for recent posts on Scotland see Highland Holiday 2 and falling, falling, falling
Scotland – my other soul place…or more exactly, it’s the western highlands that resonate somewhere deep inside me. The land and sea meeting, melding together. Ice deep blue, azure-crystal water lapping; tangy, salty seaweed mixing; soft pink clumps of thrift and silvery sea grasses changing; scraggy, rocky headlands, deep green gullies shifting; spongy peat bogs spangled with drifts of cotton grass turning; majestic peaks rising high above and forever into the distance. Soft, clinging rain, damp grey-pink mists, whisping, weaving clouds parting to reveal glimpses of some gothic other world. The sounds echo and reverberate too – the haunting call of the curlew, the cry of a lapwing, the drumming of snipe, the call of a sheep, water, wind, rain fading to silence. It moves, refreshes, invigorates and stimulates me.
We are here on a week’s holiday.
The hustle and bustle of leaving the farm left me with the sinking sensation of ‘is it going to be worth it?’ I know I need to get away. I grow stale and boring. Time off the farm regenerates.
We arrive…
Small stone croft thatched with turf. Warm and cosy with a fire burning in the stove and views across old broken field systems, bumpy gneiss moorland to stunning jutting peaks – Suilven, Stac Pollaidh, Cul Mor, Cul Beg, Ben Mor Coigach, Quinag, Canisp. Ever moving, ever changing.
Outside our window two Highland cows graze with their calves. So different from my cattle – short-legged, wide heads, broad muzzle – lean and rugged – long coats blowing in the wind; bearing more resemblance to yaks than cows. Their calves have cuddly teddy bear appeal but are as wild as hawks.
We walk and explore the lumpy moorland etched with water, lochans and blanket bog. I imagine how people managed to eke a living from this wild, remote landscape. We come across settlements nestling in sheltered hollows, ruined and deserted, though much stone work still strong and standing. Beautifully and skilfully constructed. I find old lazy beds, cairns marking patches of cleared cultivated land; stock holding and handling pens, small shepherd huts. I try and imagine myself surviving here. Protein from the sea and animals; carbohydrates from potatoes and oats; wool to spin and weave; skins cured for rudimentary footwear; light from tallow and rushes; meagre warmth from furze and drift wood. The harsh elements always fighting back.
We climb lofty peaks of red Torridonian sandstone and sculptured limestone.
High, high, up a sandstone ridge we spot mountain hare, a soaring eagle and surprise a perfectly camouflaged ptarmigan hen with her brood of chicks and a striking ptarmigan cock sporting a brilliant red comb. We are astonished by strange beach-like plateaux complete with dunes where hundreds of the rare Black Mountain moth had just emerged.
On limestone hills we find a stunning array of flowers. Mountain and water avens, globe flower, moss campion and rose-root. Dotted everywhere are the deep blue flowers of common butterwort and purple-rose spears of the northern marsh orchid. We explore caves and rocks looking for fossils and the marks of ancient man and mammals.
We take a boat around the isles, find bays of coral sand and watch common seals sunbathing, fat with pup. Sea birds abound: tystie and guillemot bob amongst the waves; small regiments of shags dry their wings on rocky outcrops; bonxies and artic skuas fly threateningly over us and eider duck make a home in a sheltered bay. Our ferryman is also the owner of an island. I’m intrigued. Tell me about it, I urge, how do you manage? Power, sewage, rubbish? Upkeep, building, living? Dreams, aspirations, failure? I’m greedy for information. I learn much.
It’s time to leave…
I’m not sad, I know I’ll be back and this time going home is different. I’m returning to Olly and new possibilities!
11 comments
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June 13, 2007 at 11:42 am
Gill
I’m jealous. That’s one area of the highlands I’ve never been to and have always wanted to.
June 13, 2007 at 7:36 pm
paula
Go…you won’t regret it!
July 1, 2007 at 2:16 am
jeanette
my daughter and i drove up to skye over to the east coast down to edinbourgh1997.only a taste in january but we loved it.the raw beauty the dead brown flora covering the hill side and road verges at that time of year. i likened to the red brown earth of west aust’s north.the miles of empty country (getting back to the vanishing villages) was also similar to our north i want to go further north in that country i feel a kin to one day.
May 8, 2008 at 4:12 pm
Amanda
Do you have anything for a Rose Moss Campion? I need it for school!
June 1, 2008 at 4:18 pm
Lizzy
Hi Paula
When I read about the Highland Cows outside you door, I thought your readers might like to see the sculptures hand carved by my brother-in-law Ronald Rae. He is is a Scottish sculptor and did a sculpture called Highland Cow. Here it is
June 2, 2008 at 11:28 am
paula
They are rather spectacular lizzy – maybe he’d like to place one on the farm??!
June 2, 2008 at 11:30 am
paula
Amanada I seem to have missed your comment – sorry, don’t think the state allow any flowers to cross their customs.
Hope you got some nearer home. Good luck with the band.
June 3, 2008 at 4:45 pm
Lizzy
“maybe he’d like to place one on the farm??!”
Hmmm – I tried that as well! He does gift some sculptures but only if they are going to placed in very public places where thousands of people would see them. Otherwise the larger ones cost many many thousands. Ronnie’s sold sculptures therefore tend to grace stately homes and the gardens of the
wealthy. However currently there is a petition to keep The Lion of Scotland outside Holyrood. It was supposed to be moved, but due to the success of the petition it’s still there.
July 15, 2008 at 12:06 am
Catherine Sherman
I’m late commenting on this. This is a beautiful description of your visit. I’ve never been to Scotland, but now I really want to visit. (I want to go to Cornwall, too.) Your photos are amazing. I loved the highland cows and the sandstone ridge. I almost got dizzy!
July 15, 2008 at 8:09 pm
paula
Not at all cathy. The western highlands are so beautiful – and for me one of the most romantic places in the world. If ever you can visit do – and Cornwall!
And thanks for the compliments on the photos!
May 11, 2010 at 8:28 am
Ross
Scotland is a great place to get away from it all for a week or two. I remember going not so long ago and having to make sure we had petrol to get us at least the 20 miles it took to the nearest fuel station!