Who would have believed it? Three weeks holidaying in Scotland and no rain. Well, a couple of times it did rain, but we were en route for our ferries so it didn't stop play. Scotland in late May/ June was truly magnificent. On the Solway Coast, in the South we stayed at a caravan park that had been awarded a David Bellamy gold star. Set in woodland, the Hawthorn trees were in full bloom, looking as if a giant had poured double cream from a pitcher all over the woodland. Or, as I heard one child ask his mother,'Is that a snow tree?'
This area is called the Scottish Riviera, and with its pretty villages and beaches it's easy to see why. It's a very undiscovered part of the country. Most people head north after Gretna Green. It's worth turning left and spending a few days strolling along the coastal paths and through the forests and woodland. The towns are uncrowded. Kirkcudbright (Kir-coo-bri) is our favourite. People are very friendly, the stone cottages with vaulted alleyways leading to pretty gardens are charming. Its good light encourages artists to settle and exhibit there.
Driving north through Dumfries and Galloway and then Ayrshire, we took the ferry from Ardhossan to the Isle of Arran, where we ate kippers for breakfast and had a view over Holy Island, where there is a centre for world peace. Unfortunately, the winds were too strong for the wee ferry, so instead we walked to the cave, where Robert the Bruce was said to have had an encounter with a spider, which inspired him to carry on his campaign to free Scotland from English reign.
Arran is said to be Scotland in miniature, with rich lowland pastures in the South and intimidating mountains in the North. It is quite wealthy and as one of the nearer islands to Glasgow has a lot of visitors. From Arran we took the ferry from Lochanza in the North to Claonaig on Kyntyre. Driving down to Carradale in Mid Kintyre we were able to view the mountains of Arran in late evening light from the opposite shore. Set against the mauvey-pink rhododendrons that dominate Kintyre's landscape, the scene was magical.
We stayed in a log cabin, that was somewhat dog-eared but in a great location- a holiday park set just behind a long sandy beach with forest walks. There I made a basic mistake, wearing three quarter length trousers on a forest walk. I counted 24 love bites from the mighty midge-and that was just on my right leg between foot and calf. Must be something about the plumpness of a female calf that midges go wild for. Rhys didn't have a single bite. Then, he was completely covered up. Repellent must be in short supply and expensive, because someone nicked my leaky one, left by the car during another walk. Midges love hot humid places and are pretty rampant from June to August. We bought midge masks-mine in pink and Rhys's in black, that look like see-through balaclavas. The sort of thing Michael Jackson made his children wear on visits to the zoo in New York. On a guided walk through the gardens at Inverewe in the North West Highland the whole group was wearing midge masks. We looked like we were at some kind of weird gathering of the clans.
We did the obligatory homage to the Mull of Kinytre, made famous by Paul Macartney and Wings, but after a few miles of one-track roads on the edge of a cliff with mist rolling in, we headed back to the safety of our log cabin.
Carradale is a great place to island hop and we hopped over to the little island of Gigha (Gee-ya), twenty minutes from Tayinloan in mid Kintyre. It's owned by its tiny community, seems fairly prosperous and has the beautiful gardens of Achamore. This part of Scotland, the West coast and Hebridean islands are washed by the warm waters of the Atlantic Gulf Stream, so there are many gardens donated by hard-up Lairds or their descendents to the National Trust of Scotland(NTS) and open to the public. The NTS has reciprocal arrangements with the National Trust of England and Wales, so if you're a Welsh member who thinks (like us) it's hardly worth the annual subscription because of the paucity of properties and gardens in Wales, it's worth being a member to take advantage of these Scottish paradises. Unfortunatel, Achamore isn't NTS.
From Kennacraig, a little further north on Kintyre, we made the two hour trip to the Island of Islay(Isla) -The Whisky Isle. There are at least seven distilleries making single malts and blended varieties from raw materials supplied from the mainland and using local peat in the maltings to produce the characteristic smoky elixir. Distilleries give guided tours and tastings for brands such as Laphroaig (Prince Charles' favourite apparently-not that I'm interested), Lagavulin, Caol(Cil) Ila. In late May there's a whisky festival, much loved by Italians,Germans, Americans and Swedes. Our landlady said it's a wild time to come. And we just missed it.
From Kintyre we drove ten hours up to the North West Highlands. At Ballachulish between Oban and Fort William we accidently managed to get behind the Olympic torch procession. The crowd thinking we were part of the support team, I guess, cheered us on with their Coca-Cola and Samsung drum kits. It was a relief to lose them at Fort William. There's only so much regal waving a couple in a Kia Rio can do, and concentrate on the driving.
We stayed in Aultbea in a lodge with a wonderful view of Loch Ewe and the spiky range of the Torridon mountains. Loch Ewe was a top secret place in WW11. It was the mustering HQ for the Arctic Convoys taking supplies to Russia. My uncle was on one of those convoys and I'm keen to learn more. Sadly, he died before I had the chance to ask the right questions.
We walked around lochs, more gardens, cycled, and walked to a lighthouse. We got a lift back with an ex-army couple, who'd been travelling for two years in their souped up jeep with their cat. I'm not a great fan of cats, to say the least. I sat frozen in the passenger seat in case the cat should take a walk over my back and attempt to sit on my lap. If I screamed our driver might topple over the cliff. Thankfully, the cat and I behaved ourselves.
