made our way down to the ferry which was huge.  On-board we settled in and spent most of our time reading as it was so foggy and rainy with no view and the trip took several hours.  We landed on the Isle of Barra at Castlebay where Mary had booked a site at a campground equipped with a kitchen and gathering space.  We shopped at a small store where the two workers were shelving groceries that had also come in on the ferry. One of the men called us a local taxi and we continued on to the campground where we set the tent up in the rain.  “Well, we could at least dry off in the kitchen-gathering space while we cook dinner”.  The building was small and contained the bathrooms, kitchen, laundry room and a gathering space, which had just enough room for two stools.  The kitchen we were so excited about was so small and had no stove, instead it had an egg cooker and a George Forman mini grill, both with instruction on how to use.   There was also a sink but no room to spare.  Luckily we were the only ones camping out in a tent and with our food prep and wet clothing we took over the space.  Everyone who stopped in from their campers, to use the bathrooms or laundry room, talked to us while we sat on the two stools.  They were indeed happy to know they all had campers and space of their own.   Needless to say it was an early night, of camping in the wind and rain.

​                We were up early to figure out what we were going to do.  There were no inexpensive accommodations.  The local hotel was charging $200 a night, and camping was proving to be difficult.  Mary was set on renting a VW van for 3 days to give us a reprieve from the wind and rain so by taking a bus and then hopping on a ferry we crossed over to the ferry port on the Isle of Eriskay where we were schedule to pick up the van.  We arrived hours before the pick up so we hid our backpacks at the ferry port and started a long uphill walk to the Politician Pub which has a certain amount of fame.  Years ago the ship ‘Politician’ ran aground in this area with a load of whiskey and the locals salvaged the cargo.  A movie recently came out, Whiskey Galore, a remake of an older movie describing the whole event.  We never reached the pub but instead stopped by the community center-grocery store-post office.  While having a cup of coffee Mary contacted the van company to make sure everything was set.  It was then we found out that the one of two vans that the company owned had to be overhauled and they were sorry to cancel.  Katrianna, the manager who ran the center-grocery store-post office, offered to help us figure out what to do.  First she drove us us back to the ferry port to pick up our backpacks, then she took us to a coop grocery store, and finally she dropped us off at the Howmore Hostel, near where she herself lived on the island South Uist. On our ride Katrianna described many of the positives, as well as the negatives, of the area; such as the rural lifestyle, the difficulty in making a living, and the lack of amenities. She drove right up to the hostel door, a very old, whitewashed building looking like it was out of a movie.  Katrianna was such an angel.

The castle at Castlebay

One of the many ferries that transported us around Scotland

The beaches at the Howmore Hostel

​                The Howmore Hostel was incredible.  The main bunkhouse had a thatched roof and the well-equipped kitchen was in an old stone building, a former black house.  Black houses were ancient houses which had open fire pits in the center with the smoke rising up through a hole in the roof.  The inside of these houses would turn black due to the smoke and thankfully they are no longer in use.  We decided to camp rather than sleep in the bunkrooms and so we set up our tent right up to the side of the building for protection from the approaching storm.  The hostel was lively place with Alan and Brian, two college professors from Scotland (interested in unions), Margaret, an English woman who worked in the post office, two bicyclists from France, a man from Canada, Phil, from England, and Isfred, a physicist who worked on particle accelerators and lived in Germany.  Everyone was planning to stay for a couple of nights since there was a major storm passing through so with plenty of time to get to know each other, we meandered to our tent for an early night.  When we got outside the wind was whipping so in the dark we moved everything to another, more sheltered side of the building.  After a long and tiring day it was great to finally lie down.  In the middle of the night however, the flapping of the tarp in the fierce wind and the pouring rain woke us up.  We jumped out to cut the ropes holding the tarp and made sure everything was secure before racing back into the tent soaking wet and hoping for the best.  In the morning we heard the winds and rain were going to increase so decided our days of camping at Howmore were over, and we moved inside.  We spent the day visiting a local museum and hiking the beach by the hostel.  

Looking out from the hostel

One of the many churches in the area

Mary enjoying our time on the beach

The bunkhouse and kitchen of the Howmore Hostel

The bunkhouse of the hostel

The bunkhouse was to block the wind

​                It was that evening that was so memorable to me.  I began to realize how important Scotch Whiskey is, but first I had to get use to the taste so I bought a pint to share with others at the hostel.  After dinner a group was sitting around the table talking and the topic of whiskey came up and I brought out my pint.  Facial reactions told me I had bought a sub-standard whiskey; however, they all recovered and told me it was ok.  It was then the whiskey lesson began as others pulled out their bottles.  Is it peaty with a smoky taste or lighter, what kind of aging barrel was used, is it double or triple distilled, is it single malt or blended, and how long was it aged?   As we sampled the different whiskeys (actually no one wanted to sample mine) we talked about folk music, rock and roll and blues, we talked about politics and how unions stood up for the workers, about hiking in the area, and fishing.  The topics were as varied as the different whiskeys on the table and by now whiskey tasted pretty good. As the evening wore on I realized that I had to figure out the bus schedule for the next day.  Mary and I wanted to see some ‘standing stones’ which were on the way to the island of Berneray (north of Howmore) where we were headed next.  The schedule was really confusing because there were different days, different seasons, school days and school holidays, maybe call ahead, names of places on the map, as well as places not on the map.  I don’t know if the whiskey had anything to do with it but everyone at the table had a different idea of what time we had to get on the bus.  I finally came to the conclusion we had to get on the bus at 8:30 am, or as they say in Scotland, at half eight.

Ruins of an old monastery at Howmore

The monastery included the cemetery

The morning we left Howmore started out with sunshene

​  After the night’s sleep the morning brought us sunshine as we packed up and finally we were ready for our walk to the bus stop … in the horizontal rain!  It turned out that this bus was a school bus, and the driver allowed us on and dropped us off at the school where we boarded another school bus.  As we rode along Mary struck up a conversation with two boys who were in the 5th grade.  Mary told them we were going to the ‘standing stones’ and they both told us that we had to visit the forest next to the ‘stones’.  They continued to tell us about ‘Hercules the Bear’ who had escaped and lived in the forest and how the people living in the surrounding area took care of the bear. The people really loved Hercules and after he died they erected a statue in his honor.  They also shared that they had American pen pals from Michigan and Mary gave them each a Kennedy half-dollar.  After leaving the children off at the school the bus dropped us off at the tiny local hospital where we waited in the cafe for an hour for the next bus. When the bus arrived I asked the driver if this was the bus we wanted to take to see the ‘standing stones’ and after he finished telling us I asked him if he could repeat what he said.  I turned to Mary and asked, “Do you know what he said?”  Mary said she had no idea.  I then said, “I think he said we have to get on the bus and go to the airport”.  So that’s what we did.  The airport was not hard to maneuver because the waiting room, ticket booth, baggage department and other booths were all in one room.  I walked up to one of the booths and asked what bus we needed for the ‘standing stones’ and she told me that the schedule was on the wall.  I replied, “I know the schedule is on the wall but I’m having a difficult time figuring it out”.  She started looking at it and after a few minutes said she couldn’t figure it out either.  I went to the baggage department right next to the booth and the man there said he would help us out.  As we were walking across the room he told us that he just saw a bus driver walk into the restroom and we could ask him when he came out.  I told Mary to stay there and talk to the bus driver while I go outside to see if there were any buses outside.  I saw a bus start to pull away and I called out to wait and he leaned out and said he would be back in 20 minutes.  I went back in to see what Mary had found out and she told me the bus driver in the restroom turned out to be the one we couldn’t understand.  It was like we were in the Twilight Zone.  The bus returned, and yes, it was the bus we wanted.  We boarded the bus and Phil from the Howmore Hostel was sitting on the bus.  I sat next to him and asked him what time he had gotten on the bus and he answered, 11:30.  “11:30”!!! 
              We got off where we could walk to the ‘standing stones’ and afterwards we continued on to the forest of ‘Hercules the Bear’.  The forest was much smaller that the boys’ description but it was still impressive that a community would take such care of an animal.  Sure enough, we came across the statue of Hercules, along with a gravestone over his remains.  We hiked out and caught the bus again, with the same driver, who took us to Berneray where he suggested staying at a new place named John’s Bunkhouse.  We were greeted by Mary, the owner, who told us she only had a room for only one night and we took it knowing we would have to move in the morning.  It was another night of meeting interesting people, Mary, the owner of John’s Bunkhouse, Frances and Sue from the Edinburgh area, and Aaron, who was originally from the Berneray area.  We began telling everyone about the two boys and their story about ‘Hercules the Bear’ and how he lived in the forest and were helped by the people.  Aaron spoke up, “That’s not what happened, I actually saw Hercules when I was young.  He was owned by a wrestler guy and was brought up here to do a Kleenex ad and he escaped into the moor.  He was never in the forest.  He wondered for about 20 or so days and almost starved to death before he was captured and nursed back to health”.  All we could say is, “Wow”. 

Standing Stones

Heather blankets the landscape

Hercules' forest

The statue of Hercules the Bear

The grave of the celebrated bear

The two young boys warned us not to eat the red mushroom

Peat is cut out of the ground

Close up of peat being dug

Peat being dried to be used as fuel for heat

​               In the morning after hiking the area we walked to the other end of the island to our new home, the Gatliff Trust Hostel.  There were two men there who would answer any question with one word and silence overtook the atmosphere.  Mary and I were making lunch when Margaret, from the Howmore Hostel, walked in and started to liven things up.  We told her the whole story of the bus ride and ‘Hercules the Bear’.   As regarding ‘Hercules the Bear’ she suggested sticking with the story from the two 5th graders as that was a much more interesting story.  I still often think of the two boys and their version, such imagination and compassion in the story of Hercules.  Yes, it is the imagination that can change the global direction.  Most of the big scientific breakthroughs were made by people with great imaginations who would first imagine something, then set out to prove or manifest their ideas.  Imagination is like a muscle, the more it is used the stronger it becomes and children’s imagination should be celebrated instead of discouraged.  When lunch was over Mary and I explored the area, first hiking along the shore line and then climbing the highest peak on the island.

Landscape of the islands

There were many thatched roofs on the islands

Wire mesh along with the weight of the stones kept the thatch in place

A seal overlooks the water

The Gatliff Trust Hostel

Sheep on the path to the hostel

The Gatliff Trust Hostel

McCloed's cemetery

The beach at Gatliff

                After dinner that night Mary, who had invited us to her house for drinks and conversation, picked us up.  When we arrived, Frances and Sue, along with Chris, Mary’s husband, were there.  Chris started the evening off by pouring everyone a dram of whiskey.  It is interesting how whiskey is part of the social life in much of Scotland.  Getting drunk on whiskey is not part of the experience; rather it is part of the Scottish heritage and the conversations while sipping is always lively and informative.   Chris described how they started their croft which was established four years ago.  I had to interrupt at this point and ask what exactly a croft is.  The United Kingdom Parliament established the Crofters’ Act of 1886 after the older policy in the Scottish Highlands of clearing land tenants off their land.  The Crofters’ Act allowed people to occupy and work a small plot of land and have rights to land in common. The owner has to keep working the land according to the regulations of the Crofters’ Act or give it up to someone who will.  Chris moved to the area in the 1970’s and eventually was offered a pile of rocks, along with land, to build a house.  He started out in a lean-to and at first it was rough living and life just went on for a while.  When Chris met Mary his quality of life changed for the better.  Four years ago they established their land as a croft and finished their bunkhouse which was regarded as ‘diversifying’ in the crofting regulations. They built the bunkhouse as a replica of the black house that had once stood on the site yet was not structurally sound.   Along with the bunkhouse they have replanted some of their land with a diversity of trees.  Their house and land, along with the bunkhouse were beautiful. 

Mary and Chris' house

The Aga stove is in many kitchens in Scotland

Mary and Chris' kitchen

Chris' painting 

​A plover scampers across the beach

The machair, the fertile land near the sea was rich with grasses and flowers

                At the gathering we also got to know Frances and Sue better and we exchanged emails with them.  Before we left, Mary suggested using Alasdair, an 84 year old taxi driver, to drive us to the ferry the next morning. She made the phone call and scheduled the pickup before driving us back to the Hostel.  At 6:15 the next morning we waited in the dark for Alasdair.  He arrived right on time and as we traveled he told us of his life and what it was like to live here years ago.  Alasdair was driving about five miles an hour and Mary and I exchanged glances as we were both wondering if we would make the ferry.  After several miles he began to pick up speed on our private tour and along the whole drive Alasdair’s descriptions continued.  He started driving taxi at 14 and his grandmother was born in the Gatliff Trust Hostel, which is over 200 years old.    Alasdair told us about how most people did not have water piped into their homes until 1952, and electricity came to the area in 1968. As he drove down the one lane road there were pull-offs where one car pulled over to let the other pass by, and it felt like timing and courtesy is built into the driving.  The Scottish culture as a whole makes sure the people around them are taken care of, including strangers from the United States. Alasdair was a proud man who welcomed changes.  At his young age of 84 he became the first in the whole area to equip his taxi with bike racks to encourage bicyclists to explore the area.  He finished the trip by showing us where he lived before dropping us off at the Lochmaddy ferry port just in time.  We ran onto the ramp, the boat left, and we were off to the Isle of Skye, the start of another travel day.

​                We enjoyed the dramatic scenery as we traveled by bus, followed by a quick ferry over to Malaig on the mainland of Scotland, where we rented a room at the Backpackers Bunkhouse.  The rest of the day was spent walking around the fishing and port town of Malaig, before retiring for the night.  The next morning we had some free time before catching the ferry to Eigg Island, so we walked around the town some more, visited the Heritage Museum, and then went to the Tea Room located at the Backpackers Bunkhouse.  We had just sat down when Frances and Sue walked in and sat with us.  Our conversation revolved around our common interests, such as Waldorf education and Camp Hill Communities, before parting ways.  We promised them if we made it down to the Edinburgh area we would look them up then Mary and I proceeded to the ferry which took us to the next leg of Scotland, the Isle of Eigg.    

Securing the ferry

Fishing boats in the bay at Malaig

Boat building yard in Malaig

View of Isle of  Eigg from Malaig