From a secret hideaway deep in the Scottish highlands, out of the window, through the tall Scots Pines, a loch can be spied, the far shores dotted with remote farmhouses. Round to the north, craggy mountains pierce the cloud line. The sound of birdsong and running spring water the only disturbance to the peace and tranquility. Then we show up...
Week Two began in Edinburgh with Paul. We spent a day or so preparing for the impending road trip before catching an early morning train north to Inverness, where we met Kerrigan and our chaperone for the week: a converted VW Transporter van, hired from a company named 'Honk'. After some hilariously sarcastic horn-beeping from fellow road users, we departed for our initial destination: somewhere on Orkney.
Via the lottery of FM radio station surfing, we had the good fortune of book-ending the first days' driving with "Man in the Mirror" by Michael Jackson. We made sure to swing through John O'Groats en route (underwhelming) and found a number for a campsite on the crossing. The van interior was custom-made so could be switched between a table/bench combo and a queen-sized bed so, after christening the 2-ring cooker, the three of us christened the make-shift sleeping quarters, so to speak.
Flagrant tourism was first on the agenda, with mainland Orkney's various pre-historic and mediaeval settlements the subject of our excursions. Ancient tombs and peaceful sea-side communities abound the landscape, evidence of a far simpler way of life - live, eat, grow, cultivate, build, die - to that which the majority of we Brits experience today. Our second night on the island was spent parked in a sheltered cove out of sight of the rest of the world, with the gentle lapping of the tide our only concern. We continued with the tourism on our third day together before parking up on the brow of a hill to pass the time before the short crossing back to the mainland. We decided to make our way around the northern shores of Scotland, and stopped for dinner in Thurso before heading to a camper site for the night.
The beauty of having everything you need in the back of a van is the lack of constraints. As long as there is petrol in the tank (quite the caveat), the freedom of the open road is something to behold. We set our sights on the west coast. Kerrigan had been given a tip off about a remote beach far from the reach of most. The scenery on the way was breathtaking, easily rivaling some of the great geographical vistas I have had the pleasure of witnessing. Pinewood forests and vast lochs gave rise to rugged peaks, as the sea retreated away to the horizon on our right - there is certainly nothing else like it on this island.
We made it to the recommended spot but were put off by the car park feel and "No overnight parking" sign so, instead, plumped for our back-up plan. Kerrigan lives in Findhorn - a foundation comprising a spiritual community, ecovillage and an international centre for holistic education - through which she knows Em. Em owns some land near to Ullapool upon which she has built a croft. Em would be in Findhorn, the croft empty, so a quick phone call and we secured our base for the remainder of the trip. The croft is quite incredible; built back into the side of the hill, it has a cabin-style living area atop a woodshed. Outside there are two further rooms, one a bedroom/study and the other an outdoor kitchen, complete with fire pit just outside. The whole place is designed around eco-living, so the hill behind the cabin is given to the growing of produce, all water is drawn straight from the fast-running stream alongside and the toilet is fundamentally a treehouse with a hole in it.
Eating, drinking and card games aside, our final three days were centred around walking near Ullapool. We managed three altogether:
- Stac Pollaidh : a relatively short walk but offering incredible views from the top, once the clouds had blown over. In fact, by the time we reached the bottom, the sun was out in all its glory, so we took the opportunity to match it by cooling off in the loch. It didn't take long to cool off.
- Around the croft : another fairly short trek down the lane and through the forest around the croft, this time in the blazing sunshine. We foraged for things to put in our dinner and found ourselves covered in ticks. Quite hardy folk, ticks. A tick only needs to feed once in its first year, so climbs to the top of a blade of grass or the tip of a leaf, and waits for dinner to walk by. It then proceeds to bury its face in your leg/arm/torso/bottom and have its fill. Ticks carry Lyme's disease and, between the three of us, we must have 'obtained' over 50 of the blighters, so spent the evening grooming each other like our primate cousins.
- Beinn Eighe : a slightly more taxing hike, this one. Beinn Eighe is Britain's oldest National Nature Reserve and overlooks the impressive Loch Maree. We took on a route within the reserve which took us up to the 'Conservation Cairn' and afforded us great views across the loch.
The week was ended with a lovely meal at The Ceilidh Place, a really rather decent restaurant where, between us, we sampled mackerel, haggis, haddock and Ross-shire beef, all of it very local and all of it very tasty.
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Number two on The List: BBFC President
Quentin Thomas, I believe, is the current incumbent. The reason for this choice is simple. Firstly, I assume that films which make it to classification are likely to get a release on some scale. Second, there are only so many films released from week-to-week. Third, having lent his signature to the classification of every released film, Quentin must have seen them all. Ergo, he spends all his week being President of watching all the films.
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