4 July 2010 (at breakfast)
As the rain thuds persistently on the roof of the conservatory attached to our holiday cottage I can gaze out over the sea loch outside the window and appreciate once more the joys of the Scottish summer.

Not Kansas
The trip up yesterday was leisurely and, for the most part, sunny and warm. Like the best road movies there was a moment, hard to pin-point, when you realise that you aren’t in Kansas anymore but have passed through a portal to somewhere else. It might have been when the red kites were circling the car as we crossed the Kessock Bridge to the Black Isle; more likely it was when, north of Ullapool, the massif of Stac Pollaidh squatted on the landscape under threatening skies.
The cottage in which we are staying is a converted croft and my main reaction to being here is, I confess, “want, want, want”. It is the perfect bolt-hole and ideally sized and equipped as a rural retreat. This is something about which I have recurrent fantasies which I will mention again later.
But first things first: I had been told of an excellent pie shop in Lochinver and so it came to pass. We had our supper there last night. It wasn’t all pies on the menu but a venison and cranberry pie washed down with a glass of the house Merlot was a treat (especially as I am not a particular fan of Merlot: give me a new world Pinot Noir anyday). We didn’t wander around much afterwards but came back here to the cottage.

Suilven
Kirstin and I wandered along the road a little and were rewarded with a fine view of the mighty Suilven as the sun sank behind us. It was a relaxing evening, reading in the warm conservatory by the ambient light – it was still light enough to read until around 23.00.
I’m not sure what, if anything, is planned for today. We’ll probably just drop down into Lochinver for a while and see where the day takes us. We can, of course, do exactly as we please: we are on holiday.
(later)
We had our share of weather today, particularly this evening. After a rainy morning we took advantage of brighter weather after lunch to venture south from Lochinver over an un-numbered single track road which took us up and over the moors to Coigach and round to Achiltibuie.
The views of the principal hills (Suilven, Cul More, Stac Pollaidh and Cul Beag) in the shifting light were fabulous and we stopped several times for photos and to enjoy the fresh, clean air.

Stac Pollaidh
We made our way back to the house just before the current weather set in and a front rolled in from the North Atlantic. As I write, at 21.30, it seems to have passed over save for the occasional gust although it is still choppy out in the bay. The only sounds are the wind in the trees and the crashing of the sea on the rocks.
I washed down tea tonight with a beer I hadn’t seen before from the always reliable Williams Brothers of Alloa. Kelpie seaweed ale (4.4% by volume) uses bladder wrack in the mash to produce a dark ale, not quite a stout, which slips down very easily.

Achiltibuie traffic jam
I mentioned earlier that I had recurrent fantasies about housing; there are three to which I return repeatedly. The first is to find an apartment on or near Rue Mouffetard in Paris. This would be very easily accessible from Edinburgh (cheap flight to Paris CDG, Roissybus to Opera and Metro to Place Monge)
The other two both involve coastal properties in Scotland; one variant is a traditional stone built house, renovated: the second is a self-build using a Scandinavian log home kit built to have a “rambling” feel. In each case some degree of semi-isolation would be involved (but not complete). I could work either of these up into a more developed picture but I won’t bore you. Suffice it to say that I don’t have the money to do any of them.
Having said that, we do plan to have some work done in our back garden shortly – removing an old patio and replacing it with decking with a pergola above. This is part one of a number of things which need doing about the place; the second is the front of the house which requires what is there to be substantially replaced for structural reasons; the third is the far end of the back garden. With regard to the latter I am firmly contemplating a Man-Shed, insulated and solar paneled to provide power for essentials in a man’s life such as a kettle to make tea to drink when he is sitting in his shed pondering the mysteries of existence. If I can’t have a highland bolt-hole at least I can have a shed.
Meanwhile: there was an entertaining short piece in yesterday’s Guardian by Oliver Burkeman. The piece questioned the received wisdom of “innovation” as the route to success, noting -correctly- that many of the world’s most successful businesses have based their success on copying other people’s innovations, usually learning from the original innovator’s mistakes and teething problems to produce a better product or service. I agree, although he forgets mentioned the other modern trick of buying out the innovator.
I have written about this before somewhere with particular reference to ICT where we have also seen innovation criminalised at the insistence of the existing monopolists pending such time as they can, in their eyes, “legitimise” the use of the technology and retain their threatened income streams and monopoly positions.
5th July (breakfast)

blogging the old fashioned way
It is around eight in the morning and I’m the only one up. I’m enjoying a pot of Earl Grey tea as I look out over the bay, Until moments ago the only sounds were the breeze in the trees and the susurrations of the sea interrupted by the occasional call from the cockerel in a nearby garden. Just as I picked up my pen, though, the rain started rattling off the conservatory roof.
I don’t know what the weather forecast is: there is a decent television through in the lounge but I’m not inclined to switch it on though neither do I feel inclined to wrap up and wander down to the shop for a newspaper.
There is a cliche lurking here I know, but part of my liking for places like this is precisely that I am able to detach myself from the daily clockwork of city living and working. It is for the same reason that for many years now I have not regularly worn a watch (although there is a clock on my mobile phone). One of my requirements for my fantasy bolt-hole would be no television – although I’d also want decent broadband!
(evening)

Clachtoll beach
We had a pleasant day today despite the weather. Our original intent was to go part way round the Drumbeg road (B869) to Clachtoll to see if we could find some pony trekking for Amy (Lindsay stayed at the cottage). There were no ponies but there was a fine beach (OS Landranger 15; NC040272) with the North Atlantic crashing up against it and a pleasant spell of weather so we stayed a while and enjoyed being windswept.
We carried on round the road and stopped at Drumbeg for lunch where a friendly robin made our acquaintance. The remainder of the road was really weird and seemed to bear no resemblance to the map. In Celtic and European folklore there are tales of fairy hills where time runs strangely and the unwary may fall asleep for five minutes only to wake up years later. Just as fairy hills distort time, so this road distorted space. I concluded that the road decides for itself each day how long it is going to be and occasionally, just for fun, decides to be three or four miles longer than usual.

The licking machine of Kylescu
We made a brief stop at Kylesku where I was savagely licked by Cole (Coal?) the old english sheepdog puppy before we drove south to the mighty metropolis of Ullapool. We went there partly for something to do and partly because there were two or three things that I was looking to buy. I only got one of them – some spray on waterproofing for my jacket.
Beer with tea tonight was a very pleasant Three Sisters Scottish Ale from the Atlas Brewery – a fine version of a traditional Scottish 80/- ale.
Wildlife has been fairly routine for these parts – gannet and common terns at Clachtoll as well as a Great Skua and a very probably Golden Eagle (I’m hedging my bets because of the weather conditions). Also, though not wildlife related, there was an interesting interview with Clay Shirky by Decca Aitkenhead in today’s Guardian.
Meanwhile, I have been planning my ManShed in more detail!
6th July (breakfast)
I woke up to find an improvement in the weather – heavy drizzle rather than heavy rain! Please don’t think that my enjoyment of the holiday is being too seriously dampened by the rain: sure I’d prefer some warm sunshine but from the perspective of being away from the usual routine and out of the normal hurly-burly I am quite content.

Thar be pirates cap'n...
I’m not sure what we might do today though. There is a lot to be said for retreating into one’s own world and reading. I have just been chatting to the owner of the cottage and commented that judging by the amount of construction going on the area seemed to be repopulating. He demurred – a lot of the new builds are holiday homes or older couples moving here either to retire or to run businesses of some description; the high numbers of non-local accents around would seem to bear that out. Not too many youngsters are staying once they get the chance to leave and there is, he said, a disproportionate representation by locals serving in the armed forces.
We talked too about work. He is a joiner and seems to have plenty to do. From the point of view of my work, I could do a lot here if I had a reasonably high capacity broadband connection. A colleague from one agency has done just that and lives slightly further south from here in Wester Ross. Particularly if some of my current thinking were ever to come to anything, a decent broadband connection plus a good transport link to Edinburgh would be quite sufficient. If one’s work isn’t tied to a particular place and can predominantly be done from home, then your home can be wherever you fancy laying your hat.
More to the point, given the enforced austerity and potential collapse with which the UK government is seemingly flirting, transplanting to somewhere where one simply enjoys being for other reasons has an increased appeal.
(evening)

Lindsay
A nice day today: the weather behaved itself until we got home and we visited a couple of beaches which did not require the wearing of full protective gear to enjoy.
We travelled north through a landscape which starts off rugged and becomes a moonscape. This is one of the few places in the UK where the primary road north (the A894) is single track with passing places. As you get further north the landscape is harsher and the peat sits uneasily as a thin epidermis on the ancient underlying rock. Up by Rhiconich any crofts which haven’t been whitewashed fade into the landscape as though they too were gneiss outcrops.
At Rhiconich we turned left towards Kinlochbervie and then right to Oldshoremore and the fantastic beach there (NC200585, Landranger 9). The beach was pretty much deserted except for a few intrepid souls ; it is always a pleasure to arrive somewhere and have a Great Skua as your principal companion. Gannets were out fishing too as were Roseatte terns. We went on up to Durness for a spot of lunch and then a couple of miles further round to a wonderful beach which, according to the OS map, is called Traigh na ‘h-Uamhag but the tourist signs suggested was known as Traigh Allt Chailgeag (Landranger 9 NC443655).

Dressed for a Scottish summer
We’ve been here many times before and, pleasingly, it remains unspoiled and undeveloped. Lindsay and I even went in paddling and it wasn’t long before my legs were numb enough not to feel the cold.
We made our way back down to Lochinver where Amy had chosen to stay and was making tea for us – which I washed down with a bottle of Northern Light (4%) from the Orkney Brewery (to which I won’t link as their website asks impertinent questions before letting you in – which is stupidity). Happily the next weather front did not decide to roll in off the Atlantic until we were snug indoors.
7th July (breakfast)
I woke up this morning to blue skies and bright sunshine over the bay but also a stiff wind blowing in. In the time it has taken me to brew up a pot of tea and sort out my breakfast the blue skies have been replaced by high level cloud cover scudding in from the Minch – and then back to blue again.

Lochinver harbour
Despite my obsessing here with the weather (perhaps I’m turning Canadian) I am enjoying this. I’d rather be in a personal relationship with the weather up here where the air is clean and fresh than cooped up in the city. Incidentally, for Canadian readers, of whom I have at least two, Lochinver sits at 58.15 degrees north which puts it around the same latitude as Hudson Bay I think
And it does make you admire the fortitude of the hardy souls who still croft the land or make a push for self-sufficiency up here. Notwithstanding the benificence of the Gulfstream which feeds warm currents to these parts, it would obviously be easier were this to be a shortbread tin Scotland where the winters are always mild and the rains soft.
Anyway, while everyone else is asleep, I’m going for a walk to Lochinver.
(evening)
The weather held for most of the day, bright but windy. As I write (around 19.30) it is starting to get stormy although it remains dry.
The walk down to Lochinver and back this morning was an enjoyable relaxation. I took my camera for a walk and basically wandered around enjoying the moment. I bought a Guardian in the paper shop on the way back (the last paper to reach here each day apparently) and after a canter through the latest moral outrages and non-events and a zippy wee assault on the daily Sudoku puzzle I was ready to face the world again.

One woman and her dog
We went up to the bookshop at Kirkaig and then Kirstin, Amy and I were taken for a walk to the falls of Kirkaig. This was a really enjoyable walk through woodland and then open moor. Our guide for the afternoon was Megan, the dog at the tearoom who fancied some walkies. It was great to get the boots out and be amongst the hils again for a couple of hours. The walk back was enliened by a flock of long-tailed tits, a stonechat and some huge dragonflies.
Afterwards we went along to Achmelvich beach which was extremely windy with reasonable breakers coming in – enough to keep the body-boarders happy. They of course had the benefit of wetsuits while Lindsay, Amy and I had lumps of ice for feet as we paddled.
Supper was a tasty venison burger washed down with an equally tasty Red MacGregor Ale (4.0%) from the previously mentioned Orkney Brewery. At the bookshop at Inverkaig I bought “The Golden Bird: Two Orkney Stories” by the late George Mackay Brown. I am always wary about buying Mackay Brown because more than once I have got a book home to find that I already have it! I’m fairly sure, though, that these stories are new to me. Of all Scottish writers of modern times (in English at least), George Mackay Brown is the one whose work I think will endure, like the megaliths on his beloved Orkney.
8 July (breakfast)
There is an early morning routine which I have established in my short time here. While everyone else dreams on I come downstairs to the conservatory, take my BP meds and enjoy breakfast and particularly work my way through a pot of tea – half and half Breakfast and Earl Grey. I can write up this journal, check for overnight emails on my phone and generally try and kick off the day gently.
I enjoy the element of being the only one awake and active as I can do exactly what I want without the need for conversation – especially when all I want to do is sip my tea and listen to the sounds of the waves and the breeze.
The notion of allowing oneself to relax and “be one with nature”, to use a cliche, is hardly novel of course. It features stongly in the contemplative strands of many religions and is often described in spiritual or mystical terms. This presents an interesting conundrum for the non-adherent: what language do you use to articulate the experience without borrowing from religion or presenting oneself in a manner which might be construed as being some species of “New-Ager”?
I don’t find pleasure in this contemplative experience solely from sitting still and listening to the wind: I find it when walking in wilderness, for example, or by a wild sea or, when it is going well, when running.
There is a reverse difficulty too which is slipping into terms which are too analytical and which thereby defeat the purpose. I am reminded of a brief conversation from my New College days:
“Ian, would you be interested in a new group looking at spirituality”?
“How do you define ‘Spirituality’”?
“We’ll take that as a ‘no’ then…..”
I am also reminded of a recent article in New Scientist about cultures where the number system consists of “one, two, three, four, many” and the cognitive differences with cultures such as ours with detailed number systems and complex mathematics. The link that I’m grasping for here is that between language culture and expectation/perspective.
We are not used to discussing contemplative experiences outside of religious or pseudo-religious contexts and when we try we pull against language, culture and expectation. And yet, I feel, the underlying experience is a common human experience so perhaps the language is not there because of the weight of culture and expectation pushing against it. We find the notion of secular contemplation odd except where it is expressed through art and metaphor.
(evening)
Another day in which the weather was largely good save for some occasional showers and a stiff wind.
Amy chose to stay in bed and read today so Kirstin, Lindsay and I took ourselves southwards to see if the salmon were jumping at the Falls of Shin. They were, but in very small numbers. The falls are immediately adjacent to a visitors’ centre run by Mohammed al-Fayed who is a major landowner in these parts. We popped in briefly to use the bathrooms and were taken aback to be greeted at the door by a Madam Tusaud’s figure of Mr al-Fayed as kilted landowner.
The centre was busy and no doubt generates employment for a number of locals which is a good thing; but the waxwork tells its own tale of rampant self-regard I think.

Loch Stack with Arkle beyond
We also popped into Lairg where we bought sandwiches before heading Westwards along Loch Shin towards Laxford Bridge. This is a nice road which suddenly becomes spectacular as it drops down to Loch Stack with its views of Arkle on the other side. We stopped for a while and got generally windswept while taking in the remote beauty of the place. Many years ago Loch Stack was the place I first spotted a black-throated diver (a species of Loon for Canadian readers).
We were home in time to feed breadcrumbs to the local chickens and to have a relaxed supper – washed down with a bottle of the Cairngorm Brewery’s “Sheepshagger Ale” – 4.5%. A decent beer with a silly name.
An odd thing happened today. Many years ago I started to write a fantasy novel which I abandoned on the basis that it was utter crap. Today as we were driving along I was struck with ideas for a series of short stories (or perhaps an episodic novel) which interested me. I have no particular regard for myself as a writer but I might try and work some of these notions up and see what happens.
9th July

Amy in the rain
And finally! I am sitting outside writing this in sunshine under blue skies – just 16 hours before we have to go home.
Mind you, up until an hour ago the weather was vile, which was unfortunate as Kirstin, Amy and I were out on a boat trip up the loch from Kylesku and watching seals.
It didn’t start out that way; we woke up to flat skies with no wind. There was a little drizzle when we left but as we were waiting for the boat the rain got heavier and once we were on teh water it was miserable although, perversely, I enjoyed the trip. But I was pleased to retreat to a fine and hot fish pie and pot of Earl Grey in the bar of the Kylesku Hotel once we came ashore.
We came home earlier than planned and took the opportunity to sort out our packing ready for an early start tomorrow. When the rain finally stopped we noticed that the local chickens were back and they were happy to peck at crumbed up remains of bread. I was entertained to see one of them very firmly see off a predating gull looking to score some crumbs.
The photos I’ve put here are a small selection of the many that I took and I’ve tweaked them in Paintshop because of the size reduction here. Once I’ve finished sorting through them I’ll put a pile more in the gallery.
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