Thursday, 31 October 2013

Highland Haj 3 : Highland highways, waterways and watering holes.




I did say there was more to come on Tarbert, Argyll and, though it has taken a wee while, here we are. Many of you will be familiar with the Mull of Kintyre, thanks to the eponymous song made famous by Sir Paul McCartney and Wings in 1977.  Paul has had a long association with the area since 1966 when he bought High Park farm near Campbeltown. 

People usually enthuse about the natural beauty of the area, so I was surprised when an Edinburgh teaching colleague, on learning I was from near Tarbert, pulled a face. Probing further, I learned her unusual reaction was informed by years of classroom experience teaching Geography. She asked me to imagine what it was like trying to get teenage boys to draw maps of a peninsula greatly resembling the male member. I still stand by the beauty of the landscape, but have never been able to see it with the same eyes! 

One morning, out for a stroll, I came upon this event: a massive trailer being slowly towed along the road, complete with police escort. The strange thing was that the trailer, though fully extended, was….quite empty! The friendly traffic-controlling ‘bobby’ explained all. This was a dry-run to see if the trailer could safely manage our windy roads while hauling a wind-turbine component. And we have a happy ending: Katy MacBrayne of the Argyll and Bute Council Development and Infrastructure Services confirmed that the blade had been successfully transported from the RAF base in Machrihanish to Salachary, north of Kilmartin, to the Carraig Gheal Wind Farm – good name, that!
                                                    






    
We had a special evening treat - attending a film show in the Screen Machine, Britain’s only mobile cinema. This large vehicle serves the Highlands and islands of Scotland, bringing the latest films to remote areas.
 While we waited for the screening to begin, I was intrigued to see that the early birds were young lads, intent on getting front-row seats.  I got chatting with the lady seated next to me.  Turned out she knew my Auntie Katie, a family stalwart who had never married because, according to her:     
      ‘the desirable was not available, and the available was not desirable’  - just LOVE that! 

 She was very well known as she ran the local sweetie-shop, where youngsters regularly came for their barley sugars, chocolate misshapes, lollipops, gob-stoppers and sherbet sookers – tongue-searingly sharp sherbet retrieved from its cardboard cylinder by sucking on a liquorice tube. We laughed as we fondly remembered how Auntie Katie refused to let the children spend all their money at once. I guess she more or less had a monopoly on their pocket money anyway – they would always come to her. 

 What this lady and my aunt had in common was their membership of the same church, the Free Church of Scotland. This ultra-conservative church, of Calvinistic nature, allows no music to be played during the service. It holds the fourth commandment, ‘Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy’, as the central tenet of its faith. Consequently it has opposed ferries operating on a Sunday, obstructed children from using play parks and definitely frowned on doctors going out to care for the sick. I remember as children we were not allowed out to play when this church service was being held.

 Devout members, ‘Wee Frees’ as they are known, will go to great lengths to avoid any activity which may be construed as ‘working’ on that day. I clearly recall Auntie Katie, every Saturday, scrubbing her floors, cooking her meals, and even boiling water for her tea, kept hot in a flask … all to keep her Sabbath holy.

 That night the film being shown was ‘The Angel’s Share’. This was a light-hearted tale of down-at-heel Glaswegian lads trying to make a fast buck by siphoning off seriously expensive whisky from distillery vats. But truth to tell I felt a little discomfort. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy the film - it really was quite entertaining. Nor was it anything to do with the venue - the air-conditioned, 80-seater was beautifully comfortable. My discomfort stemmed from the fact that the director was Ken Loach and, in keeping with his vernacular style, every second word was a four-letter one rhyming with ‘luck’ ….and there was me sitting next to a Wee Free, feeling her every wince!
                


















We had a wonderful experience when we had a sail on the Waverley, the last seagoing, passenger paddle steamer in the world.  Named after Sir Walter Scott’s first novel, she is one fine old lady. Built in 1946, she regularly plied the Firth of Clyde until 1973 when she was bought by the Paddle Steamer Preservation Society. A public appeal raised funds, enabling the PSPS to arrange major refurbishing and ultimately organize Waverley Excursions. 

 Her operators claim she is one of the most photographed ships in the world. Certainly as she arrived at Tarbert Pier it was with a stylish elegance, the sound of the water swishing against her paddle blades like that of the starched lace petticoats of a grand dame. Though she took a bit of buffeting in choppy seas, in wind and rain, she took it like the trooper she is and we enjoyed a unique, smooth cruise.

Next to the P.S.Waverley, we see another vessel – the Oyster 70 Alba Venturer– which was just coming in to anchor, before rounding the Mull of Kintyre and going on to the island of Gigha. It operates under the aegis of the Ocean Youth Trust Scotland, a youth work charity which offers residential voyages for young Scots between the ages of 12 to 25, usually without any prior sailing experience. Operating from March through to November, their fleet of three sailing ships offers sail-training. Along with that experience, crew members attain personal development through facing physical, mental and emotional challenges. So the smiling faces that greeted us from the deck were among the thousand young people lucky enough to be selected annually for this maritime adventure.

        


The final focus of this posting is our visit to the imposing Stonefield Castle Hotel. Set in 60 acres of woodland, on a promontory north of Tarbert, it enjoys glorious views of Loch Fyne and boasts magnificently massive rhododendron bushes.  Here as a student I spent a summer holiday, washing dishes in the back kitchen while guests dined off fine china and on gourmet food. Naturally I wanted to be on the other side of the serving table, so invited the ladies of our party there for afternoon tea. 

Seven-year-old Neve was delighted to be included in the group and she had, on her own initiative, designed and completed a lady’s behavioural analysis to check if she was worthy of such designation. Ladies, according to her ‘survey’, do not clip their brothers’ ears, nor do they shout! My great-niece- and she is great! – thoroughly enjoyed the high tea she is displaying here: shrimp cocktail on brown bread, lettuce and dressing, game chips, oatcake, fruit scone with cream and raspberry jam - mmm!
          
   












    

 




                      

But today, as all you guisers know, we celebrate Hallowe’en and now Neve, the lady, turns into a blade-wielding, plundering pirate.
                                                                  Be afraid, be very afraid!



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