I was on my way back to Scotland, and I must say, this time I was feeling a bitty sad to leave South Africa, as the little cottage was just begging me to come and put it back into it's former what must have been a lovely state.
First I had to go to Pretoria to visit with my eldest sister Lida, as it is too far too drive down, and too expensive to fly frequently, so I visit with them when I leave, and again on coming back.
It was a good flight, This time with British airways, as I was not feeling up for the long flying time if I flew with Emmerates. If I fly with them, it is also impossible to visit my sis, as they fly direct from Capetown to Dubai, and I then had to also drive the almost seven hundred kilometers to Capetown in my small Spark, and that on our dangerous roads is a bitty hazardous.
The flight itself was okay, except that when the plane was filled up, I was elated for about three minutes, as the other two seats next to me was still unoccupied, and visions of a good night's sleep flitted through my brain! But this blissful state was rudely shattered when there was a sudden spurt of activity in the front, and when I saw the hostess coming down the isle with two minors behind her, my heart just sank into my tummy, as I well knew that the only empty seats were next to me!
This hostess asked me with an angelic smile if I would just keep an eye on the two, a young English girl of about eight who was visiting her dad, and a black boy of about ten or eleven, and call them if anything was amiss! Bally cheek, but I am quite goodhearted, and said okay, yes, righty ho, I will see to them, but if I knew what awaited me, I would have made a run for it.
The young girl was a real sjeike madam, very knowledgeable about flying, while it was the boy's first time, and he was immediately taken in hand by this girl, who taught him all about western manners and behaviour, while he sat with a fearful expression, I think wanting to also run away from this young missy!
When the food came, the boy had a bit of trouble with opening his cutlery, so she grabbed it from him, and showed him with great enthusiasm just how it should be done.
The boy then started directly with his main dish, and on seeing this the little girl was horrified, and leaned over me, almost upsetting my tray, grabbed the starter, and told him in motherly tones that it is wrong to start on the main dish, and didn't he know that, and then to crown it all, she took his napkin and arranged it on his chest by tucking the one corner into the neck of his t-shirt!
The poor boy was by now so flustered that he couldn't get one morsel to his mouth, so missy made a few tut-tut sounds, and showed him how to hold his fork, as according to her, he was definitely not up to standard when it came to using the utensils correctly. By this time I could see that the boy was hugely upset and close to tears, so I told him to eat with his spoon, as that was much easier, and thinking that I myself sometimes have trouble eating in a plane, I sympathized with him.Young miss was horrified when she saw him gulping down his food using the spoon, but by this time I had decided that it was time to butt in, so I told her that as it was his first time on a plane, he was too tense to eat properly, and could she leave him for a little while, at which she frowned and tut-tutted some more, but left the poor boy to finish his dinner.
If I had earlier wishes of a good sleep, that idea quickly evaporated into thin air, as Missy, now fortified and apparantly finished with teaching her young pupil about table manners, started on me! She was very intelegant, asking about my life, and telling me about her life, living with her mother in South Africa, and now on her way to visit her dad. She never stopped, even after I begged her to just let up, for both the young boy and self were yawning our heads off. She never did! Stop, I mean, and was a bleary eyed me who sipped the coffee the hostess started serving when daylight started to show.
Then the lesson in table manners was taken up again when the breakfast came, but I tried to shield the youngster from his do-gooder by sitting forward so she could not really see him, and he finished his whole breakfast with his spoon. I was very glad when we landed at Heathrow, and even more so when I reached Hammersmith where I was staying for two nights in Protea House before getting the train to Stirling!
I was looking forward to my friends, and to my roamings in my little black Panda!

In the end I decided to buy the small stone cottage, as I was adamant to leave city life behind me. If I had any doubts, the George traffic convinced me!
One afternoon, just as the schools closed, I had the misfortune of driving up Meade road, which ran parallel with the school, and where also the school gates were situated. I don't know in other countries, but in South Africa, if you buy a silver four by four monster, you of course buy the right to do on the roads as you wish! In any case, that is how the owners of this gas gulping monsters behave, and most of them are a menace on our roads. But the women are worst! Maybe not when driving on an open road, but definitely when picking up their wee darlings, who are usually the school bullies, maybe seeing getting that trait from experiencing their parents's behaviour on the roads.
This day it was the same, as I forgot that on a friday the schools dimiss an hour earlier, and the silly, forgetful, and unsuspecting me turned happily into said Meade road, just to be confronted by two rows of this monsters, blocking the road from both sides in front of the school, the Mummies sitting ever so comfortably in their air conditioned monsters, while us poor people, who do not own any road, neither do we own an airconditioner, sat swearing and sweating, while they have a good look at their hairdo's, inspect their nails, one by one, squinting seriously to see if the salon had done a good job!

I sat there in my sweaty clothes, and thought of the traffic in Haarlem, where the only traffic was the bull and his harem, two pigs, a few donkeys, and a few chickens, and as my temper rose, my will to escape to the country rose, and when I eventually got home, I phoned the agent, and told her that I am buying the plot with the stone house.
Within two days I had sign the papers, the attorney looking at me if I was quite mad, wondering why a woman with a comfy flat wanted to live out in the wilds, in a dilapadated house.
I couldn't do anything until the house was legally mine, so I sat in the flat kicking my heels, and then, just before I had to leave for Scotland, the attorney phoned and gave me the good news that I was now the owner of 3, Constitition road, Haarlem.
Must say, the moment he told me, I got a bitty scared, as I would be living away from my own people, and the house was about four hundred meters from my closest neigbours!
But at seeing it once again, not the inside, as the agent was still struggling to get the keys from the old lady whose propety it was, as she had been taken to her children in Capetown after having been attacked by two younsters in the house next doors, which was also hers! This fact was of course only told me after I came back from Scotland by Bush, a neigbour, otherwise I might not have taken this step, of which my kids heartily disapproved!
But I left for Scotland in a very happy mood, looking forward to coming back and start renovating! If only I knew!
But at least it was a new beginning, just me and my wee house, and I didn't feel quite so left out anymore! My empty nest was going to keep me too busy for feeling too sorry for myself, and in the meantime I still had my work to go to!

As it turned out, the places for sale was all adjacent to the river, and a bit out of the village. The place I saw in the papers had about a hectare under apples, and another under pears, and there were three buildings on it, but these were very dilapadated, and I knew that I did not have the skills to do most of the renovation myself, neither had I the money to have it done. I had also spoken to an old man working away in the apple orchard, and he was aghast that the owner, a mr. Cairncross could put the place on the market, as he and his son had applied for a loan from the Agricultural bank. The fact that he had worked for this man, and on this smallholding for many years, and so much wanted to own it, helped to make up my mind, feeling a bit antagonistic towards the owner, who had arrived, and stood talking to the agent.
When I saw this little stone cottage with its round thatch roof, I knew that it was mine! It was beautiful, although neglected, but it looked so friendly, and I was sure it was kind of winking at me from the two front windows. So we had a look.
Big rose trees were growing in front and on the side of this wee house, and they were in full bloom, and the bit of colour  gave the sadly neglected little house  bit of grandeur. The agent did not have a key for the main house, but we could enter the bottom, newly built on bedroom and bathroom.
It was the strangest room, the roof on one side about ten feet high, sloping sharply down to the other side which was about four feet high. It did make the room quite interesting, although the bathroom was the most hideous I have ever seen, with a bath that dated from the sixties, and this thing was the colour of khaki, but one very sickly khaki!
I think the basin stand was from an old plane or maybe a hotel or cinema, as this thing covered the whole wall, the top covered in fake green marble, with different openings, covered by metal plates  for hygiene cut into this, and in the front also some pull out holders, maybe for used paper handtowels and so on! It might have been useful, but goodness gracious, It was Ugly!
Irma and Hannes had a look at the house next doors, which was rented out, where they had to almost clamber over quite a few drunken bodies, as it was 'all pay' day the day before, the agent told us. All Pay means money paid by the state for not being able to work.
I was not sure that I was up to living here, but we went down to the river, where huge poplar trees of about fifty meters high grew in great numbers, and it felt as if one was in a green, quite surreal world.

Back at my flat in George I was as busy as a bee, as the previous summer I was home, I had decided that this flat living is not for me, and after an outing to a place called Haarlem, a very traumatic experience with a friend of ours, Hannes, behind the wheel of my Uno that I used to drive, I was adamant that I wanted to become a homesteader.
Hannes is one of those people that knew only one way to drive any car, and that is to put his foot on the petrol, never to take it off again before he got to his destination!
As I was no feminist, and I could see that Hannes was not at all happy to be driven by a woman, and a granny at that, I told him that he could do the driving, and with Irma in the passenger seat, and the unsuspecting me cosily in the back, packed lunch, flask and all, we set off to have a look at what was for sale in Haarlem.
By the time we hit the Outeniqua pass I was already a nervous wreck, and when we took the steep parts without Hannes lifting his foot, or changed to a lower gear, and the poor little Uno started screaching like a big plane getting ready for take-off, I started hyperventilating! Badly!
It felt like ages before we left the pass behind us, and the Uno and self got our breathes back, the little car now hurtling like something demented across the straight and quite narrow road of the Small Karroo! When we stopped at a place called Knoll's Halt, I was a bally wreck, and my legs felt like two jelly sticks when I got out of the car to go to the toilets, and when I saw my white face with a blue tint around my mouth in the cracked mirror, I just knew that a heart attack was near! Luckily not, as I revived marvelously after fortifying myself with a packet of crisps to put the salt back, and a bottle of lichee flavoured water to wet my poor dry mouth.
I tried to tell our driver that the Uno might be small, but it still needed a gear change now and then, but I don't think he caught on that I was trying to give him a subtle hint, as we again screamed through the next pass, the little Uno like a beetle pushing a too big ball of dung, me a nervous wreck, Irma sitting with her neck as stiff and straight as a ramrod!
Coming from the main road and looking at Haarlem, I was hooked, as it lies between mountains and apple groves, and it was beautiful, until I saw the little village itself. Coming in to the village, a few dilapadated houses greeted us, and I think all three of us was a bit big eyed, as everywhere thin, underfed dogs were peeping with hungry eyes at us.
The only traffic we encountred on our way to the Lutheran Church where we were to meet the agent was one enormous bull lying smack in the middle of the main road, about seven cows around him, all taking a siesta under the scorching sun! No amount of tooting could move this lot, so Hannes edged the Uno, who I think was smaller than the bull, closer and closer, until he was next to the bull, then let rip with the hooter! Bull jumped up with a snort, kicking up a huge dust storm, and small pebbles flying all over, some hitting the car! He then started kicking up dust with his monstrous paws, snorting and shaking his big head ominously!
Hannes started revving up the Uno while he simultaneously let rip with the hooter again, and after some more snorting and kicking up dust the bull seemed to have had enough, and with a last redrimmed eye look of pure hatred at the Uno and its passengers he commanded his many wives to get up, and off he led them, straight into somebody's potato field. We came across a few more cattle families, but they were much more good natured than  'The Sheik of Haarlem' with his many wives!
The deeper into the village we drove, the better the houses appeared, and I think at some or other paint suppliers a huge mistake was made with the mixing, and then this flop was presented free to the people, because there was about ten houses painted in a bright magenta, bright enough to make one's eyes burn, and driving further in, we found also a group of houses painted in the limiest green I have ever seen. But in that village they looked lovely, if a bit conspicious!
We also met a herd of beautiful horses, and when a hasty donkey suddenly stepped into the road right into the way of the roaring Uno, I had to give a bit of a snigger when Hannes had to put his foot hard on the breaks, as he just could not grasp that we were in a rural village with all kinds of hazards. A huge sow was also grazing away along the road, and it did put a bit of doubt in my mind, but I decided to see what the agent had to offer!

Then I was on my way to the airport. Against Liz and Bryan's wishes, I decided to take the bus to the airport, as it is a busy road, and although they were eager to take me, I knew that it was hard on them, as Liz was now helping out part time at the Kingshouse, and the mornings were busy at my hotel.
Actually, it is easy by bus, as I took the schoolbus to Stirling, and from there a bus to Glasgow, and from there the airport bus, and as everywhere I just hopped onto the next bus without lugging my luggage for miles, it was really no sweat.
As always I quite liked sitting at the airport watching the world go by, and before long I was seated in Emmerates plane, looking out into the cold night as the plane taxied down to our allotted strip. I was sad to leave Scotland, but was also looking forward to see my family, but still a bit apprehensive of my empty nest. But I knew that there was such a lot to do every time I went back now that I was to buy the plot, that I was not scared of being bored, and living alone did not seem such a big deal anymore!
This time however I was going with Trienkie and Stephan to their sheep farm outside Calvinia, one of the most beautiful, but dryest places in South Africa. If you like green only, this piece on our earth is not for you, but if you like different shades of brown and yellows, and rock formations, this is intriguing landscape.
During the year this is almost a desert, with miles and miles of low growing shrubs, but come September, and one good fall of rain will turn this barren half desert into a fairyland, as the seeds would come alive, and within days the barren hillocks would be covered in a carpet of the most beautiful and vivid flowers! Orange, purple, yellow, all just so magnificant that it is hard to believe that this was just a barren grazing field for the tough breeds of sheep, the only herbifore that can kind of survive there, of course with a little help from the farmers.

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 The small hillocks house a very rare plant known mostly to that part of the country, and is called a 'Kokerboom'

 Annemarie is the wife of one of the shepherds, and does some cleaning, but mostly the cooking.

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Stephan's Parents with Kian.







 Oh shucks, I can't get my photo's lined up!Need help again!!!

We were on our way back to Strathyre, and the rain was pelting down. I sat in the passenger seat clothed in a t-shirt, two jerseys, my fleecy jacket, and my wind cheater, with a hat pulled low over my face, and a thick scarve that was not only tied around my head but covering my face, not only for warmth, but to gut off Benny's breathe before the stench could seep in there. The window had to be open, as Benny stood with his forepaws against the back of my seat, and as long as he got plenty of fresh air, he was okay, but as soon as his supply was cut off, he started wretching, and even vomiting, and for that added smell my stomach was just not strong enough.
Because of the open window the icy raindrops were being blown into the car and felt like needles piercing my skin. Just thinking of the many hours of driving ahead of us made me feel sick, as we haven't even reached Fishnish, our first ferry crossing pier, before I was frozen bally stiff, and by the time we had done the second crossing, I thought I would never be able to straighten up again I felt so cold and stiff, and took a vow to never go on holiday with Liz if the dogs went along. We stopped in Glencoe for coffee and lunch, and I stood in front of the brightly burning fire in the pub, and felt myself defrosting bit by bit!
One thing I just can NOT understand about this kind of animal lovers of which Liz is one, the kind that would see you bally freeze to death, because the dog felt sick, or make you sleep on the ground when their beloved dogs gnarls at you when you want to get between the sheets of your allotted bed when on a visit, because she had forgotten that that her beloved Mitsy or Pipsy, the ugly little mongrel, had decided during the past week that he loved that specific bed, is that they never seem to care about your wellbeing!
Anyway, we made it to Strathyre by about ten that evening, and by that time I had also my sleeping bag around me, but I still had to almost roll out of the car I was so frozen. Luckily the wind blew away most of the fumes that Benny emmitted behind my head!
That Saturday night we went to a party at the Kingshouse where I had taken a job for the next year, and it was so nice, as usually I only got to a party when it was almost over, for to get Saturday nights off was impossible. I threw caution to the wind, and danced the night away with my ex-loverboy, whose new girlfriend was still living somewhere in st Andrews, as we were not cross at each other, but he wanted a family, and was getting on in years, and our four year  romance used to be based, and happily so, on the understanding that there was no strings attached, as I did not want a serious relationship at that stage, but it was nice to have somebody to talk to, and where I could get away to when things became a bit much, and was nice while it lasted. In two day's time I would be on the plain, on my way to my empty nest!

That night I wanted to sleep in the communal room again, but there were other people sitting on my couch watching television, and by twelve my eyes were burning from watching to see if they were gone yet, but oh, no, they sat like they have been nailed to the bally couch! So, watching and listening to the three on the other side of the sheiling, everyone of them a hazard to the strongest nervous system, as the one was snoring and gasping and grinding teeth with a wide open mouth, while the other two, the ones with four legs, were snoring and wimpering and scratching, but together it was an ungodly bally racket.When my phone showed the hour to be one, I knew that I just had to try and fall asleep, and I was now looking at them, wondering if a tissue or two in their mouths would not soften the hideous noises that came out of there.
I decided that it might not be a good idea, as I only wanted to quieten them for the night, not forever,so I rolled two little sausages with the tissues and stuck it up my ears! Did help a wee bit, but I then took an overdose of my herbal sleeping capsules, meaning three in total, and lay down with my book, trying to read myself into oblivion!
When dawn broke I was still trying to sleep, so I got up, donned my warm clothes and hiking boots and went down to the beach to say goodbye to my two otter friends. It was such an eerie feeling this otters gave me, as I was sure that they knew me, and as I went for a walk every morning before Liz woke up, I found them kind of waiting on the rocks. Then they would watch me intently while I talk towards them, asking them how they were and so on, and when I started walking, they followed me all the way, playing in the waves and showing off something terrible.The feeling that I was actually interacting with this two wild animals was just unbelievably satisfying, but also humbling, and I thought myself lucky to be liked and played with by two such lovely things!
I was sad, as we were leaving this day, and the thought of me not walking with my otters ever again was a sobering thought that brought a wee depression onto me.
Before going to Fishnish for our ferry, we wanted to go to Loch Sgabain, where a huge and ferrocious dragon used to rule, and on top of Beinn Fhada was still an indent where his body had worn it out, lying there waiting for his prey.
One of the many small kings of that time was so traumatized by this monster, that he promised the hand of his daughter to the man who killed the dragon. One day a young man came on land at Kinloch, and he started laying a pathway of barrels, in which sharp projecting spikes were driven, between his ship and the shore. He then, armed with his sgian dubh (black knife) brought a herd of cattle from the ship and started driving them up the glen towards the dragon's lair. He then led the dragon, who saw this wonderful feast coming towards him, on and up to where the barrels started, by killing cattle one by one and throwing it to this gluttenous  beast. The last cow was kept on the ship, and as the young man saw the dragon coming towards him where he had just left the last slaughtered cow, he ran nimbly over the barrels and onto the ship. The dragon swallowed the cow that was left, and then, seeing the live cow on the ship, started running over the barrels, where he was quickly impaled by the spikes.
The evidence was brought to the king, but as history does not say anything about it, nobody knows whether the king's daughter was worth all this trouble! Ha-ha!
As we drove away from Craignure and the sheilings, I thought about Staffa Cottage, where I watched the world come alive every morning,and about my otters, and I was sad!

I was so glad when Liz actually got up the next morning without too much grumpiness, as we were awake so many times, until I went to sleep in the communal sittingroom. If we wanted to walk to the Nun's caves we had to leave quite early, as it was about seven miles over a rocky beach, and us not being youngsters any more, we had to leave ourselves enough time to get before dark.
But if I thought that my friend would sacrifice her morning ritual, I had high but useless hopes. She was up alright, but hung over the plastic table like a drooping plant, head in her hands and cigarette between the lips, coffee held precariously in a badly shaking hand! I tried to be optimistic, and talked about the caves, as I knew that she also wanted to see them, and went on talking in a chirpy way while fixing breakfast, until she shouted in her hoarse, quite low voice that if I don't stop gibbering she was going to get back into bed.So I closed my mouth, and finished the breakfast, and also packed us a cold lunch, and filled up the flask.
By eleven thirty a thinly smiling Liz was ready, and we set off. I was very excited, as there were supposed to be wonderful carvings done by the monks and relics of the nuns's stay there after they were banned from Iona. We took the road to Pennyghail, through glen More, and on to a sign pointing to Carsaig, where we had to start our walk. The road down to the pier was very steep, and Liz started hyperventilating, so I suggested we leave the car up there and walk down. The pier was small, with a dilapadated wee house, and big trees growing quite close to the shore.
I found a swing, maybe made by gypsies who camped there, and took a swing on it, flying over the rocks below, and then I started begging Liz to just once in her life became like a youngster again, and have a go. It took some doing, but she decided to stop my nagging as she put it, and have a go. It was marvelous to see the anxiety on her face make place for enjoyment, although she clung to the rope with all her might.
But we were on a mission, so we left our childishness behind and started the long trod over some really rough terrain at some places to get to the caves.
We followed the shoreline eastwards for what felt like twenty miles, but I found later that it was only twenty, but the terrain was quite hazardous, until we came to lochbuie. From there on it was about another mile of hard slogging, but it was very beautiful, with dark cliffs in awesome formations above us.
It is said that the monks who lived there drove wooden pegs into the cracks between the rocks, and with the swelling of the pegs when it got wet, the slabs split open, and it was then used to make carvings for Iona Cathedral, but also they made grave slabs and other things to sell, to boost the Cathedral's funds.
On the left side of the cave was carved  holy symbols and crosses, and a font was carved out in the front of this cave that was named after the nuns that sheltered there after being evicted from Iona during the Reformation period.
I felt very small standing amidst all this history thinking about the hardship of the people who once lived and worked there.

That night I almost committed a triple murder! I was tired, as we had a full day, and I had really enjoyed the outing to Tobermory and the other places we saw, especially the Glengorm standing stones.We decided to go to bed early, as we had to rise and shine with the earliest birds for our trip to the Nun's caves, as it was quite a stiff walk along the beach to get to the entrance of the caves.
I took two of my herbal sleeping aid capsules, and after some reading I felt a wonderful sleepiness came over me, and I knew that I was in for a good night's sleep, as I was so relaxed that not even the noises coming from Liz's side of the room had any upsetting effect on me. As Liz didn't have her usual full bottle of red, her snores were not bad at all, quite rhytmic I thought, and even the dogs were more relaxed.
I had a wonderful dream about the standing stones we had visited that day! I was this kind of Celtic lady dressed in a flowing white dress, and I was walking around the Stones singing this beautiful song, and only people who had heard me sing would understand how much I loved that dream, as to tell the truth, I am no Maria Callas! To be quite brutally honest, I can't sing!
Into this smashingly wonderful dream intruded a voice so shrill, and so panic stricken, that I half woke with a start, and as this high pitched voice in my ears went on and on, I reluctantly had to let go of myself as singing pagan, and return to the real world! Liz was busy frantically shaking me, moaning on and on about some large animal in the tent! I switched on the light, and poor Lizzy was standing over my bed, her two trembling dogs at her feet, shaking me mercilessly! The last mists of my lovely dream disappeared, and I saw that poor Liz was in a state of panic, trembling like a bally blamange pudding, and when I switched the light on, she, with her two dogs flew over to her bed, and all three disappeared under the bedclothes!
By this time I was livid, and told her in good old Afrikaans just how silly she is, and a few more things, and was later very glad that I said all that in a language she did not understand!
I had a bit of a start when I heard something outside the sheiling, something quite large, but to quieten the now jibberring Liz, I lifted the flap, and Liz gave one bellow, and I found a big deer grazing outside, but this deer had the fright of his life when Liz let rip, and legged it to to the safety of the mountain at break-neck speed.
After a while, and a glass of red each, calm reigned again, and soon Liz and dogs were snoring, and I started feeling drowsy again, so I put down my book and turned on my side for a well earned sleep!
That was not to be! I had just dropped off when I half woke once again, not knowing what woke me up, but as my mind cleared I realized that there was one BAD smell right under my nose, smelling like something that died a week ago! I tried to pull my sheet over my head, but something heavy was hampering my effort, so feeling a bitty scared, Liz having thinned my nerves a bit, I put the light back on, to find the wee Benny with the bad breath lying with his head on the pillow, breathing out his killer fumes straight up where my nose was a moment ago!
Now this time, it was me that gave a bellow, and with a much harassed looking Liz sitting up and watching me as if I was the destroyer of peace, I grabbed my bedding and legged it over to the communal sitting room!

we spent a wonderful afternoon at Tobermory, and the picturesque little village again impressed me by it's wonderfully friendly shopkeepers, and the lovely tea we had, not outside as I would have preferred,  but it was cozy inside the pub, and sitting in the welcoming heated place looking out at the grey sea that was rolling and hissing as if it wanted to break free of the walls on the pier and swallow us all, was nice!
We actually wanted to take the small boat that took tourists to see Fingal's cave on the small island of Staffa, but the sea was too rough, and it wasn't going out that day. It was quite a disappointment, as Fingal's cave can only be viewed from the sea.
From there we went on to Bloody Bay, where we had a look at the vuurtoring and on to the Glengorm standing stones. The standing stones always gave me a strange feeling that there was something unreal around me, not a scary feeling, just a kind of excitement, or strange expectancy.
From there we went on to Dervaig, from where we took a small road passing Kilninian Parish Church, then onto the road passing loch na Keal, but on the opposite side from little Staffa cottage, and then to Salen, then on to Craignure.
It had rained a lot through the day, and the terrain around the Sheilings were soggy, and muddy! As we needed raincoats and waterboots to get to the ablution block, and I had a pair of mud resisting hiking boots  it was decided that I would fetch some meat from the freezer, and we would cook in the Sheiling. By the time we wanted a shower and needed the toilet, it was still raining cats and dogs, and it was a bedraggled Liz who, covered in a jacket and raincoat, pants rolled up to her kneees, and shoeless, legged it over to the ablution block! I also left my shoes off in sympathy with my friend, but after a wonderful hot shower it took a lot of courage to brave the torrents of rain and the cold muddy water to get back!
Liz had decided that she was also sleeping in the big room, her room also very cold, so she made herself comfy on the extra bed that was just in front of her bedroom, her dogs on either side of her. We put the gasheater's temperature on high, and after laughing about the sprinting for the ablution block barefooted, and discussing the next day's agenda, I took up my book, and Liz and dog's went to slumberland!
I have heard some snoring coming from Liz's room before, and just closed my doors to cut off the noise, but just how bad it was I never knew until that night! Maybe if it was only Liz making sawing and gulping noises all would have been well, but when the two dogs joined in, I was shocked out of my drowsiness brought on by my reading!

It was like a badly directed choir of hoarse people, all going off onto it's own note, Liz being the conductor, her snores building up to an earsplitting crescendo before she started gulping like a fish out of the water, maybe for breath! I knew I would not close an eyelid with that caterwauling, so I took one of my over- the -counter sleeping aids that usually helped, but I don't think there was any antidote against that trio. I lay awake for bally hours, then grabbed my bedding, donned my raincoat, and legged it over to the communal sittingroom, where I lit the fire, made myself cosy on the divan, and promptly went to sleep.
Liz was extremely agitated when she woke up and found me gone, and came looking for me, hair standing like two horns around her face, looking like the devil himself standing there scowling at me. She just would not believe that her and the dog's snoring kept me awake, stating that she had lain awake half the night listening to something walking around outside the sheiling! I told her flatly that she dreamt all of that, upon which she flounced out of the room and went to brush her teeth!





     

As it was almost time to go back to the mainland, we thought it good to go to Tobermory one more time, just from the joy of seeing the beautiful little harbour village again, and also to buy some presents.
We had to drive through Salen, where the road to Loch na Keal struck off, and I felt sad again that we were not still at little Staffa Cottage, but hey, it is not bad at the sheiling!
A nice story about the area, is that in 1609 the british goverment sent out troupes to quell the unruly Hebridean chiefs, as they were a lot of marauding raiders that was quite a headache to the government.
The ships sent over were anchored at Aros bay, and the chiefs were tricked by lord Ochiltree to come on board for talks, and once they were on board, the ships lifted anchor and set sail. The Chiefs had to sign an undertaking to behave before they were later set free.
But unbeknown to the people in charge, an English soldier were left behind. He was luckily a very adaptable man, and settled on the island, becoming shepherd to MacArthur, who had a famous piping school on the island of Ulva.
The Englishman found that he loved piping, and used to practice secretly, coppying exactly the technique of MacArthur who always walked around practicing on his walking stick.
One day MacArthur had an audience who he wanted to impress with his rendering of 'The Battle Of The Birds', an extremely difficult tune to play on the pipes, and just as he was ready, the Englishman started playing the same song, wanting to impress his master!
The MacArthurs were not a happy clan, and dad was furious with the Englishman, who hastily retreated to the bay where he was originally left behind, but the murderous and very angry lot hunted him down and killed him!What a shame!
Aros Castle was our next stop. It was just one big ruin, but used to be an important stronghold for a consortium of highland chiefs that were called 'The Lords Of The Islands', who were quite a headache to the government of that times. As a matter of fact one of the macDonalds lay claim to the British thrown, claiming that he had more of a right to become King than Robert the Bruce!
Along the way we came upon the two beautiful boats rusting up along the road. I don't know why anything so beautiful was just discarded, but we stopped and I clambered up onto them, feeling a  strange sadness come over me, like when I look at the burned down crofter's houses, and I cried a wee bit for the hardships that this people had to endure, and also for the fact that all good things pass, and this beautiful boats would never sail again!

sheilings

The sheilings at Craignure  really impressed us, as they were huge, and we had taken one with two bedrooms, that was fully furnished with bedding and all. As our pockets were a bit to let, we had taken one without a bathroom, as the ablution block was not far from the sheiling, and it was beautifully clean.
Adjoining the ablution block was a tv lounge with a few tables if one wanted to eat there, and also a huge fridge-freezer, and several other kitchen stuff if you wanted to do your cooking in there, but the sheiling itself was adequately furnished for cooking.
There was also a fireplace that was already packed and ready for lighting, so we decided to cook our food and eat while we watched television. As it was so late in the season there was only a few other people, all of them real nice and friendly.
It was a nice spot, and we sat watching the ferries come and go untill it was time to go to bed. In the main room of the sheiling was a gas heater, and it was warm in there, bur I nearly froze to a human lolly in the bedroom, so I decided to put my bed in the sittingroom-kitchen, next to the gas heater and from then on the night passed without my knowing anything about it.
The next morning I was up early, and walked down to the beach, as it was quite a nice day, no sun, but at least the rain had stopped.
As I neared the beach, I saw two dogs playing on the rocks, and I wondered what on earth they were doing so close to the water, as it looked quite deep to me, and the sea not too calm, the breakers running with quite a speed towards the playing dogs. When I got closer though, I saw that it was not dogs at all, but to otters, who jumped into the water when they noticed me, but emmerged almost immediately, and swam away from the rocks, then lay on their backs, watching me.
It was so nice, as they followed me all the way along the beach, showing off something terribly I thought, as they would jump and dive and roll, then stop and look at me to see whether I was watching. I was enjoying their antics emmensely, until I fell into a hole, quite deep and water filled, and muddy, and I had some trouble getting out, until and old man came by and gave me a hand. I felt a bitty silly, but he warned me to watch out, as there were some really deep boggy holes, and he stated that he had once fell into one and sat there for ages, but luckily his loyal dog ran home and alerted his wife! Wow!!
Back at the Sheiling Liz had woken up, but was still in the early stages of her toilet, so I first went for a shower to wash off the mud and both from self and my shoes, then started making breakfast to see if we could start a bit earlier. We were going to Tobermory, and from there wherever the road took us. Liz was not happy, as can be seen on the photo of her eating her breakfast.
I wanted to see the Nun's caves, but we needed a whole day, and so far we were too late every morning, but I was set on seeing that, and I have warned Liz that I was going to empty a bucket of water over her if she wasn't up by eight and ready!

We had to sadly say goodbye to our wonderful little Staffa cottage where I enjoyed my loft room so much, although quite a few times I have hit my head unmercifully hard against the ceiling, that being of course so low that only a midget could stand up straight! When I woke up in the mornings, the first thing I did was look out of the window, and it was wonderful to see the world come alive from my wee nest!
That last morning I took a long walk, first up the mountain to try and find my deer couple whom I came to know quite well, as they grazed at the same spot every morning, and after a while they didn't bother to run away when they sensed my presence.To me that is the wonder of life, being able to sit quietly watching wild things go on their different missions.
The previous day we drove around, and also walked to some of the burned down crofters's houses that stood forlornly in the deserted and cold countryside amongst the ruined grazing fields.In 1821 there was a sound and self supporting population in Mull, about 10,000, and on Iona about 500. But sad times came upon Mull when some of the degenerate chiefs who lived too well and got into financial trouble I suppose, and stripped from their traditional powers after the uprise of 1845, sold their land to rich industrialists from England. This clan chiefs were directly responsible for the horrific clearings, resulting in poverty and exploited emigration.The new owners, mostly newly rich industrialists from England, wanted the land that was leased to the crofters for their sheep, so the people, who had nowhere else to go,and did not leave fast enough,  had their houses burned down and they were left destitute.
This clearings did not only happen on Mull, and it is said that On Ulva, the new lairds were exceptionally cruel in getting the crofters off their land. One story goes that this young laddy was carried out by his father while the new lairds and their helpers stood ready to burn down the little house.It is to me so sad that the goverment did nothing about this cruelty, and soon the sheep were grazing on the lands that was used to be cattle country, as cattle do not rake as much destruction as sheep, and slowly the lush grazing lands disappeared because of mismanagement. Today even more land disappear all the time under conifers that are taking over a lot of grazing pastures.
By the end of that century the population on Mull had decreased to about 4,500, and that of Iona to 500. Today Mull is mostly a tourist destination, but there is a sadness in the air that really upset me, as all the islands suffer under the goverment who are more interested in keeping big industries happy, doling out pittances to the islands, and keeping the economies just ticking over. The freight price for goods to and from Mull is high, and the price of petrol is also much higher than for instance in Oban.
I found Liz up and packed when I got back from my walk, and it was with sadness that I saw the little cottage disappear round the bend in the small road.

As it was now colder, the menace of the midge had disappeared, but I had anyways taken my Tabbard stick with, as their is nothing as annoying, when you pack out a wonderful lunch along a bubbling stream, and you can't eat, because every time you open your mouth, a couple of hundred fly in together with your food. It does spoil the moment!
If there is a slight breeze they are blown away, according to the know-alls, but I have found that it must be just about a gale force wind before this little pests disappear into the nothingness of the wide sky.I have found when having my barbeques along a loch or river, that as soon as my fire is lit, the charcoal fumes from my throw-away barby is a good deterrent, and I never really had trouble before, except if I parked myself on the grass along a wee stream, and tried to doze off a bit!
Their are a few outrageous stories about the super midge of Mull, but although they are told as the truth, everybody have to decide for him, or herself whether this stories could have the least bit of truth.
One story goes that the older midges always send the youngsters into people's tents to test out the blood groups, after having been taught the proper grip. If the blood from the poor fanatically scratching and arm waving people were the right kind, the old ones would follow up and have a wonderful feast, I suppose on their preferred blood group!
There is one story though, and apparently confirmed by bystanders, of a super midge landing on Glenforca airstrip, and this midge was filled up with twenty gallons of fuel before anyone realized that it was a super midge, and not a plane! Lol!!!
Our time was running out, and one day when we went through Craignure, we saw a group of huge white, and strange looking tents, so we turned off to see what it was. This tents are called 'sheilings', and it is for renting out, so we stopped at the little office, and booked ourselves four more nights, as there were still just too much to be seen on Mull.
'Sheiling' means the shelters that were built by shepherds and where they stayed while tending the sheep in the far off and lonely grazing fields.
I still wanted to visit the Nun's cave, but for that a whole day is needed, as the walk from where you start at I think Carsaig Bay, was quite hectic, so to be able to stay a while longer suited me fine, as I had five days on going back to Strathyre before my flight home.

Iona

The crossing over was to say the least scary! As it wasn't a large ferry, the wind plucked her around like a toy, and I opted to stand outside where I felt I had a better chance of jumping and swimming out than cooped up inside. Liz reluctantly joined me, as it was very cold, but she fortified herself by puffing up one cigarette after the other.
We were quite wet when we arrived at the other side, but the relieve of standing on dry ground again was so big that I didn't even bother about it.
It was quite a steep walk up to where the Abbey stood keeping watch over the island, and Liz's nicotine invaded lungs gave a bit of trouble, so we had to stop frequently, but there were always something to see, so it didn't matter too much, except for the fact that we were told that the last ferry would be in one and a half hour's time because of the weather. Iona, and the faith that st Columba brought to the island, was called 'The morning star of Scotland's faith, and later stretched to all over Scotland, North East Enland, and later, through the Vikings to Skandinavia, and all along the rhine valley of Europe.The Monks on Iona, besides the bringing of their faith to this Pagan land, were quite militant, but also very practical, and taught a lot of skills to the local people. Their knowledge of building, carving, and agriculture helped a lot to better the lives of the people, and their was also a family called Beaton, who were famous for teaching the art of Herbal medicine making, and this family conducted a whole medical service from Mull, throughout the Hebrides.
There are lots of pre-Reformation chapels all over Mull, and it is believed that during the days that lawlessness were at it's height, with a lot of bloodshed as a result, this influence from the monks of Iona kept civilization on the islands alive. I loved the Nunnery best, and stood with goose pimples just thinking of the hardship this nuns went through when they were banned from Ioana, and had to flee their beloved island.

puffins en iona

After my usual walk waiting for Liz to wake up, we decided to go to Iona for the day. I had a lovely morning, as I climbed up a small deer path, and came upon a whole group of deer grazing on a little patch of grass and shrubs that lay cosily between some huge boulders.
One thing I was very sad about was the fact that the Puffins, the beautiful bird on the picture, had already departed to wherever they depart to after raising their young. I would have loved to see this awesome bird with my own eyes!
But for now we were on our way to the small slipway in Fhionnport, where the short crossing to Iona started. It was quite a way, and we started early, after of course a bit of lip from Liz, who just is not an early riser, but we managed to get away by about eleven thirty. We had to drive all around loch Scridian, then loch Beg, passed Pennyghail and a lot of other small villages, all so pretty, and the landscape quite unbelievable!
We eventually came to Fhionport, where a group of happy kids were playing in the street, careering down the steep road in a homemade car made from old kist planks. It was a sight to brighten up everybody's day, as in present times kids just can not play anymore, well, they don't want to actually, as they get their excitement from the horrible computer games!
The wind was howling around the corners of the building from where we had to get tickets for the ferry, and the very nice man told us earnestly to please hold on to our tickets, as they have a lot of accidents where the wind blew the tickets from people's hands, and away over the sea. We thought he was joking, but when we got down to the slip, we knew that he wasn't joking, as the wind screamed through the small patch where we had to wait.I was a bitty scared, as the sea was angry! Big waves pushed themselves up from the depths, roll with amazing strength towards the land, then break with a huge splash and a loud roar over the slipway, and self was trembling like a jelly! Scared!
People were starting to arrive, and according to their rolling eyes and anxious peeps at the angry sea, they were as scared as me.
When the ferry arrived at last, I could see that the passengers emerging from the small ferry were all looking a bit rattled, their faces pinched and worried, but as soon as their feet were on land they relaxed, and started talking excitedly, maybe to camouflage the fact that they had thought back on the ferry, that their last hour had come!
When it was time for us to embark, everybody was holding back a bit, self and Liz included, and watching the different face expressions, it was evident that we were all unsure of our own sanity!

Quite close to us we saw a landing slip for ferries, and found that it was used by the Ulva ferrie. But also used by the private ferrie to the private island of Inch Kenneth, which was named after Kenneth, one of Columba's disciples.
This island used to belong to a very strange, and at the sound of it, a disfunctional family, by the name of  Redesdale, or Mitford,who had close relations, before the second world war, with Sir Oswald Mosley, the leader of a fascist group in Brittain called ' The British Union of Fascists, who later married Diana, one of the daughters.
One of the younger daughters, Unity, became quite notorious for her admiration of Hitler, and actually went over there to show her support, and he, it was said was on his part of course again very flattered by the admiration and attention of such a beautiful young girl. Or maybe he hoped to get a foothold in Britain by his association with Unity.
When the war eventually broke out Unity tried to commit suicide, and that with a pistol given to her by Hitler himself. She didn't die then, but she was paralyzed, and was shipped home as an invalid who died on the small island of Inch Kenneth in 1948.
The other girl, Jessica, was a communist, who later wrote a book about her strange family and her strange upbringing, called Hons.and Rebels.She wrote that on all the windows of their houses the swastika was scratched out with a diamond, and that she later did her bit by scratching out the hammer and sickle. Sounds to me like they all had a little screw loose
Anyhow, everybody to his own, and we had a little incident ourselves at little Staffa cottage!
As I said before, I did the cooking, and Liz looked after the fire, and that evening we came home a bit later than usual, so Liz donned her boots, in case the rat tried again to take a bite out of her feet, to get wood for the fire. She was happy to go to the barn alone, of course with the dogs to warn her of danger, so off she went, very happy after her glass of red, and I went on with my job.
I was as happy as a lark, singing while peeling the tatties, as we were having tatties and mince for dinner, with an apple tart and cream as dessert, when once again I was bally shocked to the depths of my core by Liz who suddenly started screaming, putting up a performance fit to wake the poor giantess witch of Loch Ba! I threw down knife and tattie, and legged it outside, sure to find some huge monster devouring my friend, but I was almost ran into the dust by same friend, who passed me like a bolt of lightning, screaming at the top of her voice!
So I went on to the barn, must say with trembling legs, to see what the boo-hoo was about,as I knew there were none of the beasties, the ones that eat people, from Africa around here, so it could only be some harmless member of the fauna group of Scotland! I slowly put my head around the door that was halfway closed, and the next moment something black and screeching came from somewhere above, and the next moment the whole place was full of flying black things, and they all made a dive for my head! I did NOT stop to see what it was, but also put up a good performance, and only stopped my own screeching when I made it unharmed to our door, and slammed it shut.
Both of us was a bitty unhinged, and Lizzy sat trembling, her big brown eyes rolling fearfully in her head, taking huge gulps from her wine, and I sommer poured myself a stiff one too.
When we had calmed down a bit, we tried to figure out what the monsters were, and on thinking it over rationally, we decided that Liz had unsettled a colony of bats that were just on their way to their hunting grounds when she went into the barn!
We decided to get the wood out before we went out in the mornings! Phew!!

We had to go straight for a shower on coming back from the cave, as we were smeared with caked mud, having had a few more mud baths on our way back. But it was such a fantastic cave, and even the walk there, with the dark overhanging cliffs that looked like vultures ready to pounce on us, an awesome sight.
After we each had our shower we drove to the Mausoleum, where we spent some time and read all about the life of General-Major Lachlan MacQuearie , who used to be Governer of Australie, and who was, together with his wife, very sympathetic towards the criminals exported there. There are a lot of names still, of people from Mull, some of his own family, on the Western seaboard, and it is said that a lot of Brittain's miserable poor committed crimes in the hope of being sent to Australie in the hope of a better life.
As it was too late to go too far, we went on a little road to loch Ba, the second largest on Mull, that was apparently a fisherman's paradise. We drove on the small, muddy road starting at Knock farm for a while, but at a certain point we had to leave the car and walk, and as usual Lizzy moaned and groaned, said that she just did not need two mud baths in one day, but I have learned to to turn a deaf ear, and just kept up my what I reckoned was a bright and cheery monologue! I wanted to trudge further, as it was so beautiful, but Liz put up such a bally boo-hoo that I reluctantly agreed to go back.
There is a real sad story connected to loch Ba. Long, long ago, there lived on the island an old giantess witch, who was so tall that she could wade across the Sound of Mull without getting wet, as the water only came up to her knees. Her cattle used to graze on land to the West of Mull that is not visible anymore, as the sea had claimed them long ago, and the smaller islands around Mull was apparently formed by stones that she spilled from a creel she was carrying.
Loch Ba once had the magical power to restore youth to the aged, and this witch, called Caliach Bheur, restored her youth every morning of her hundredth birthaday, by emmersing herself in the waters of Loch Ba. But this had to be done before she heard any noise from a living soul, as then the spell would be broken. Then one morning, as the hundred year old Caliach made her precarious way down to Loch Ba, struggling over the sharp pebbles on the beach, a Collie dog started barking, and it came faintly to the poor old witch's ears, and there and then her bones started crumbling, and she expired just a few yards from the magical waters!
It is actually so sad that this old witch had to die, as she was extremely good natured, never putting bad spells on people or animals, and she even refused the calls of the jealous wife of the Chief of Douart, to sink the Spanish Galleon in the bay of Tobermory!
Liz wanted back, but I was still happy to sit on the beach and imagine the old witch coming down the mountain every hundred years to be made young again.

mcKinnon's cave

I managed to get Liz up at about ten the next morning, as we had to be down at the beach to start for MacKinnon's cave the moment the tide had gone out far enough to make it safe.Liz as always being very hard to wake up, glared at me through half-closed eyes, and hissed menacingly through clenched lips'You know not to harass me when I'm sleeping' , before turning her face to the wall. I took no notice, as I felt that for once she could also give in to my wishes, so I stood my ground and kept on talking to her about everything I could think of, until she gave one earsplitting growl, and jumped out of bed so fast that poor Benny and Stouty flew from the bed like two fluffy pieces of cloth, hitting the floor with resounding bumps!
But at least she was up and I quickly made her a cuppa, after which she did her usual early morning thing, that of course being to sit at the table looking absolutely woebegone while sipping her coffee and giving long and frantic pulls at her cigarette.
The problem was that the farmer told me not to go to the cave alone, as there have been some accidents, and if I fell and the tide overfalls me, I could be in big trouble, so Liz just had to come, like it or not. Luckily she also wanted to see the cave, otherwise I don't think that she would have been dressed and ready in what was for her a record time.
The walk down was not a happy one for Liz, as the path became very steep and muddy, and she was so busy complaining about all this, and the fact that I was a monster to expect her to be walking and rolling in the mud at this time of the morning, that I don't think she saw any of the beauty around her. And with the sun fully out, and the beautiful cliffs hanging mysteriously over the beach like guardian angels, it was indeed a wonderful walk and I was just about to tell Liz to stop complaining, when she slipped in the mud, landing with her bum in a deliciously muddy pool.
The growls she let out was almost not human, and I was laughing my head off, but then my feet slipped and I ended up next to that damsel in distress! That was so funny to both of us that we sat there in the middle of nowhere, each in our own puddle of mud, laughing like two teenage girls with raging hormones!
The last bit down to the beach was extremely steep, and we had a few falls, but as we were already muddy, it did nor bother us, as long as we got to the beach unharmed.
The cave is named after the Abbot MacKinnon, whose tomb is in Iona Abbey, next to the altar.
First thing we saw after a hefty scramble and some difficult climbing over some huge rocks, was a small quite beautiful waterfall, and right next to that was the opening to the cave. The entrance was huge, and penetrates deeply into the earth, and it was extremely dark, so that without the strong light, that we brought on the farmer's advice, you couldn't go in further than the outside light shines in.
It opens up into a big chamber, where a huge square rock almost like a table is the first thing you see. This rock is called MacKinnon's table.
According to folklore, there are a family of bad fairies living in the cave, and this fairies once killed a group of tourists, led by a pipe player, whose life they spared. This piper then had to keep on playing for them until he fell dead! Well, I did not feel like going in too far, as all the hair on my head and body were standing up straight from a fear that I could not explain, so we kind of ran out and departed quite hastily!

It was so nice not to be sitting glued to the television watching one of the few programs of interest, although I do find the English programs quite good.But to sit in that small cottage, ensconced in the quiet darkness like a silkworm safely inside its cocoon, was blissful. By now Benny had come to grips with all the noises his ears picked up, but the poor thing just could not relax, sitting bolt upright in front of the door, ears pricked, eyes never leaving the door, always at the ready to protect his clan, but not growling anymore! Maybe his throat was sore!
I was up with the birds the next morning, and packed myself a cold breakfast, filled the flask with tea, and set out at first light to look for MacKinnons cave that was supposed to be close to Staffa, but so far I could find no thoroughfare to get down to the sea, as there were strong fences everywhere. The previous time I saw this farm called Balmeanach, and according to Peter MacNab's book, 'The Highways and Byways of Mull and Iona', the path leading down to the beach ran across this farm.
The same friendly dog came to meet me at the gate, and I then realized why he had tried so hard the last time to shoo me into the gate. He was used to people coming through his grounds to go down to the beach, and just showed them that they are very welcome.
When I passed the house, the farmer came out, and he gave me some information about how to get down easily to the beach, as it was extremely rough terrain at some places, but said that the tide was coming in at the moment, and it would be some time before I could attempt to walk to the cave, as the cave was waterlogged at high tide.
It was a lovely morning, the sun shining down warmly on my back as I took the small road downwards. It was absolutely beautiful and wild all around, and after I struggled a bit getting down from the now very muddy path and onto the beach, I stood in awe at the beauty of the huge boulders, which looked to be hard to get passed, but I scrambled to the top of one that was quite far from the roaring water trying to drown everything in it's way. I had my breakfast high up on that rock overlooking the raging sea that was spitting out black seaweed from it's dark and mysterious depths, the only thing around me that was not at peace, just basking in the wonderful sunshine.
I had to go back all too soon, but decided to walk to the cave the next day, and if Liz was prepared to walk so far, she was welcome to go with, as today we were going to Dervaig to have tea in this small bookshop, where apparently you sit at a table amongst all the books and the owner entertains you with tales of the village, and apparently also have a wonderful knowledge about literature, both old and new, if you so wish.
Liz and self have definitely not the same interests, she being more of a city sleeker, who mostly enjoyed jewelery shops, and if it was up to her, we would be forever browsing in a pottery shop, or an art studio or such, while all the beauty outside would be glanced at and forgotten. I also like the shops, but I prefer to climb up a mountain, or down into a glen, and sit watching and waiting for nature to pass by. That is why I am not too bothered if Lizzy sleeps so late, for I could get in quite a lot of hiking and enjoying the wilds.