Up North
South Uist which is a three hour boat trip from Mallaig is not over-burdened with tourist attractions. And this year was a good year [a bad year ?] for midges which would discourage many people. There are magnificent, deserted beaches on the western side of the island, flanked by the machair, a distinctive form of grass dunes generously sprinkled with wild flowers.
It grows very thickly, as I discovered when I played golf at Askernish. Which is a links course originally laid out by ‘Old’ Tom Morris in 1891 and since painstakingly restored. The American golf writer John Garrity ranks Askernish top of his list of the world’s top fifty golf courses, describing it as “closer to a perfect 10 than any other course”. I lost three balls before I even reached the first fairway ! And was quite relieved to be only playing the first six holes.
Eriskay which has been joined to South Uist by a causeway since 2001 is a small island with a population of about a hundred and fifty. It was on Eriskay, at Coilleag A’ Phrionnsa [Prince’s Cockle Strand] that Bonnie Prince Charlie first set foot in Scotland in July 1745. [The story is that Alasdair MacDonald of Boisdale promptly advised him to go home again.] It was also on the rocks off Eriskay that the SS Politician ran aground in 1941 with a cargo of 28, 000 bottles of whisky destined for Jamaica and New Orleans. The thirsty islanders saw this as an unexpected godsend, and managed to salvage several hundred cases, in spite of attempts by the Home Guard to prevent them. The episode provided the basis for a novel by Compton Mackenzie, published in 1947. Which in turn became a film, Whisky Galore, made by Ealing Studios in 1949, starring Basil Radford and Joan Greenwood. And a more recent re-make in 2016 with Eddie Izzard. On a gloriously sunny day we walked across the beach to have lunch in the island pub, Am Politician, and then back to the car collecting a bag full of razor clams to use as slug deterrent.
Back on South Uist we visited the RSPB reserve at Loch Druidibeg. An information hoard told me how to distinguish male and female hen harriers, but we found only a gaggle of inquisitive wild ponies. Hoping for food. We passed close to the birthplace of Flora MacDonald at Milton;”… a name that will be mentioned in history, and if courage and fidelity be virtues, mentioned with honour” [Samuel Johnson]. And we spent a couple of hours in the small museum at Kildonan, which has a mass of information about crofting and other aspects of life in Benbecula and the Uists.
Our first day on Skye was very wet, with mist down to knee-level. Our B&B was fifteen minutes drive out of Portree, at Camusnavaig overlooking the sea. We had a delightfully decorated room, excellent service from Ian and Jackie, and, when the mist lifted, a lovely view across the sea from the terrace.
We drove into Portree on Sunday morning and were warmly welcomed at the Church of Scotland. The minister who is Hungarian was away, in Hungary with his wife. In his absence one of the elders preached, very well, from Ephesians 3 on the height and the depth and the width of the love of God. My eyes filled with tears as we sang the closing hymn, Stuart Townend’s How deep the Father’s love for us.
Compared with the rest of the Hebrides Skye has an enormous number of visitors. They say that on Skye, quite a large island, you are never more than five miles from the sea. And never more than five yards from a Chinese or Japanese tourist. Many of whom congregate on the Trotternish peninsula, which includes two of Skye’s best-known landmarks, the Old Man of Storr, an isolated rock pinnacle, and the Quiraing, a dramatic collection of crags. We drove round the peninsula, stopping to see Flora MacDonald’s grave in Kilmuir Cemetery.
[The fashion designer Alexander McQueen is buried in the same cemetery.] W.H. Murray whose guide-book invariably comes with us on trips up north describes her memorial as a monstrosity. It is a great spot, but was ferociously windy. Afterwards, and after a restorative coffee, we looked unsuccessfully for the dinosaur footprints on the rocks at An Corran beach.
On our final morning we drove down to Sleat and made a sentimental return visit to Kinloch Lodge hotel at Isleornsay. Which is where we got engaged in 1974. We hadn’t then initially intended to stay there. After a night in a primitive caravan at Broadford we had thought to stay in a temperance hotel at Ord, with a palm tree outside, run by two old ladies from Lewis. But they were full, and recommended us to Kinloch Lodge, which had opened two years previously. Godfrey Macdonald, the 8th Lord Macdonald and 35th High Chief of his clan, and his wife Claire, a renowned cook and cookery writer, had set out to provide a hotel “with comfy beds, endless hot water, attentive service and delicious food”. The prices, I noticed, when it opened were £5.00 per person per night and 27/6d for a three course dinner ! What I remember best about our first visit was delicious food and getting stuck in the bar afterwards tasting a range of single malts, egged on by Ian the barman and an alcoholic dentist from Portree. Neither Susie nor I have drunk whisky since.
The hotel is in a white-washed building, a former shooting lodge, that dates from the mid-16th century, set on the shores of Loch na Dal We were warmly received by Isabella Macdonald, the daughter of Godfrey and Claire now retired, and were offered coffee and champagne on the house. Sadly I was driving. But we are tempted to explore the idea of a short-stay return visit for our Golden Wedding anniversary in January 2025. Isabella said that she would arrange a special price for us. But I guess it will be more than £5.00 each a night.
From Iselornsay we had time to take the [very] minor road over the hills to Toksavaig and Tarskavaig, which offers great views of the Black Cuillins.
And so to the ferry from Armadale back to Mallaig. I drove past Ben Nevis up the road through Glencoe in brilliant sunshine. But Susie was fast asleep. Probably too much champagne.
September 2023
Through a glass darkly 