Morning in Oban

View that greeted me out our front window this morning, and a view of Loch Awe from the sundial terrace at St. Conan’s Kirk.

Loch Awe & St. Conan's Kirk August 3, 2011

A few things I forgot to mention before:

--Oban is pronounced “O-bun,” but I forget that every time I say it.

--other famous visitors to Fingal’s Cave include: William Wordsworth, Jules Verne, Alice Liddell (the inspiration for Aice inWonderland) David Lingstone and Robert Louis Stevenson.

--I mentioned yesterday that the children’s TV show “Balamory” is filmed in Tobermory. The BBC funded the painting of the harbourfront houses in their colorful colors. Later someone started giving tours for children to come visit the city, which thrilled the children when they arrived to see all their favorite characters’ houses.

One day a little boy went up to the yellow house where Josie Jump is supposed to live. This is where real-life owner, Richard Stojak, ran a hotel painted yellow. When the show started, he used to welcome guests by pretending to be Josie's dad. Then his wife left him and I suppose he got cranky. The BBC says Stojak told some young guests that he had killed Josie and buried her under the patio. He says he can't remember doing anything of the sort, but the producers have moved out of the hotel where they usually stayed and built another house for Josie in the village—they moved the character to another hotel at which they have created a wooden copy of her yellow balcony. They say that Mr. Stojak has now moved away.

--An American man, Jock Elliot Jr. of New York, as an imaginative way to honor the 60th birthday of his wife, Eleanor in 1986, bought Fingal’s Cave for her as a surprise gift for £200,000. She wasn’t too happy about it though and regifted it to the National Trust for Scotland. Word is that she wanted a different kind of rock.

--For the building of McCaig’s Folly, John Stuart McCaig was his own architect. McCaig's intention was to provide a lasting monument to his family, and provide work for the local stonemasons during the winter months. McCaig was an admirer of Roman and Greek architecture, and had planned for an elaborate structure, based on the Colosseum in Rome. His plans allowed for a museum and art gallery with a central tower to be incorporated. Inside the central tower he planned to commission statues of himself, his siblings and their parents. His death before its completion brought an end to construction with only the outer walls completed. In his will, he stipulated that huge photographs of him and his family be placed in the folly, but his sibling had the will overturned. The empty shell of the tower dominates the Oban skyline, and is now a public garden with magnificent views to the islands of Kerrera, Lismore, and Mull.

Today we decided to visit Loch Awe. Several historic buildings stand on the banks of the loch, including the Loch Awe Hotel, the 15th century Kilchurn castle, and St. Conan’s Kirk with its eclectic design and gargoyles that include dogs, hares, and even the face of its architect, Walter Campbell. Walter Douglas Campbell, younger brother of the First Lord Blythswood, bought from the Marquis of Breadalbane the Island of Innischonam, on which he built for himself a stately mansion-house. Here he settled with his sister Helen and his mother. Local tradition has it that the elder Mrs. Campbell found the long drive to the parish church in Dalmally too much for her and that her son accordingly decided to build her a church nearby. Well, this isn’t just any church. It is an amazing amalgamation of eclectic style from every page of architecture.

I kind of feel like a kindred spirit with this architect because if I was going to build a kirk or a castle, this exactly what I would do--pull in all the things I loved andput them into the building of such a magnificent place. It even had a sign that I should carry around with me at all times, seeing as how clumsy I am. It said: BEWARE OF STEPS.

Walter Campbell was a man of many talents, all of which he devoted to the kirk. He was a most capable if somewhat unorthodox architect, a collector of objets d'art and a skilled woodcarver. The original church, which was begun in 1881 and finished about 1886, was a comparatively small and simple building, although adequate to the needs of the small congregation. It occupied what is now the nave, and a part of the choir of the present kirk. But Walter Campbell was not satisfied with this. He began to dream of a far nobler building.

He started work on this in 1907, and devoted the rest of his life to its execution. He died in 1914, and work had to be suspended during the First World War; but as soon as it was possible, his sister Helen carried out the plans which he had left. She in her turn died in 1927, and the project was finally completed by their Trustees. Work was necessarily slow, for not only was no labor brought in from outside, but the stone of which the kirk was built was not quarried, but consisted of boulders lying on the slopes of the hill above, which were rolled down, split and shaped on the spot.

Walter Campbell was his own architect. He did not allow himself to be held back by convention or orthodoxy. Although most of the kirk is in a Norman or Romanesque style, he included not only early and late types of this but other and totally different styles. He was more anxious to achieve beauty than consistency. Rumor even has it that he deliberately tried to include examples of every type of ecclesiastical architecture found in Scotland, and this is perhaps borne out by the circle of Standing Stones at the entrance gate.

The north side of the kirk, which faces the visitor as he enters, is, although pleasing, relatively simple, but the south side, that overlooking the loch, is extremely elaborate. It is most easily approached round the far or west end, passing on the left the beauty patterned lead roof of the Cloister Garth. High on a knoll to the right is the tall Celtic Cross which the builder erected in memory of his mother. Low down on the wall at the west end is a tablet bearing the initials of Walter Douglas Campbell and his sister Helen and the Lymphad of Lorne which is a characteristic of the Campbell arms, and which is repeated many times inside the building.

The view from the sundial terrace on the south side is one of the most beautiful in the West Highlands, and it was this which determined the site of the church. Immediately below are the waters of Loch Awe, which wind away out of sight for more than twenty miles to the south. Away to the Northeast rises Ben Lui, snow-capped for half the year, overlooking the three great glens of the Lochy, the Orchy and the Strae. Directly opposite is the long ridge, which separates the basin of Loch Awe from Loch Fyne, and (on a fine day) just appearing over it, the peak of Ben Buie. Today was just such a day, and the view was incredible. To the right on the far side of the loch is the thickly wooded promontory of Innistrynich, site of an ancient monastery. A little nearer, two dark islands, one of which was the stronghold of the MacNaughtons, and behind these Innishail, the Green Isle, which has for hundreds of years been the burial ground of the people of Loch Awe side. Further right again is another dark island close to the shore. This is Innischonain, the home of the builders of the kirk.

The church has no level foundations but clings to the steep hillside, with the result that this southern face is perched upon terraces and retaining walls dropping far below the level of the floor. It was on this lofty facade that the builder really gave full vent to his imagination. It is said that he spent long hours here, gradually evolving in his mind the beautiful building which was to be. Doubtless it was the memory of the long days so spent which inspired the inscriptions on the dial itself, "The day dawns and the shadows flee away" (Song of Solomon iv. 6), and on the surrounding parapet, "Thy sun shall no more go down" (Is. lx. 20). So anxious was he that the sundial should be exactly as he wished it that it is related that it was erected and pulled down again no less than seven times before he was satisfied. Below the terrace runs St. Modan's Walk. (St. Modan was a saint of the Celtic Church who lived in the eighth century and whose name is connected with Argyll, and particularly the parish of Ardchattan nearby.) Along the walk, let into the face of the terrace, are a series of panels inscribed with quotations from the Benedicite calling upon all God's created things to glorify His name. On top of the church are spires on which are displayed what look like a Thistle and a Templar Cross.
Turning to the kirk itself, the larger square tower is pure Saxon, with its "longs and shorts" designs, its queer-shaped windows, and stones decorated with strange fern-like patterns. It is adapted from the old Saxon church of Monkwearmouth in Durham. The smaller tower comes from Picardy. The two flying buttresses are to give strength and to break up the outline of the wa1ls. To the left on the roof are three gargoyles, representing a dog chasing two hares. These are wonderful examples of modern leadwork by the same craftsman, William Bonnington, who executed the roofs of the Cloister Garth. His descendants still live in the village.

I loved the spiral staircase to who knows where. But the door was locked to get to it. After the kirk and for a near-aerial view of the loch, we headed for the Duncan Ban MacIntyre monument out of Dalmally. A short hike up the hil gave us the most amazing view of the loch and Kilchurn Castle below.

MacIntyre, the Gaelic Bard, although strictly illiterate because the parish school was too far away, gained honor and fame with his songs and poems, especially his celebration of his native hills and forests and their wild life. Kilchurn Castle is a ruined structure built about 1450 by Sir Colin Campbell as a five storey tower house with a courtyard and outer wall. In 1760, the castle was badly damaged by lightning and was completely abandoned. The remians of a turret of a tower are still resting upside-down in the center of the courtyard and attest to the violence of the storm. Today, its picturesque setting and romantic state of decay make it one of the most photographed structures in Scotland.Also below was the turretted and very pretty Carraig Thura. This is an old hotel that a British couple bought in 1999 for £300,000 and have been remodeling ever since. They are now selling it for £695,000 and moving to a farm. Carraig Thura had been a hotel after the war and then a nursing home for 15 years. The castle was built in 1904 as a private house in the Gothic revival Scots Baronial style for an entrepreneur who owned a large hotel in the village. In the Daily Mail article on the internet, the owner said that the sitting room had hideous floral-print wallpaper inside the gorgeous plaster panels. There were fitted carpets everywhere and 17 horrible bathrooms in shades of avocado and chocolate.Dinner at home. Maybe another ferry trip tomorrow.

Pictures from top: strange chair near altar; lovely spiral staircase; back of the church; hare gargoyle; inner cloister courtyard.

More from Iona

Windows in the abbey; advertisements for Bug Accomodations by Primary school children; child on the sandy beach on Iona; nosey goats in Fionnphort.

Iona

Scarecrows in garden of Primary School; on the left is the Ridge of Kings in ancient cemetery on Iona; Iona Abbey; grave slabs of warriors in the Abbey museum—taken from the cemetery; Iona Cloister.

Lunga and Staffa

from top: “Deadliest Catch” Treshnish style; fellow passengers climbing down rocks to get into boat; seals near Lunga; Isle of Staffa; Fingal’s Cave.

Four Islands in a Day August 2, 2011

We woke up super-early at 5 this morning—aren’t we supposed to be on vacation?—to take the Treshnish Circle tour of the islands. It was already misty as we made our way to the ferry terminal. The trip to Mull was uneventful. The bus trip on Mull quite bouncy on a single-track road all the way to Fionnphort (supposedly pronounced "finny-fort"). Once there, we were told to wait for the special boat that would take us to all 3 islands, not just the ones the other people were going to. It was us and a group of 4 others from South Africa. The minute the trip began, we should have known this was to be a real adventure.

First off, there was no real dock here. We had to step from the ramp for the ferryboat up to the little boat and then down into the boat. Okay. No problem. The real problem started when the captain announced that the toilet on the boat wasn’t working. Okay. Of course, as soon as he said that, I had to pee.
So we all assume that means that there are toilets along our way today. So we near the island of Lunga, the largest of the Treshnish Isles.

The Treshnish Isles is an archipelago of small islands and skerries, lying west of Mull, and are part of the Inner Hebrides. They were formed of layer-upon-layer of Basaltic lava that orignated from the Mull volcano around 60 million years ago. The larger islands include Fladda and Lunga and Bac Mor (Dutchman's Cap), which looks just like that. Other islands could easily be mistaken for aircraft carriers on misty days like this. On the way, we saw many puffins flying around. The captain had told us that we might not see any as it is time for them to leave after raising their young who may have already left.

Our destination was Lunga, the largest of the group. It appeared almost as two islands in one with a low plateau occupying the south and a rocky northern half rising to a peak some 100 meters above sea level. Our boat slowed down then began inching ever closer to some very black and slippery-looking rocks. So no dock here either? No. We literally had to climb up onto the side of the boat and hold onto a very little rail and inch our way sideways along the edge of the boat then step off—taking our lives into our hands—onto the VERY slippery black rocks. OMG!!!! Are you kidding me?

So the captain’s assistant is telling us that the owners of the island won’t let them do any maintenance on the island, so there are a) no restrooms and b) no paths. We are told that to see the puffins, which evidently is the whole point of this exercise of which I was unaware, we have to kind of guess our way across the very slippery pillars of rocks and stones and potholes filled with water to get over to the grassy area. Okay, so all of us are off the boat and the captian says he’ll be back in TWO HOURS. That they’ll be just offshore, fishing. TWO HOURS!?!

So we very carefully make our way across the rocks and make it to the grassy area, but it is just as slippery and now we have to go down the hill on the slippery grass. And mind you there is no path here. We are just guessing that the way we go will end up somewhere safe. So it’s down the slippery grass and then to more slippery rocks with wide stretches of water to step across, too. Then UP another stretch of slippery grass, WAY UP, with a warning sign that says you are taking your own risks if you continue. Well, we continue, climbing higher and higher until we get to more slippery grass that is right on the edge of a huge cliff. Evidently, this is not the Harp Rock where most of the puffins live but THAT rock is WAY UP another very steep hill with yet another warning sign. And it is a stack divided from Lunga by a deep, narrow chasm anyway, so we wouldn’t be able to get a close up look at the puffins if we did make the climb. With the weather getting worse by the moment, we decide that whatever kind of birds live on this level, we are fine with. We are high enough. As it turned out, there were some puffins here, living in what looked like rabbit holes on the edge of the cliff and just over the edge. We’d be standing there and suddenly a puffin would pop out of its burrow and fly off the cliff, beating its wings ever so fast. There were thousands of birds in various combinations of black, white and grey.

There were Black Guillemots, Razorbills, Black-Backed Gulls, Greylag Geese, Kittiwakes, Shags, Arctic Terns, Manx Shearwaters, and, in the water, seals and porpoises. And yes, it was very cool to see all this, but I was a bit distracted. We stayed up top then ever so gingerly made our way back down the slope to the lower rocks. It was even hard to find a rock to sit upon as there was so much …well, bird poop all over every surface. We had some snacks that we had brought with us and enjoyed the brisk breeze. Until the breeze stopped and then came the little flying bugs that want to get right in your face. Oh please captain, just come back now.
Of volcanic origin, Lunga has been described as “a green jewel in a peacock sea.” Flowers of all kinds bloomed all around us. The island, small as it is, was once inhabited in the 1700s by as much as 16 people, but nowadays seabirds and tourists have taken over their place. Populated until the 19th century, Lunga still bears the remains of black houses. To the northeast of the island lie the remains of the ruined village, which was abandoned in 1857, but we didn’t see it. We did see a lovely lagoon that was right out of a photo book and I wondered why the captain couldn’t have stopped the boat there.

SO…two hours later, the boat is approaching and he seems to be going to a different spot. He is edging his way closer and closer to the fierce looking rocks on this small cliff. We make our way over to him and I can’t believe that we have to reboard the boat this way. The captain’s assistant is standing with one foot on the side of the boat and the other on rocks that are even higher on the cliff and more slippery. And he reaches his hand out to me and tells me which rocks to step on. Over a wide chasm that falls down to the sea man, many feet below! At this point, I will do anything to get off this restroomless island, but I must say that this departure from the island was terrifying. It visibly shook up two of the other women who sat stonily silent for much of the time afterwards.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am vry glad that we went on this adventure. The islands were gorgeous and seeing the birds up close was fun. If only someone had thought to install restrooms for the visitors.

So we are back on the boat and the captain says that when we get to Staffa, that there will be other boats and we can use their restrooms. Only trouble is, when we get to Staffa, there are no other boats near. So still no restrooms.
After Lunga, we headed to Staffa. The name Staffa comes from the Old Norse for stave or pillar island. Staffa is an entirely volcanic island of the Inner Hebrides. The Vikings gave it this name as its columnar basalt reminded them of their houses, which were built from vertically placed tree-logs. These formations were created by the cooling and contracting of molten lava, resulting in the hexagonal columns. These basalt columns are the end of the Giant's Causeway that begins in Northern Ireland. Staffa consists of a basement of tuff, underneath colonnades of a black fine-grained Tertiary basalt, overlying which is a third layer of basaltic lava lacking a crystalline structure. By contrast, slow cooling of the second layer of basalt resulted in an extraordinary pattern of predominantly hexagonal columns which form the faces and walls of the principal caves. The lava contracted towards each of a series of equally spaced centers as it cooled and solidified into prismatic columns. The columns typically have three to eight sides, six being most common.

Staffa's most famous feature is Fingal’s Cave, a large sea cave located near the southern tip of the island formed in cliffs of hexagonal basalt columns. The cave is the legendary home of Fingal the Giant. The cave is 227 ft. deep and 66 ft. high. The surging of waves against the basalt columns inside makes a strangely haunting musical sound that inspired Mendelssohn to write the “Hebrides Overture” after his visit here. He held the tune in his mind until he got back to the mainland, but as he approached the piano at his hotel, he was reminded that it was Sunday and no one could play the piano. So he had to hold it in his thoughts a day longer. Other famous visitors were Queen Victoria and John Keats.

However inspiring the scenery, it was not an easy place to live. In 1772 there was but a single family living on a diet of barley oats, flax and potatoes, and whatever their grazing animals could provide. By the end of the 18th century they had deserted Staffa, apparently terrified by the severity of winter storms. AND NO TOILETS, NO DOUBT!

The Cave was astonishingly beautiful. The captain took us to the mouth of it in the boat and let us take pictures then pulled the boat around to yet anotehr NON-dock that can only be used in calm conditions as it is even scary than the one at Lunga. Ray went ashore with the other guy onboard, but all the women onboard stayed on the boat, wary of slipping on the rocks and climbing what looked like a very rickety aluminum and concrete stairway to the grassy flat top of the island. To get to the cave, you had to pick your way over a mass of giant stepping stone which in places became uneven and narrow and were also slippery. One wrong step here, and you were in terrible danger.

Ray reached the cave and entered by a narrow ledge of columns leading into the darkness. The arched mouth of the cave lines up with Iona. Then he climbed the stairway to the flat top of the island.

After Staffa, we finally headed to Iona where the first order of business was to find the restrooms! After that, we leisurely strolled through the nunnery. Unlike the rest of the Abbey buildings, the 13th century nunnery has not been restored since being made derelict during the Reformation. The pink granite walls that remain, despite being ruinous, are amongst the best examples of a medieval nunnery left in Britain. The nuns were said to live a strict life of prayer and contemplation. Some of the nuns were thought to have fled to a cave during the Reformation. Situated on the coast at Carsaig on Mull, the 'Nun's Cave' has crosses carved into its inner walls. The last abbess died in 1543 and her grave slab is in the museum showing minute details of her clothing. Between Mull and Iona is an island called Eilean nam Ban (Island of Women) where women were sent and left when they weren’t wanted on Iona any longer.

We passed the primary school playground. Here were a line of adorable scarecrows leaning against a fence and a display of advertisements for Bug Hotels that the children had made. In 1773 when Boswell and Johnson visited Iona, no one could read or write and there were no schools or churches. The island was so poor when Sir Walter Scott visited in the early 1800s that the children were almost naked and trying to sell pebbles to tourists. There were too many people on the island then (400). Today the population is less than 100 and it has the smallest library in Scotland.

On this visit, I found a St. Mary’s Chapel ruins that I hadn’t noticed before. According to tradition the Iona monastery was founded in 563 by the monk Columba, also known as Colm Cille, who had been exiled from his native Ireland as a result of his involvement in the Battle of Cul Dreimhne. (But the Druids were here before Columba got here. They had come here to escape persecutions by Imperial Rome and they founded a library here and there was a Christian cemetery here before 540 that was used as a royal burial ground. Druidic rituals were performed on the steep rocks of Cnoc Druidean.) Columba and twelve companions went into exile on Iona, then part of the Irish kingdom of Dal Riata, and founded a monastery there. The monastery was hugely successful, and played a crucial role in the conversion to Christianity of the Picts of present-day Scotland in the late 6th century and of the Anglo-Saxon kingdom of Northumbria in 635.

Iona quickly became a renowned center of learning, and its scriptorium produced highly important documents, likely including the original texts of the Iona Chronicle, thought to be the source for the early Irish Annals. The monastery is often associated with the distinctive practices and traditions known as Celtic Christianity. The Book of Kells, a famous illuminated manuscript, is believed to have been produced by the monks of Iona in the years leading up to 800.

The Abbey at Iona was built in 1203 although present building dates from the 16th century. The nave slopes down to the altar of Iona marble. Iona is the birthplace of the Celtic cross. St. Columba’s shrine where he used to pray is a tiny chapel just beside the door to the Abbey. In 563, Columba came to Iona from Ireland with twelve companions, and founded a monastery which grew to be an influential centre for the spread of Christianity among the Picts and Scots. Kings were crowned, and also buried, on Iona. In 806, vikings massacred 68 monks in Martyrs' Bay. Columba's monks returned to Ireland to a Monastery at Kells. Other monks from Iona fled to the Continent and established monasteries in Belgium, France, and Switzerland. In 825, St. Blathmac and those monks who had returned with him to Iona, were martyred by a further Viking raid, and the Abbey burned. However, it was probably not deserted. Its continued importance is shown by the death there in 980 of Amlaib Cuaran, a retired King of Dublin.

In front of the Abbey stands the 9th century St Martin's Cross, one of the best-preserved Celtic crosses in the British Isles, and a replica of the 8th century St John's Cross (original fragments in the Abbey museum). The museum also contained many grave slabs with warriors and swords. St. Martin’s Cross has stood in this spot on Iona for over a thousand years. The characteristic ring of Celtic crosses began on Iona and spread to Ireland. Its main purpose was to provide support for the arms of the cross. Close to this cross is a small hill known as Tor Abb which was St. Columba’s cell—where he slept.

There is talk of Mary Magdalene having been on Iona. As a matter of fact, there is a grave on the island above the Abbey called Cladh-an-Diseart (Cladh-Iain) or “Burial Ground of the Highest God.” This is said to be the burial ground of John Martinus—the last son of Mary Magdalene and Jesus. The slipway just below it is called Port-an-diseart or “Port of the Highest God.” And on St. Martin’s Cross (Crois Mhartuinn), which was sculptured by Gilchrist, is a mother and child assumed to be the Virgin Mary and Jesus, but some say it is in truth Mary Magdalene and John Martinus.

At the end of the 8th century, the west coast of Scotland including Iona was ravaged by a series of Viking raids causing the surviving monks to flee. But many of them were killed and the buildings destroyed. In 806, Martyrs Bay next to the restaurant where we had lunch was the scene of the merciless slaughter of 68 monks at the hands of Norse invaders. This bay has also provided a landing place for funeral processions where the remains of kings and chiefs were taken ashore. Their coffins rested on a grassy knoll before moving on to the Reilig Odhran graveyard.

On this visit, I also walked more leisurely through the ancient cemetery. This ancient burial ground is beside the abbey and is called the Rèilig Odhrain with its Ridge of Kings. It contains the 12th century chapel of St. Odhran (said to be Columba’s uncle), restored at the same time as the Abbey itself. It contains a number of medieval grave monuments and the graves of many early Scottish Kings, as well as where some 60 kings from Scotland, Ireland, Norway and France are allegedly buried, including Macbeth!

Iona was the burial site for the kings of Dal Riata and their successors. Notable burials there include:
· Cinaed mac Alpin, king of the Picts (also known today as "Kenneth I of Scotland")
· Domnall mac Causantin, alternatively "king of the Picts" or "king of Alba" (i.e. Scotland; known as "Donald II")
· Mael Coluim mac Domnaill, king of Scotland ("Malcolm I")
· Donnchad mac Crinain, king of Scotland ("Duncan I")
· Mac Bethad mac Finlaich, king of Scotland ("Macbeth")
· Domnall mac Donnchada, king of Scotland ("Domnall Bán" or "Donald III")
In 1549 an inventory of 48 Scottish, 8 Norwegian and 4 Irish kings was recorded. None of these graves are now identifiable (their inscriptions were reported to have worn away at the end of the 17th century). Saint Baithin and Saint Failbhe may also be buried on the island. Adjoing the cemetery is part of the medieval “Street of the Dead” along which funeral processions passed.

Reginald, son of Somerled (Lord of the Isles), founded the nunnery in 1200 and installed his sister, Beatrice, as its first prioress. One of only two Augustinian Orders in Scotland, the nunnery earned itself the name 'An Eaglais Dhubh' - the black church - after the color of nuns' robes. The gravestone of the last prioress (Prioress Anna Maclean) is so detailed in its carving as to give a clear depiction of her dress. It is now displayed in the museum.Pebbles called “Mermaid’s Tears” are found here. The legend goes that a mermaid fell in love with a monk who prayed for her to have speech and a human heart and soul. The prayer was answered but she ungratefully wanted her old life back. When she came ashore to meet the monk, she begged to be rid of his gifts. He refused and she shed tears that petrified at his feet. What a sad story. I also found the multi-colored pebbles blessed by St. columba that sailors carried as charms against drowning.The 13th century cloister was beautiful as ever. After exploring the Abbey, we walked back into town and had a snack of chips (French fries) and ice cream at the Martyr’s Bay Restaurant. Then I walked down onto the Martyr’s Beach to look for shells.

The ferry arrived at 5:15 and took us back to Mull where we caught the bus again. The Isle of Mull is the best place to see several pairs of rare white-tailed or sea eagles which nest and fish around the island and can be spotted in the skies or hurtling toward the water as they hunt for fish with their giant 8.2 feet wingspan. The BBC children's TV series Balamory features the town of Tobermory on the island and other movies such as Highlander and I Know Where I’m Going were filmed here. I had just finished reading the book, “Four Ducks on a Pond,” which was set at Achaban House on Mull and today we passed right by it and its Druid Stone—the 7 foot 10 ½ inches high standing stone, between 4-5,000 years old and aligned to the North Star, stands in the garden close to the house. The house is now a B&B and the 150 year old stable has been turned into a self-catering cottage.Once in Craignure, we caught the ferry back to Oban then had a horrible dinner at the Pancake House. I should have listened to the reviews, but we SO wanted some comfort food and were missing Waffle House. We are exhausted.

Pictures from top: two from sunset last night on the bay; Eilean Musdile Lighthouse on the way to Mull; Duart Castle on Mull; Razorbill on Lunga.