| The Mobile Bank: only on Arran can this be a good idea. |
It had been a nonstop weekend up in Inverness, but I hadn't had enough of the Highlands. After four hours on the Megabus, I
met up with Katie in Glasgow and we settled in for an early night: tomorrow we'd be up early in the morning for a holiday on the
islands. I packed up my laptop and my Lord of the Rings DVDs and we were off to Scotland's Big Sky Country.
met up with Katie in Glasgow and we settled in for an early night: tomorrow we'd be up early in the morning for a holiday on the
islands. I packed up my laptop and my Lord of the Rings DVDs and we were off to Scotland's Big Sky Country.
In a rare moment of foresight, I had booked us a self-catering apartment instead of
hopping from B&B to B&B like we'd done in the Lake District. Our trip cut right through
Easter weekend though, so even though I planned it weeks in advance, the entire village
of Lochranza where I wanted to stay was quite literally booked. Instead we'd be in the
less exciting but still hot Lamlash, with views out to a big rock sticking out of the sea.
Arran, just 9 miles wide and 20 miles long, looks like it has towns all around it, but I swear
most of these can barely be called villages: they're like ten houses and a pub, or in the
case of Machrie, three houses and a shed. The cool thing about Arran is the way it really
is "Scotland in miniature" as it's so often called. Y'see, the north half of the island is all
mountains and no people; you might as well be up in the Cairngorms or anywhere else in
the Highlands. The south is flatter and has larger villages (read: fifteen houses and a bank
on wheels). Excluding tourists, the entire population numbers about 4500, or the amount
of people in a mall in Puerto Rico at any given time.
And yet even though it was Easter and I could hardly find a place to stay for five
consecutive nights, we never saw anything even approaching a crowd except at the pier
when the ferry came in. Arran somehow manages to keep a good balance between
quaint quietude and sightseeing action. Arran's got 2.5 castles (Kildonan's "castle" is
barely a wall), a brewery, a distillery, a perfumery, a chocolatier, and two creameries
(where they make delicious Arran cheeses), all of which you can walk in and around.
Plus, every pub serves Arran Ales, often on tap: reason enough to come visit. All of which
is not to mention Arran's real draw: the butt-slappingly sexy scenery. Even a blind man
with the shakes can take awesome pictures here. Also: sheep. There's always sheep.
hopping from B&B to B&B like we'd done in the Lake District. Our trip cut right through
Easter weekend though, so even though I planned it weeks in advance, the entire village
of Lochranza where I wanted to stay was quite literally booked. Instead we'd be in the
less exciting but still hot Lamlash, with views out to a big rock sticking out of the sea.
Arran, just 9 miles wide and 20 miles long, looks like it has towns all around it, but I swear
most of these can barely be called villages: they're like ten houses and a pub, or in the
case of Machrie, three houses and a shed. The cool thing about Arran is the way it really
is "Scotland in miniature" as it's so often called. Y'see, the north half of the island is all
mountains and no people; you might as well be up in the Cairngorms or anywhere else in
the Highlands. The south is flatter and has larger villages (read: fifteen houses and a bank
on wheels). Excluding tourists, the entire population numbers about 4500, or the amount
of people in a mall in Puerto Rico at any given time.
And yet even though it was Easter and I could hardly find a place to stay for five
consecutive nights, we never saw anything even approaching a crowd except at the pier
when the ferry came in. Arran somehow manages to keep a good balance between
quaint quietude and sightseeing action. Arran's got 2.5 castles (Kildonan's "castle" is
barely a wall), a brewery, a distillery, a perfumery, a chocolatier, and two creameries
(where they make delicious Arran cheeses), all of which you can walk in and around.
Plus, every pub serves Arran Ales, often on tap: reason enough to come visit. All of which
is not to mention Arran's real draw: the butt-slappingly sexy scenery. Even a blind man
with the shakes can take awesome pictures here. Also: sheep. There's always sheep.
Home base was Lamlash for five nights,
and Lochranza for one. Ideally, it woulda
been the other way 'round, but then
maybe I shoulda planned a year ahead.
and Lochranza for one. Ideally, it woulda
been the other way 'round, but then
maybe I shoulda planned a year ahead.
Butt-Slappingly Sexy
You can always count on Scotland for scary clouds.
Our HQ: the Marine House Hotel and Apartments.
Ours was the little block set back on the top right.
Our HQ: the Marine House Hotel and Apartments.
Ours was the little block set back on the top right.
The view out to Holy Isle from our window. Dig how
the peak always seems to have clouds sticking to it.
This happened even on cloudless days. Freaky.
the peak always seems to have clouds sticking to it.
This happened even on cloudless days. Freaky.
This old church is planned to
become luxury flats. See if I don't
come back just to stay there.
become luxury flats. See if I don't
come back just to stay there.
Our home base of Lamlash is only three miles down the road from the main settlement of Brodick,
where the ferry pulls in and where there is an actual bank instead of a truck. Lamlash has a few
tearooms, a Co-op grocery store (thank goodness for that, at least), a dinky ferry to Holy Isle, and two
pubs. Neither pub is anything special, but the Pierhead Tavern has a shaggy white dog that hangs
around with the clientele (you know you're on Arran if...). The only reason people come to Lamlash,
besides as a fall-back option in case the whole north of the Island is booked, is to stare at the giant
rock off the coast. Holy Isle, a 10-minute boat ride away, has been a center of worship since the
600's; back then it was just a hermit in a cave, today it's a Buddhist community. More on them later.
Our apartment was a snug little place with a tv, couch, washer, dryer, everything. Two things we
hadn't planned on, though: the "shower" was a ghetto plastic shower attachment; and electricity was
by stingy coin meter. Our first night we woke up quite freezing because we'd underestimated how
far a pound would go, and it sure didn't go all night. But y'know, other than having to kneel in the
tub to have a shower and the rationing of pound-coins for the meter, our place was freakin' sweet.
where the ferry pulls in and where there is an actual bank instead of a truck. Lamlash has a few
tearooms, a Co-op grocery store (thank goodness for that, at least), a dinky ferry to Holy Isle, and two
pubs. Neither pub is anything special, but the Pierhead Tavern has a shaggy white dog that hangs
around with the clientele (you know you're on Arran if...). The only reason people come to Lamlash,
besides as a fall-back option in case the whole north of the Island is booked, is to stare at the giant
rock off the coast. Holy Isle, a 10-minute boat ride away, has been a center of worship since the
600's; back then it was just a hermit in a cave, today it's a Buddhist community. More on them later.
Our apartment was a snug little place with a tv, couch, washer, dryer, everything. Two things we
hadn't planned on, though: the "shower" was a ghetto plastic shower attachment; and electricity was
by stingy coin meter. Our first night we woke up quite freezing because we'd underestimated how
far a pound would go, and it sure didn't go all night. But y'know, other than having to kneel in the
tub to have a shower and the rationing of pound-coins for the meter, our place was freakin' sweet.
The attachment that came
with our bath was so ghetto
it didn't even fit in the tub's
faucets. You can imagine the
fun it was to shower.
with our bath was so ghetto
it didn't even fit in the tub's
faucets. You can imagine the
fun it was to shower.
Scoping Out the Lowlands
The first day we spent in Brodick. In one fell swoop, we hit up the chocolatier, the perfumer, and one of the creamers, all of which
are really just tiny shops with windows where you awkwardly stare at the workers doing their jobs. Still, already we had gifts for
the folks at home, plus a nice block of cheddar infused with claret wine for us. So far, so sextacular.
are really just tiny shops with windows where you awkwardly stare at the workers doing their jobs. Still, already we had gifts for
the folks at home, plus a nice block of cheddar infused with claret wine for us. So far, so sextacular.
On pilgrimage at the Arran Brewery, which I must
admit was one of the main reasons for coming.
admit was one of the main reasons for coming.
Here's Brodick Castle,
which is nice, but I much
prefer busted to nice.
which is nice, but I much
prefer busted to nice.
Free tombstone with every stove.
But then there's the real reason to come to Brodick: the Arran Brewery. The tour is not much more involved than the window in
the shops: you walk down a corridor which occasionally opens up to some part of the brewing process, and posters on the wall
explain what all the vats and tubes are for. But then! You go back to the gift shop and there's free samples of the four
fresh-out-the-brewery ales waiting for you. While you sip some of Scotland's best stuff, you can also poke your nose into jars of
hops and barley, which really tells you more about the beer than vats and tubes do. We were the only ones there that day, so we
chatted with the brewer dude for about 45 minutes about beer, life on Arran, and oddly, Miami, Florida.
The rest of the day we spent ambling about the lush castle grounds and the hills behind Lamlash. That night we had dinner with
a few fresh Arran ales, and began watching The Fellowship of the Ring.
the shops: you walk down a corridor which occasionally opens up to some part of the brewing process, and posters on the wall
explain what all the vats and tubes are for. But then! You go back to the gift shop and there's free samples of the four
fresh-out-the-brewery ales waiting for you. While you sip some of Scotland's best stuff, you can also poke your nose into jars of
hops and barley, which really tells you more about the beer than vats and tubes do. We were the only ones there that day, so we
chatted with the brewer dude for about 45 minutes about beer, life on Arran, and oddly, Miami, Florida.
The rest of the day we spent ambling about the lush castle grounds and the hills behind Lamlash. That night we had dinner with
a few fresh Arran ales, and began watching The Fellowship of the Ring.
Holy Feral Goats
Looking back towards Arran from the top of Mullach Mor, the official name of the mountain
on Holy Isle. Click on the picture to get a labeled version, or here for a blank version.
on Holy Isle. Click on the picture to get a labeled version, or here for a blank version.
The next day was sunny in a way Scotland usually isn't, so we took
advantage and caught the tiny boat to Holy Isle, where we were greeted
by a couple of Buddhists in big woolly ponchos. They very kindly didn't
preach to us (as I'm sure would have happened at a Christian
community); they just pointed the way up the mountain and so up we
went. The climb up was as easy as you could want, except for that
vertical scramble up bare rock near the summit. Still, we made it in less
than an hour and the view back towards Arran, with the Isle of Bute just
discernible off in the distance, was all sorts of worth it.
The way down was significantly more difficult than the climb up. For
starters, there was no path, mainly because the other face of the
mountain consisted of very steep jagged rocks. When we finally made
it down to the heather again we were somewhat pleased to see another
couple of hikers behind us starting the slow climb down; for a while
there I had a nagging suspicion there was an easy way and I'd
unwittingly taken us down the rock-climbing way. Nope.
advantage and caught the tiny boat to Holy Isle, where we were greeted
by a couple of Buddhists in big woolly ponchos. They very kindly didn't
preach to us (as I'm sure would have happened at a Christian
community); they just pointed the way up the mountain and so up we
went. The climb up was as easy as you could want, except for that
vertical scramble up bare rock near the summit. Still, we made it in less
than an hour and the view back towards Arran, with the Isle of Bute just
discernible off in the distance, was all sorts of worth it.
The way down was significantly more difficult than the climb up. For
starters, there was no path, mainly because the other face of the
mountain consisted of very steep jagged rocks. When we finally made
it down to the heather again we were somewhat pleased to see another
couple of hikers behind us starting the slow climb down; for a while
there I had a nagging suspicion there was an easy way and I'd
unwittingly taken us down the rock-climbing way. Nope.
Katie stopping to smile
uneasily during the steep
climb down.
uneasily during the steep
climb down.
Buddhist rock paintings in wild
colors line the coast, in stark
contrast with the drab heather.
colors line the coast, in stark
contrast with the drab heather.
The Buddhist Center: woolly ponchos a must.
Crazy wildlife: a feral goat stares askance at us.
Tee-hee: potbellied Eriskay ponies can't
help but be hilarious.
help but be hilarious.
The cool part about the way down was the wildlife. Holy Isle is known for its indigenous animals: Soay
sheep, Eriskay ponies, and the more intimidatingly-named feral goats. The sheep look like goats, the goats
have crazy long horns, and the ponies have big fat beer bellies. Even the animals are more fun on Arran.
Back at the pier the ferry pulled in bearing crates of vegetables, toilet paper, and Kellogg's Corn Flakes for
the Buddhists. Man, it must suck when you need to just want like some Doritos and a coke.
That night, I noticed the Co-op was peddling a priced-to-clear leftover Christmas beer called Rosey Nosey for
mad cheap. Hell yeah, I drank it. Opportunity knocks but once.
sheep, Eriskay ponies, and the more intimidatingly-named feral goats. The sheep look like goats, the goats
have crazy long horns, and the ponies have big fat beer bellies. Even the animals are more fun on Arran.
Back at the pier the ferry pulled in bearing crates of vegetables, toilet paper, and Kellogg's Corn Flakes for
the Buddhists. Man, it must suck when you need to just want like some Doritos and a coke.
That night, I noticed the Co-op was peddling a priced-to-clear leftover Christmas beer called Rosey Nosey for
mad cheap. Hell yeah, I drank it. Opportunity knocks but once.
Apparently this is a baby Soay sheep. I
thought it was just a dirty goat.
thought it was just a dirty goat.
Back to the Highlands
The next day we spent crying inside as we saw how much more awesome the northern half of the island is than what we had seen
so far. The bus ride along the coast from Brodick is a series of villages that just get prettier and prettier as you go north, and then
for twenty minutes there's nothing but uninhabitable mountains before you hit the kick-assingest village of them all: Lochranza.
so far. The bus ride along the coast from Brodick is a series of villages that just get prettier and prettier as you go north, and then
for twenty minutes there's nothing but uninhabitable mountains before you hit the kick-assingest village of them all: Lochranza.
The impossibly gorgeous village of Lochranza,
much like the impossibly pretty village of Corrie
nearby. They might as well just blow up the
south half of the island, really.
much like the impossibly pretty village of Corrie
nearby. They might as well just blow up the
south half of the island, really.
Lochranza Castle, standing on a tiny peninsula
jutting out into the loch, probably gets flooded
pretty often. The Mull of Kintyre, part of the
mainland, is just visible in the background.
jutting out into the loch, probably gets flooded
pretty often. The Mull of Kintyre, part of the
mainland, is just visible in the background.
Good for pictures but pretty lousy for surfing:
the northern edge of town as it meets the sea,
with sexy rocks in the foreground.
the northern edge of town as it meets the sea,
with sexy rocks in the foreground.
Lochranza doesn't even have a grocery store, but it does have a great little pub at the Lochranza Hotel, plus a busted castle
sticking out into the water and the Arran Distillery to boot. Also: loads of gorse, that yellow flower (see above) that grows wild all
over the Highlands in the spring and makes all your pictures that much better. (Weird trivia about gorse: it actually smells like
coconut, so in places where there's lots of it, the air is filled with the scent of suntan lotion...wild.) Highland beauty, busted castle,
distillery, good pub, big mountains; if there had only been a busted church in Lochranza, I would have had an aneurysm.
sticking out into the water and the Arran Distillery to boot. Also: loads of gorse, that yellow flower (see above) that grows wild all
over the Highlands in the spring and makes all your pictures that much better. (Weird trivia about gorse: it actually smells like
coconut, so in places where there's lots of it, the air is filled with the scent of suntan lotion...wild.) Highland beauty, busted castle,
distillery, good pub, big mountains; if there had only been a busted church in Lochranza, I would have had an aneurysm.
Walking to Glen Catacol and the mountain
climb du jour.
climb du jour.
This is Glen Catacol. Just makes you wanna
jump around and yell profanities, it's so hot.
jump around and yell profanities, it's so hot.
Katie and I: foiled by the mountain, but clearly
happy to be done climbing for the day.
happy to be done climbing for the day.
After I flipped out at the castle for a bit, we walked down the road for two miles to reach the next village, Catacol, which also has
its own hotel and what the Rough Guide calls the best pub on the island (and who am I to disagree?). It also has a satisfyingly
stunning location overlooking the Firth of Clyde and the Mull of Kintyre in the distance, and forms a convenient starting point for
a number of mountain climbs via Glen Catacol. Our plan was a sweet walk that would take us inland through the Glen, up a
mountain called Méall Mor, and finally down the other side right into Lochranza. It was all very sexy on paper, but the directions
in our book of walks were rubbish, so we ended up going the wrong way for a while and having to scamper through some bog to
get back on the trail. Once we got on the path and started to climb, we were already tired out and, even worse, lunchless due to
the fact that there's no stores in Lochranza or Catacol in which to pick up a damn sandwich. We reached a roaring waterfall
halfway up, then said screw it. We sat in the sun and the springy heather with a view all the way out over the water to the
mainland and not another person in sight. Good enough.
Besides, this way we got to hit up Catacol's pub, and whaddaya know, it really did kick ass. We had rejuvenating burgers and
hand-pulled cask ales out on a picnic table in the sun, satisfied that we'd made the right choice in stopping where we did.
its own hotel and what the Rough Guide calls the best pub on the island (and who am I to disagree?). It also has a satisfyingly
stunning location overlooking the Firth of Clyde and the Mull of Kintyre in the distance, and forms a convenient starting point for
a number of mountain climbs via Glen Catacol. Our plan was a sweet walk that would take us inland through the Glen, up a
mountain called Méall Mor, and finally down the other side right into Lochranza. It was all very sexy on paper, but the directions
in our book of walks were rubbish, so we ended up going the wrong way for a while and having to scamper through some bog to
get back on the trail. Once we got on the path and started to climb, we were already tired out and, even worse, lunchless due to
the fact that there's no stores in Lochranza or Catacol in which to pick up a damn sandwich. We reached a roaring waterfall
halfway up, then said screw it. We sat in the sun and the springy heather with a view all the way out over the water to the
mainland and not another person in sight. Good enough.
Besides, this way we got to hit up Catacol's pub, and whaddaya know, it really did kick ass. We had rejuvenating burgers and
hand-pulled cask ales out on a picnic table in the sun, satisfied that we'd made the right choice in stopping where we did.
The waterfall where we
decided to call it quits.
decided to call it quits.
The view from Kildonan: at left, an old lighthouse on the flat-topped Plodda
Island; at right, off in the distance, the surreal Ailsa Craig sticking out of the sea.
Island; at right, off in the distance, the surreal Ailsa Craig sticking out of the sea.
That night we followed a tip we got from the Arran brewer dude and caught a bus down to Kildonan for dinner at the famous
Breadalbane Hotel. It was worth it just for the view off the south coast of Arran, but the food was a substantial step up from the
usual pub grub. The highlight was the starter though, check this out: peach halves heated up, filled with cream cheese, and with
Arran cheddar melted on top. Spanktastic. Then we went back home and started watching The Two Towers. Best vacation ever.
Breadalbane Hotel. It was worth it just for the view off the south coast of Arran, but the food was a substantial step up from the
usual pub grub. The highlight was the starter though, check this out: peach halves heated up, filled with cream cheese, and with
Arran cheddar melted on top. Spanktastic. Then we went back home and started watching The Two Towers. Best vacation ever.
Daylight Savings, Standing Stones, and One Big-Ass Cave
Easter Sunday messed us up. Not only was it the day the
buses changed to their summer schedule, it was also the
day the clocks went forward in Britain. Long story short,
we missed the bus to Machrie and couldn't figure out
why, so we called a cabbie named Tony. When Tony
finally arrived, he mentioned Daylight Savings Time, and
in a forehead-slapping d'oh! moment, we realized we'd
woken up an hour late. Tony was not amused. In fact,
he was only too glad to drive these silly Americans to
other side of the island and take our cash.
Plus, it was suddenly winter again: after two days of sun,
the Scottish weather-gods woke up and said "ach," and
the temperature dropped ten degrees Celsius overnight.
buses changed to their summer schedule, it was also the
day the clocks went forward in Britain. Long story short,
we missed the bus to Machrie and couldn't figure out
why, so we called a cabbie named Tony. When Tony
finally arrived, he mentioned Daylight Savings Time, and
in a forehead-slapping d'oh! moment, we realized we'd
woken up an hour late. Tony was not amused. In fact,
he was only too glad to drive these silly Americans to
other side of the island and take our cash.
Plus, it was suddenly winter again: after two days of sun,
the Scottish weather-gods woke up and said "ach," and
the temperature dropped ten degrees Celsius overnight.
Walking around in the holiest landscape on Arran:
Machrie Moor, a big, desolate bog-meadow, holds
no less than six stone circles like this one, plus cairns,
standing stones, and other prehistoric stuff we don't
understand but enjoy taking pictures of.
Machrie Moor, a big, desolate bog-meadow, holds
no less than six stone circles like this one, plus cairns,
standing stones, and other prehistoric stuff we don't
understand but enjoy taking pictures of.
The Machrie Standing Stones,
with Katie for perspective.
The clouds were only getting
scarier, so we chose to skip
town instead of explore.
with Katie for perspective.
The clouds were only getting
scarier, so we chose to skip
town instead of explore.
It was simply too cold and the wind was
too bitey to be out in the exposed moor
for very long. We saw a couple of stone
circles and whatnot, then caught the first
bus to the unfortunately-named town of
Blackwaterfoot for lunch. It was only
midday, but the Blackwaterfoot Hotel
was already packed with punters
drinking lager and throwing darts. Not
like I was on my way to church or
anything, but noon on Sunday just ain't
beer time as far as I'm concerned. Then
again, this is still Scotland, where they
start drinking on the train to work.
too bitey to be out in the exposed moor
for very long. We saw a couple of stone
circles and whatnot, then caught the first
bus to the unfortunately-named town of
Blackwaterfoot for lunch. It was only
midday, but the Blackwaterfoot Hotel
was already packed with punters
drinking lager and throwing darts. Not
like I was on my way to church or
anything, but noon on Sunday just ain't
beer time as far as I'm concerned. Then
again, this is still Scotland, where they
start drinking on the train to work.
King's Cave: it's pretty big.
This was cool: on the path to the cave,
tourists have over the years made tiny little
towers of stone, like a wee Hindu temple.
tourists have over the years made tiny little
towers of stone, like a wee Hindu temple.
Anyhow, a mile and a half down the coast from the relatively bustling Blackwaterfoot is the massive King's Cave, where they say
Robert the Bruce went into hiding after he knifed the real heir to the throne. As he sat there, the legend goes, he was so bored he
watched a spider try and fail to spin a web. After seven tries, the spider finally got it right, at which point Robert was allegedly so
inspired he went back to the mainland and killed a bunch of English people. Scotland has the coolest history, too.
That night was our last in Lamlash, so we had to eat whatever we had left in the cupboard: dinner was an imaginative mix of
nachos, soup, and a frozen chicken pot pie. We didn't want to put a whole extra pound in the coin meter, so that night we
turned off all the heat, saving up just enough electricity to cook and shower the next morning. We're such students.
Robert the Bruce went into hiding after he knifed the real heir to the throne. As he sat there, the legend goes, he was so bored he
watched a spider try and fail to spin a web. After seven tries, the spider finally got it right, at which point Robert was allegedly so
inspired he went back to the mainland and killed a bunch of English people. Scotland has the coolest history, too.
That night was our last in Lamlash, so we had to eat whatever we had left in the cupboard: dinner was an imaginative mix of
nachos, soup, and a frozen chicken pot pie. We didn't want to put a whole extra pound in the coin meter, so that night we
turned off all the heat, saving up just enough electricity to cook and shower the next morning. We're such students.
Back to Lochranza
I wasn't about to leave Arran without spending at least one night in Lochranza. Fortunately enough, out plan to go to the Isle of
Islay from Arran meant that we had to catch an early morning ferry from Lochranza, so we had to stay there anyway. Sweet.
Islay from Arran meant that we had to catch an early morning ferry from Lochranza, so we had to stay there anyway. Sweet.
The view from our window:
drippy, but awesome anyway
drippy, but awesome anyway
The Arran Distillery, one of Scotland's youngest. The
video part of the tour is always lame, but this one
was so especially cheesy I totally lost it and started
laughing. It's a miracle they didn't kick me out.
video part of the tour is always lame, but this one
was so especially cheesy I totally lost it and started
laughing. It's a miracle they didn't kick me out.
And there's a red deer. Some batty old lady regularly
drives up and feeds him while trying in vain to shoo
away the seagulls. Only on Arran.
drives up and feeds him while trying in vain to shoo
away the seagulls. Only on Arran.
Lucky for us, we chose the only rainy day of the week to go to Lochranza. We dropped our bags at the pretty Croft Bank B&B,
and by the time we walked to the Arran Distillery down the road, our jeans were soaked through. (We wanted to soak up Arran
on our last day, but this was ridiculous! Err.) In any case, we had lunch at the restaurant, where the diminutive Italian waiter, who
spoke to me in Spanish, kept urging us to have some steak and red wine; we had bread and cheese with coffee. Students.
By the time the tour ended, it had stopped raining. I couldn't stay mad at Lochranza for very long; it can't help but be lovely,
especially after a heavy rain when waterfalls course down the mountains, spill out over the road, and empty into the loch. We
walked all over town for the rest of the day, taking it all in. That night we ate at the Lochranza Hotel's pub (steak pie for me,
dodgy vegetarian fare for Katie), and started the Return of the King.
In the morning our lady eagerly kicked us out of the house so she could do her shopping. Here's a tip if your hostess kicks you
out of your room and you have to sit outside for 45 minutes waiting for the ferry in Lochranza: the phone booth is windproof.
This was just the beginning of a long slough out to the Isle of Islay. But what would any trip in rural Scotland be without some
needlessly unpleasant experience involving public transport, or more to the point, the lack of it? What fun we have.
and by the time we walked to the Arran Distillery down the road, our jeans were soaked through. (We wanted to soak up Arran
on our last day, but this was ridiculous! Err.) In any case, we had lunch at the restaurant, where the diminutive Italian waiter, who
spoke to me in Spanish, kept urging us to have some steak and red wine; we had bread and cheese with coffee. Students.
By the time the tour ended, it had stopped raining. I couldn't stay mad at Lochranza for very long; it can't help but be lovely,
especially after a heavy rain when waterfalls course down the mountains, spill out over the road, and empty into the loch. We
walked all over town for the rest of the day, taking it all in. That night we ate at the Lochranza Hotel's pub (steak pie for me,
dodgy vegetarian fare for Katie), and started the Return of the King.
In the morning our lady eagerly kicked us out of the house so she could do her shopping. Here's a tip if your hostess kicks you
out of your room and you have to sit outside for 45 minutes waiting for the ferry in Lochranza: the phone booth is windproof.
This was just the beginning of a long slough out to the Isle of Islay. But what would any trip in rural Scotland be without some
needlessly unpleasant experience involving public transport, or more to the point, the lack of it? What fun we have.
Here's the itinerary for my time in the Isles. Notice how easy it is to
get to Arran and how crappy it is to get back from Islay.
get to Arran and how crappy it is to get back from Islay.
On to:
Back to:
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