I wanted to do this organically but have been unable to find a nice tactile notebook so resorting to typed word. Somehow this does not seem right as it is a very organic place, big sky, big sea, big moorland and the biggest of any winds. It also does not seem to get dark and it is very difficult to guess the time of day. It came as a suprise that this might prove a difficulty , and just goes to show how much we are still tuned into our environment even as modern humans. I find myself using my watch much more up here. The blinds in the caravan are quite thin and light disturbs sleep at the moment. I need to source some thicker 'curtains'. The light here is very sharp and bright even when rain is lashing down. Colours are very vivid when the sunshines and the rich deep purple of the wild orchid against the bright pea green of the short grasslands is beautiful. What must it be like in the winter months when the reverse happens? Does everyone hibernate ?
I took Paul off to work this morning for the 9.30 ferry, packed lunch, waterproofs and his piece of PPE from Stuart. A pair of long blue gloves for refuelling the minivan , not a pair of calving gloves as I recognised them as. There are not many livestock over on the Cape as the area is used for live ammunition target practice by army types. The navy also use the shoreline for shelling practice but apparently the only ones who can really hit a target are the airforce. I think someone said it is the only 'live ammunition' parctice area in Europe.The Americans use it too but are are pretty hopeless with their aim and have bombed the wrong island on a few occaisions. The area is closed during the 'shooting season' as indicated by the red flags and sentries at the check points.
The jetty this morning was a busy place full of MOD types in their kakhi greens, messing about with an upturned landing craft in the loch. The winds and tides yesterday had been fierce, a good enough reason for an enforced rest day yesterday. It seems that to blend in with the locals one needs to either, wear fatigues and drive a landrover or, wear fishermans so'westers and yellow wellies and drive a battered van, with of course the border terrier or black lab in the passenger seat. The other necessary accessory seems to be the regulation jerry can of fuel. I have never seen so many , they are like handbags!
I left the men to their toys and macho conversation at the start of their day and headed on foot around the Kyle, following the coast line as recommneded by my guidebook. The rocky shore line dropped steeply away from the cliff path and in a couple of places I had to detour inland to negotiate very deep ravines that jaggedly cut into the edge of the land. At the start the sea was blue and the sand golden, the grass as green as you like peppered with golden buttercups, dancing daisies and fluffy cotton grass. Looking back I could spy the progress of the first ferry load of passengers and the slow chuggings of the white mini buses as they set out on their bumpy ride. The track rans parallel to my path on the opposite side of the broad stretch of water. I could also see the next weather front approaching, grey and threatening. There was absolutley no shelter so waterproofs zipped up and best foot forward. My guidebook told me it was 3 miles to the ruined church at Balknakeil. That would be three Scottish miles that perhaps are not the same as Welsh miles seemingly different again to English miles. I suppose I need to give in and go metric but I somehow doubt that would improve accuarcy. The squall passed and the sun shone encouraging small birds to continue their foraging and large fat rabbits to continue munching and mowing the cliff tops. An eiderduck marched her two rather large and ungainly chicks to the waters edge. A pair of ravens danced and twisted, spiralling in thier bonding flight, buffeted by the onshore wind. I spotted and marked some nice future picnic spots in the anticipation of perhaps some calmer days. Eventually my route crossed a small golf course and the text book beach of Balnakeil came into view. Nature has read the instuctions on this one but not followed the requirements for a warm southern location!
Paul and I had visited this area briefly on Sunday on our walk from the caravan to the craft village at Balknakeil. We discovered the modern cafe, the headquaters of a hand made chocholate factory. We stopped to sample the produce – the first of many trips I suspect. The set up was very impressive given the location. It was like an oasis in the wilderness. The premises, an ex military establishment of concrete single storey constructon , offered eat in chocolate and truffle meal deals, a full range of modern beverages, and a pick your own take away box service- all tied up with a purple ribbons and the company logo – an excellent example of marketing genius and maximising business space. I suspect that there is an internet delivery service available too. The till was overflowing and the placed buzzed with happy eager customers. On exploring further we found the 'village' complex also offered the visitor various arty crafty outlets and another cafe, this one with a second hand bookshop.
Today I took my custom to the bookshop for a comfort stop before the return stage of my expedition. Outside was parked a familiar red van with a scruffy terrier seated on the passenger side. Inside the cafe my identification proved correct as John the taciturn ferryman was seated having his morning coffee. I am not sure if he recognised me but I gave my best smile and got a slight nod. James had told Paul that his sister, thats John's not James's, ran the cafe for the current owners. The eldery gentleman proprieters have the distinction of being the first Scottish couple to enter into a civil partnership. Apparently the business is now for sale due to impending retirement. The cafe is the exact opposite to the one on the other side of the quadrangle, however the books are browsable with some ancient reference type books and I found the coffee suprisingly good and nicely served in a small cafetiere. The ferryman left before me and a couple of walkers wandered in for coffee and cake but very little else happened.
The sun was making another appearance between showers so I took the opportunity to press on with my walk to collect the car back down at the ferry. My directions led me to a green lane known as the Manse track passing the ruin of the old school, one of the earliest in the Highlands, built in 1765 but closed in 1861. The Manse is still an occupied dwelling dating from 1728. I followed my nose back to the road and after a while the familiar sight of the ferry road came into view. As I rounded the corner the view over the watery expanse of the Kyle of Durness was laid out before me bathed in bright sunshine, a true photo opportunity but Paul had the camera today. The backdrop of the mountains behind was magnificant and offered a promise of more rain. I caught a glimpse of the roof of a white van over on the otherside and wondered if this was Paul on his second trip out to the lighthouse. There were a lot of cars and campervans in the parking area so business looked good.
On returning home I set about being a good 'caravan wife' and dealt with the necessary domestic issues of the day. A new gas bottle purchased, and delivery organised from the garage, to keep the cooker and hot water working and instruction from Elspeth on the use of the washing machine in the laundry shed behind the house. I also visited the Spar and the Post Office ( one and the same, and the business also includes the garage) to check out the local facilities. I now await the return of the bus driver or the phone call to go and collect him from the ferry. All very domestic and cosy.
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