Arran
AKA Claudette Memorial Trip. But it would be both arrogant and maudlin to title the thread that way.
I leave here tomorrow, mid-morning to go to Luton (approx 1.5 hour bus journey) for my appointment with a liver consultant. From there I need to get a bus to the airport, as there is a regular servoce that runs into London from there. Buses are subject to more delays than trains, but they are a heck of a lot cheaper.
The Luton-London bus takes me straight into Victoria, where I am booked onto the overnight coach to Glasgow.
By my reckoning I should be ridiculously early (I have been every time!) so I might bail out to the nearby Sainsburys to get some provisions, as I've just got my Nectar points through (loyalty card which gives money saving vouchers.)
Spend the night in the washing machine that is the overnight coach, then about an hour to walk to Glasgow Central Station and the boat train to Arran. It won't take an hour, that's just the timeframe.
Bus runs clockwise around the island, which will be a real treat - I've said before I've always wanted to do it. From what I can remember, Limey lives at about 40 ack emma. Certainly a good way round anyway. They don't have bus stops either! I have instructions and an address and will just act the dumb - but very polite - Sassenach and he should put me down in the right place.
Camera on charge.
Barring previous camera mishaps when travelling to Scotland, I should be able to document the whole thing.
And I will say it now so I don't repeat it ad nauseum - this trip is because of Claudette (the Limeys are taking me in to take care of me) and also in her memory. Limes and I will have our own ceremony on Thursday, or if not then as close as we can.
Limes has lost other people very dear to her, and I know I am better getting through this with her than without. She also knows about my drinking and my various tricks, so I can't bullshit her. Bri would approve.
I don't expect to post again until I am Chez Limey, at least not in this thread.
I hope no-one finds this too self-indulgent.
Reported meet-ups :hug: is not self indulgent, it's mandatory, as are pictures.
Have a smooth journey.
Have a great trip! I'm envious. I'd love to see Arran and to meet you both for tea.
I always miss out on the Arran stretch of the Glasgae gtg, because of doggy responsibilities.
One day i will make it over. I will, I will!
Chezzer: Have a good trip, m'dear. I can't think of better company or a better place in which to enjoy it.
The cats at Chateau Limey are keenly awaiting the arrival of their [strike]new heated seating[/strike] guest.
The cats at Chateau Limey are keenly awaiting the arrival of their [strike]new heated seating[/strike] guest.
hahahahahahahaha!
:apaw::apaw: No sooner did Sundae arrive than she set off again on a quick driving tour with Limey because the weather is great today, but who knows what tomorrow will bring? The Limeys made Sundae cook dinner which they declared YUMMY. We are waiting for Sundae to settle onto the sofa before we make our move ... :apaw::apaw:
Trip to Arran.
I got the bus from the hospital to Luton central, and thought I'd have to get another bus to the airport. Turns out there was a bus waiting just across the road which went to London VIA the airport. Worked out well - got on and had luggage stashed, got double-seat.
Snowing in Luton that day, the whole time I was there. Didn't settle, but made me unsettled re what would be waiting for me on my journey further North. Luton is North of Aylesbury, London is South of both. So effectively I would be retracing my route once I got on the coach in London, but it's an express so you have to go to London to catch it regardless. £10 isn't a bad fare, given it's now over £20 from Aylesbury to London.
Got to Victoria with time to spare. SO... MUCH... TIME...
Did reading and drinking water and toilet breaks (30p!) and just couldn't wait for a warm coach and a snug berth.
Didn't get.
The sleeper coach broke down before it got to Victoria.
We were loaded onto a normal coach. No bunks, no welcome tea & snacks, no breakfast in the morning. Just traffic all night North. Multiple stops for complaining drivers, yap yap yap. Cold air and noise and discomfort. I dozed off between about 05.00 and 06.30. Refund due to Limey - hope this reminds her to claim it.
My bag weighed a ton. Well, it was heavy.
I lugged it out of Buchanan Street Bus Station and stood wondering at the map. I had to get to Glasgow Central Station (I've only travelled to Queens Street before - except with Limey guiding me) when a friendly Glaswegian asked if I need help. He gave me clear and simple instructions and made it sound much closer than the map suggested.
Not only that, but having followed his route, he popped up as I was crossing a junction and pointed out a billboard to me, saying it was just above the station. Bless him. It was downhill all the way at least.
So there I was, on time, at Glasgow Central station. Too weary from dragging my bag to take any photos but on the train to Ardrossan Harbour on time and okay. With a bagel. My naughty excess to replace my missing breakfast. 08.20 is bagel time, right?
So there I was, on time, at Glasgow Central station. Too weary from dragging my bag to take any photos but on the train to Ardrossan Harbour on time and okay.
It's a certain kind of hell, having to shuffle across town on only a few hours uncomfortable sleep, dragging your heavy luggage. Why don't they ever put bus stations and train stations (and airports) in the same place?
they say....
They say there are only two kinds of people in the world, those who pack light, and those who wish they had.
Easy, train stations came first and blocks of businesses grew up around them, so when the bus stations were built everything close was taken. They could plan some inexpensive, convenient means of shuttling, but I wonder if Glasgow has enough traffic to justify it.
And airports, well they have their own issues, some are so big you have to catch a bus or cab between terminals. :haha:
They say there are only two kinds of people in the world, those who pack light, and those who wish they had.
... and those who fall into pot-holes and sheep shit or have to ford streams and wish they'd brought more clothes...
I don't think I over-packed.
I wasn't trekking.
And in a cold, damp, climate you wear whatever is available.
Many blessings on Limey and her waterproofs. 3 falls out of 4 resulted in no injury.
Get what you're saying. But my only wheelie bag is now is the biggun. So I might as well fill it. The 'rents promised to replace my suitcases when I moved in (because they were SO enormous and took up so much room) but that's gone by the by.
Never mind - given the £ I can still travel. That's gotta be good.
So, on to the ferry. The day was bright and clear and it was obvious I'd see Arran for the first time in sunlight. Happy days.
The higher ground is covered in snow, and remained so throughout my visit.
But it was warm Spring weather for pretty much the rest of the island.
Limey was busy when I arrived, but had given me careful instructions of which bus to catch and the address to give the bus driver so that I would be set down in the right place. It worked.
Brodick and the boat I came in on.
Got to Limey's house about a minute and a half before she returned. I just had time to scan the welcome note (including house plan to remind me where the bathroom was!) before she was in through the door herself. Larger than life and twice as kind. Height-wise I mean; this trip more than our Christmas jaunt allowed me to see her weight loss. Not as dramatic as mine but it really suits her.
Being Limey - wise and generous - she offered me sustenance and immediately after a trip out. Arran in the Spring, in the light and in the sunshine is very different than a whistle-stop tour in the dead of Winter and the fading light. It's just gorgeous.
We ended up in the Kinloch Hotel in Blackwaterfoot for tea & coffee. I watched seals sunning themselves from one of the large windows. If I had the money I'd stay there like a shot for the views alone. Although I have to admit Chez Limey is stiff competition. So no, scrap that - I'd rather stay with the Limeys than in a hotel.
Blackwaterfoot outside.
Me on beach. Remember I have travelled overnight with virtually no sleep at this point.
Yes I am making excuses because I think I look a little raggedy.
What glorious weather! And I'm surprised at the size of that ferry. I pictured something smaller for some reason.
That night was couscous and roasted veg night.
It was so lovely to eat with Mr & Mrs Limes, who were (undeservedly) complimentary.
Next morning I was dropped off in Whiting Bay.
The deal was that Limey drove me there and I made my own way back - by bus.
I think it was one of the many times I was offered a lift but declined. Exercise and clear air was a big part of why I was there after all.
I scrambled about on the beach and the rocks. Picked up some stones for Claudette's circle - mostly white from that beach. I also bought the two of us a libation. Two vodka miniatures (approx a double shot in each bottle.) Drank them both.
In the end Limey provided the vodka for the circle in a little flask. She managed to be both understanding and observant during my stay.
It was my first outing in the waterproofs.
I was excited because they were labelled as "Medium"!
Wow. Not XXL. Medium.
I was dubious when Limey offered them.
I even said the noise would drive me crazy.
But wiser minds prevailed. And while I was walking Whiting Bay there were a couple of squalls that would have had me wretched within 5 minutes. Instead I felt impervious to the weather and did what I wanted.
Look!
Arran hedgehog!
Whiting Bay shopping mall.
Post Office Whiting Bay and me on the bus outta there.
Not to suggest I wanted out - I'd happily live there if I didn't need to earn a living. It's beautiful even in the rain and really does meet all your basic needs.
Instead of getting the bus back to Limey's, I asked for the next village along. I felt I hadn't really walked enough (although scrambling also burns calories) and was fired up for a good walk.
Some photos of water on Arran.
Many, many more to follow.
Off we go, through the woods to Torrylin Cairn (remains of.)
800 yards my beaver. Scotland, or Arran at least, seems to use a different method of measurement than the rest of the UK. I would suggest they measure as the crow flies.
Seems mean to cavil here though, as I actually wanted exercise and was happy to climb, descend and puff and pant.
And I felt it was worth it. Claudette was very much in my mind that day. More than usual I mean. I did cry when I got there. And on the way there. And I did shout a sweary word at the sea, which sucked it up imperviously.
that forest stream is beautiful.
Cairn information board.
And view from same.
Walking back through the woods.
Old trees - not managed by the Forestry Commision. A good place to see red squirrels.
Apparently.
Little squeaky bastards hid from me the whole time I was there.
There was peace in the trees though. More of that later.
Having climbed up the steep hill to the cairn, I was able to skirt along the top on a footpath. This meant I didn't have to risk the Z bends on the road, so I was pretty chuffed.
Not far along was the Arran Creamery. Which I kept calling the Cheese Factory. Meh. They made cheese. Bought some too. Yumyum. This is what topped the tuna casserole I made on Friday.
Creamery.
Plus the road home.
Lambies!
And one of the views Limey has. Pretty much - it's not from her window but it's something she sees on a daily basis.
Off to Kildoran.
Four mile walk. Sounds good. Waterproofs as usual.
About 2/3 of the way there I am adopted by a dog. A farm dog by the looks of it - has a collar but I don't want to get too close. I'm not afraid, I just don't want to establish even a fleeting relationship.
Anyway, it skitters and clicks its way in front of me, checking I am coming up behind. It obviously has traffic sense and knows the roads. I was just worried a local might shout at me to keep my dog on a lead. But as Mr Limey pointed out later, a local would recognise the dog anyway.
It stayed with me until I got to the beach, then went its own sweet way.
Despite my worries I was pleased by its company. Wish I'd taken a photo.
Scrambled around on this beach too.
Got the mauve stones for Bri here. And one for me. I'm going to paint her name on it and keep it as a small treasure.
More running water.
Bus back, despite Limey offering a lift. She was working from home and I felt the least I could do was not bother her.
Road to the sea from the bus stop.
Lane down to the hotel from same.
What, no picture of the dog? [SIZE="1"]Damn mutter cat grumble people...[/SIZE]
Stylin' lid, homegrrl.
When you say "It seems mean to cavil..." do you use 'mean' as in stingy, or unkind?
I have no idea what stylin' lid means!
Nice hat?
I used mean to suggest I was being unfair and unappreciative.
After all these poor people dragged/ rolled/ manhandled enormous pieces of rock to this location, simply so I could turn up in the 21st century and bitch about whether 800 yards is really 800 yards.
Stylin' lid does mean nice hat!
In that case, ta Foot!
Just talked to both the Limes.
They are effectively snowed in.
No electricity, but they are prepared for that.
Open fire and camping stove and all that and everything.
Damn.
Wish I was there.
I want to live there! Gorgeous.
Wiki says May and June are the sunniest months, 200 hours of bright sunshine each year.
Hmm, 61 days is 1464 hours. With 15 hours of daylight at the first of May, and 17 hours at the end of June, that's 950/1000 hours of daylight.
That's the trouble with beautiful places, they take so much maintenance. ;)
Snowing here today as well!
Still wish I was snowed in on Arran.
We went back to Brodick that afternoon, as the Limeys had some teaching to do on the brass front. I had a lovely wander. Went down the the charity shop (closed) and into the chocolate shop just for a sniff, and really just poked about in the sunshine.
When the Limeys were through I met them at the library. Limey had taken out a book for me - she thought she had it at home but wasn't sure (she did, as it turned out.) Riddley Walker by Russell Hoban. Vastly under-rated book in my opinion, in that I had never even heard of it, but it was extraordinary.
All three of us (four if you include Riddley) headed off to the largest supermarket on the island, the Co-op, for snacks for the evening of horror DVDs. Vegetable crisps in case you're interested.
Gorgeous pics; I wish I could visit. Thanks for sharing, Sundae.
Yah, we're under a deep snow fall right now as well. It's been snowing non-stop since early hours of yesterday morning. With very high winds that have swept and scoured the snow into a strange alien landscape. And every time I open my front door, a small wall of snow falls into my kitchen :p
Gorgeous pics as per, dahling. Very nice. I just wish I could have joined ya :)
And so to the reason for the trip.
A day I was anticipating and dreading. And I've seen it approaching in the photos and felt the same.
How can I possibly do it justice?
I hope I don't come across too cold. The feelings were there, I just don't want to belittle them with purple prose.
Limey chose the location. Being a local and all. We went to Machrie Moor, where there are a number of standing stones and stone circles. You may not be able to read all the text from these photos, but if you are interested you can look them up. As far as I am concerned, the most important information is in the second photo.
A Special Place
You are standing in a sacred landscape where a complex story of belief and ritual has unfolded over thousands of years.
Requiescat in pace, Claudette.
As I've said in the Trilby thread, this was a bit of a trek.
In the Summer, in flipflops and sunshine, it would be a lovely stroll. In the Spring (ha!) it was rainy, muddy, cold. On the way there it felt like we walked five miles, although on the way back the two miles signposted did seem realistic.
The landscape there is littered with age-old memorials.
It's very sobering. In the midst of life etc.
Kiss someone or something today, even if it's a pet.
We walked past a number of standing stones and circles.
This one just felt right.
There was a stone I was drawn to. As I went around it I saw the moss? lichen? on the other side. As Mark Gatiss says as Mick McNamara, "Life finds a way."
Here is me.
Cold and sad.
But Limey gives very good hugs.
Details of our goodbye to Claudette
here (Cellar link).
Thanks for sharing Sundae. A brighter day is coming ...
Well now.
It seems to be wrong moving on so quickly from death to life. It didn't feel like that in the course of hours though.
Saturday was the day when the K social club opened. It was a big deal. Limes was woven into the very carpet of it; it could not have happened without her. So of course I wanted to be there too. And it was catered. Blimey, I can't think of a more relevant wake for Brianna. Apart from the fact that the woman wasn't there. Damn, she was never present in reality, how come she's so absent in my life now?
Mr & Mrs Limey went to the social club at about 18.00.
I knew there'd be nothing for me to do other than sit and drink. So I agreed to get the bus about 20.00. I was all ready to leave - dressed to impress and the house in decent condition - at about 19.40. I decided I would set off on foot.
Okay I am wearing my slightly stack-heeled boots, but I wore them up to Glasgow and found them damned comfortable. And I had Lola's torch (flashlight) to light the way. I even had an umbrella because that night the rain was light and there was very little wind.
Perfick.
AH. No.
Bus went past me outside the Creamery (cheese factory)
I lost my perspective. I was so close to the hall, and having successfully beaten the bus I started casting the torch further ahead. Missed the deep and muddy pothole by my feet. There was a sickening lurch as I fell into it. I wanted to cry. I'd made a real effort that night and I'd walked nearly two miles and I was sober and all that. And yet I was going to turn up at the door as a shambling wreck.
I held my tears in.
I got to the door.
Mr Limey greeted me and was appalled by my injuries. Most of which were dealt with by a trip to the Ladies to be honest.
Limey was already on stage. Mr Limey got me a drink and steered me into the hall.
I was punctured, but happy. Twas a good evening.
It's been a week, but I'm still bruised. Must remember to take a pic for you.
Limey modelling her band "uniform". They all wear black ('cept the singer)
Limes chooses the Cellar. Good girl.
Me.
Well, there are never enough photos of me on the Cellar, right?
Taken in dim light, so although Limey kindly took about four, the only one in focus was me looking away from the camera.
I've included a blurry one as proof.
And it shows Limey's gorgeous house and the room we ate in every evening.
Oh, forgot to mention I fell into a muddy, deep pothole in a dry-clean only silk skirt.
£12.50 to clean.
I bought it for about a quarter of that amount.
Send all donations to Claudette's family.
Just went though this entire thread. Absolutely amazing.
Where you went, how you traveled, all the walking. The scenery ... OMG. Unreal no words. And you. My goodness, you look beautiful. You seem to be 1/2 the woman you were - and I mean that in a good way ;)
There's Limey. Luckily she's taken or I'd be thinking of making a major move east across the sea. lol
This thread is awesome. I have been seeing the posts as they've come in, but I just went back and read again from the start. Taken together it reads like the very best travel literature. Not the guide books, but the tales of real travel and real people and an emotional core. You have the knack of bringing your reader right into the picture.
And it was lovely to be able to share in your tribute to our dear friend. Really means a lot that.
Also: you and Limes both look so great. You've got some excellent snaps there.
[eta] Boots look fine, girl, really fine.
Sundae, off to Eas Mor Falls.
Sunday too.
I'd asked Limey if it was worth seeing because I passed the sign on my way to Kildoran. She said it depended on the recent rainfall. Given that I'd been rained on every day since I arrived (okay, not the day I arrived) I guessed it was worth a trip. Limey was working again, but I was happy to walk the three miles to the turn-off. She agreed to pick me up.
Only I didn't have to walk - hahaha.
I was about a mile and a half down the road when a black shiny car pulled up and offered me a lift.
Well it was so black and so shiny and it was raining so how could I refuse?
Lovely Scottish couple. Came to Arran this time every year to avoid the tourists. I mean, yes they were lovely, but they were obviously crackers. They CHOSE to come in the rain/ sleet/ hail / snow (all of which I saw)?
I could understand the lady, but the man was frankly unintelligible to me. Bless him. Anyway, they took me to the turn-off and wished me well.
Limes said that the initial climb was a bit taxing. Or something like that. Something that suggested it might be like dragging a bag across Glasgow.
NO.
It was torture. I had to stop every hundred yards to catch my breath. My heart decided it didn't want to be in my body any more. At least that's how it felt when it was trying to beat an exit. Steep?! I should bloody cocoa.
But it was marvellous too. Every other step raised you above the road and looking back after ten steps showed an amazing achievement. And it was soon done, for all my moaning. Underneath the chubby outside I am actually quite fit, something I hope Limey will attest to when she is finally back on the National Grid (oh, the power outage on Arran is now national news.)
The falls were gorge. In a gorge, ya get me?
You could hear them from quite a way off.
The only insect in the ointment was a biker. Cyclist. Set off after me, but overtook me. Lean and muscular but even he had to carry his bike up the steep parts.
What an annoyance. Sunday morning, MARCH! cold and wet and I still don't have the place to myself. Ridiculous. But I channelled peace. It's hard not to in a place like that.
The woods were lovely, green and deep.
And this was just the beginning. You could hear the road from here.
M. Biker had climbed over the fence to get a closer look at the Falls. Rather him than me, I still had the memory of last night's Fall in my mind. A slip from the top of there would result in more than a muddy skirt.
Onwards and upwards, as Limey and I said many times during my visit.
Given that Bike Chap had headed over the bridge to the little community centre, I decided not to dog his steps. And given that I hadn't walked the full three miles, I thought the further walk, to Loch Garbad (a mile it said) would be good further exercise.
I'm glad I did.
The silence and peace in the woods was almost tangible. On the way back I sneezed and it rang around the forest like a maroon. But I'm getting ahead of myself here.
Thank goodness for boots (wellies, not stack heels) and waterproofs. It was almost all uphill and I felt like I was Bilbo Baggins. Without the company. Nothing like home, it felt so remote. I forgave it the petty annoyances of mud, water, rain and climbs. Maybe the Scottish couple weren't fruitloops after all - I can't imagine better weather to make this journey in.
Stream.
Stream across the track.
Not the last I would encounter either.
And water. Always water. To offset the silence of the trees.
After the climb (and the last climb was a muddy and steep terror) the reward.
Loch Garbad.
Me with hat hair.
And hot from climbing, climbing, climbing. And not falling over.
Quick word here about the biker.
It turned out he was really nice. Some sort of Scandinavian. Or Dutch. Well, not British anyway.
I glanced behind on the last hill to see how far I'd come and bugger me if it's not my nemesis carrying his bike up the track!
At that point I did stop thinking of myself completely and wonder if he was just as disappointed as me to find someone else in a reasonably remote location.
Anyway, by the time he got to the top, I had already disrobed to an extent, had taken my photos and was ready to descend. We exchanged a few sentences and I realised he was a proper human being and not an annoyance. He was in fact quite charming.
He buzzed past me on the way down saying "Unt here comes der eazy part!" I thought - yes for you it is, I still have to work out how not to roll down the hillside! I resisted asking for a backie though, the man had an iron sphincter to take the way back on two wheels.
As I walked back down the hill (yes, it did feel like a mile on the way back - just not on the way there) it snowed. As I descended it became sleet and then drizzle. Waterproofs back on. Collected by Limey.
That eve we had marinated chicken with slightly undercooked roasted carrots, then went back to the Social Club.
Limey wanted to check how things had ended up the night before, and see how it was doing after the jubilee of the opening night. Gave me a chance to sit in the bar, which was packed stiff the night before.
Pool room, and dog in a bar.
See, Bruce? I can do dogs too.
Safes used as part of bar furniture. Steampunk/ Torchwood look.
Something else safe - Mr & Mrs Limey.
I have to say it's not a great picture of Mr Limey.
He is more handsome than the photo shows. I've never thought Limey comes across as her best in photos either, but I changed my mind when I saw her wedding photos. Okay, she was sublimely happy, but the camera caught her beauty that day too.
Thanks so much for giving us a peek in. Look like good folk.
Good to see you, Mr. Limey! You have a lovely wife.
Thanks to all for comments.
I'm still going I'm afraid...
Thought I would show you my accommodation.
The Limeys have a wonderfully comfortable sofa bed. Far better than the one we have here, despite the fact Mum uses it damn near every night.
And cats, cats of course.
And me.
BTW - none of my teeth are grey OR black.
It's a camera glitch I have been aware of for a while.
No, really.
You can ask the Dwellars who've met me. My teeth are not American-perfect. They are uneven and they are naturally a shade of yellow. But I was told years ago that the colour of my teeth suggested they were stronger than average. And to date I have had no fillings, no teeth extracted and no toothache ever.
But okay, they don't look good in some photos.
So. Back to Arran.
My trip to Blackwaterfoot.
I went there with Limey the day I arrived, and she dropped me off this time as well.
Plan was to walk to King's Cave.
Blackwaterfoot in general.
Gosh the walk to King's Cave was tough.
I thought I had everything nailed after the walking I'd done. NO.
The mud on Arran is sooooooooo slippy!
I'm used to good old Vale of Aylesbury heavy clay. It doubles your weight within ten steps, but you can't fall over in it. You're anchored by it.
Started following the signs for the Cave but after a while I admit I lost faith. There were no further signs, the going was tough and I had a bus to catch. Not making excuses. I fell over twice before I decided to call it a day. Once on the steep hill, once on the flat. First fall I lost my popcorn. Not a euphemism; I had a bag of healthy air-popped corn which the wind gleefully scattered for me.
Second I just slid sideways in the silt. And lay there for a few moments considering my position. Prone, as it turned out.
So I simply turned around and gave up. Something I regretted enormously. Until Limey made me feel better the next day. Exhaustive research ( map of Arran) proved I was going the right way. But it wasn't obvious at the time. And I made the bus with ten minutes to spare - meaning an extra five minutes walking there and back. I still wouldn't have reached the Caves.
Oh and I fell again, in the sheep shit, on my way back. Broke my watch. Broke my watch so bad it couldn't be fixed. Forget Australia people, Arran is just as bloody lethal.
Blackwaterfoot on the way back.
And a welcoming fire at the Limeys'.
Limes was ever so good to me.
Well she was in all aspects, but particularly in respect of the fire.
I used to have an open fire, and let the male visitors to the house take care of it. Not because I am a weak and silly woman, but because I am a manipulative one. The deal was they could build and light the fire, but only if they cleaned it out thoroughly beforehand.
Then again, I cooked for them in return, so I guess it was all gender-role-playing after all.
Anyway, Limey understood my need for crackle-crackle-burn-burn and heaped on wood for my benefit alone. Now she and Mr Limey are snowed in I feel guilty at the profligate use of wood I urged her into.
Fantastic job of;
1- documenting your trip with excellent pictures,
2- letting us share not only the look, but feel, of Arran,
3- giving us a glimpse of the Limeys, and their cozy home,
4- the lovely Collie. :p:
It's funny, I noticed the safe under snacks at the end of the bar, a couple of pictures before you showed the two safes. I love the look of old safes, but it made me wonder why Arran has a surplus to donate to the club. Are people upgrading to bigger/stronger safes, or is the island getting safer(no pun).
It appears the Limeys have settled into the type of community I remember from my youth, where everyone knows everyone, and are willing to share what they can. It's nice when that's the norm rather than the exception.
My main trek with Limey.
Apart from the Bri trek I mean. But this was was more about exercise and less about emotion.
Limes says the initial part of the route is a little tricky.
Yeah right. Like hell is warm.
Scared the life outta me!
I think I forgot to tell her how much I was spooked by heights.
Poor Limes had to climb around me on the rock-scrambling part of the walk, and physically pull me up. I was honestly frozen, and not by cold.
We then went around the hill on a rackety sheep track. Again I was terrified. One slip and I would have my cheek flayed open by the wire fencing, or skid down a hill in brokenness and no mobile signal to save me. Remember I still had the muscle memory of falling from the day before.
Limey strode ahead like Good Kind Wenceslas. I followed. She's a bonny lass to follow.
Once we were after the sheep track, we were on a very well maintained rough stone road. It dipped and peaked, but despite the snow I could have walked on it forever. Just one foot in front of the other, head down girls, on we go.
Snow? Oh yes. I asked for it and it came.
Snow and wind, flurries in our faces all the way there.
Trouble.
Yes, sadly there was trouble.
Got 2/3 of way there (we think) only to find the burn is running across the track.
And when I say running across, I don't mean the little streams I've forded before. I mean a dirty great river with a fair amount of power behing it. And Limey's boots are only showerproof.
There is a potential crossing a little further up, but the rocks look very slippy, and some are actually underwater. Limes and I agree that it's really not worth the risk. Saying that, we check two or three times and walk up through the wet grass to the potential crossing anyway. No. It really isn't worth the risk.
So what do you do if you're English, halfway up a mountain, in the snow?
PICNIC TIME!
Island culture seems to preserve a little of that community feel. I guess its the semi-isolation.
Limey who is generous is every respect, bought the rolls in Brodick.
She understands the importance of supporting local businesses.
So she chose a ham, brie and mango chutney roll. Which I coveted. The closest was a bacon, brie and chutney roll, but I am always wary of the bacon other people cook. Especially when they leave the rind on.
Guess what?
Limes said I could have the ham one and she had the bacon one.
She's a lady.
Also bought me two white cobs for the journey home.
I filled them with corned beef and hot beetroot chutney.
Om nomnomnom.
Et them both within half an hour of leaving Glasgow...
Limey in the invisible snow.
The stairs to Mordor.
Photo-wise, tis done.
I had a problem free journey back.
Midday, mid-week, got a double-seat.
Only detour was Preston, which I esteem anyway as the birthplace of Steve Pemberton.
And I got the Sheldon photo.
I could not have had a better time on Arran if I'd won the Lottery. I was so well looked after. The household was so calm and welcoming. The cats were too. And although it might look like I explored, in truth I barely scratched the surface. Do go if you can.
Arran always meant Mr & Mrs Limey to me anyway.
Now it also means Brianna.
I carry them all in my belly like some big pre-historic carving.
Nice pictures. I was intrigued by the fact that the local hotel was a Best Western. Are they everywhere? It looks like Arran is not as isolated as I thought after looking at the tourism website.
It's true - it's not really isolated, but it feels a world away from Scotland.
And further from England.
You can see Northern Island from Arran.
Wow Sundae, I've got to say despite your ever increasing radiance, Arran certainly does agree with you. Maybe you could move there. What the hell do people do for a living there? Besides soak in all the beauty?
Well they do soak up my reflected beauty, it's true. A job in itself.
And do normal things like work in shops and banks and drive buses and clean rooms in hotels.
Nice people also teach music to childer and work online as translators. But that gets buggered up when there is a power cut, and the cats worry about whether they are going to get fed. Nice people are used to the weather and are well-provisioned of course.
And other people just visit and dream of the day when they can finally write their magnum opus, even though their co-author has checked out.
I finally got a chance to read the rest of this thread on a proper computer screen. My little phone screen didn't do it justice.
It's simply outstanding. From beginning to end. Thanks for documenting your trip so well. Almost as good as being there.
I'm struck by all the pictures of forest on Arran. I thought Arran was more, well barren. I'm not sure why I thought that. Maybe because Arran rhymes with barren. And I didn't expect it to be so treacherous!
It's a spectacular place, and I'm really glad you shared it with us.
It's funny, I noticed the safe under snacks at the end of the bar, a couple of pictures before you showed the two safes. I love the look of old safes, but it made me wonder why Arran has a surplus to donate to the club. Are people upgrading to bigger/stronger safes, or is the island getting safer(no pun).
Honest answer is that people have higher tech ways of storing money/ valuables these days. Whimsical answer is that they know in a small community someone will notice sudden wealth and they'll find themselves burned in the next Wicker Man festival.
It appears the Limeys have settled into the type of community I remember from my youth, where everyone knows everyone, and are willing to share what they can. It's nice when that's the norm rather than the exception.
It is wonderful, but the Limeys put in the work too. You can't just luck into a place like that - Limey has given time and expertise and her training in finance free of chrage. She is a very good organiser it's true, so it may come naturally, but she has made the effort all the same. Also true of Mr Limey.
Many of you will know or guess what he does, but Arran being a small place it's important to me to respect their privacy. He is a known face and deservedly so. Limey is also known online, which is why she is very careful to keep her name private, or at least not on record here.
Glatt, I may be partly responsible for your view of Arran!
The few photos I have taken have been in December or January, and I have never ventured further than the coast road, usually after dark. I knew Arran was forested of course, but it's hard to get the full picture if you only see it travelling at just under the legal speed limit ;)
Gosh I have to go in summer. The place is like an Enid Blyton setting. It cries out for long skirts and plimsolls and drinks on the terrace. Oh, scratch that. I'll have lashings of ginger beer instead. And while we're at it I'll skip the casual racism too :angel: (a ref to Ms Blyton, not to anyone on the Cellar)
Taken together it reads like the very best travel literature.
At the risk of repeating myself, Sundae has a knack, one that could be a profitable career, I think.
Really, Sundae. Think about it.
At the risk of repeating myself, Sundae has a knack, one that could be a profitable career, I think.
Really, Sundae. Think about it.
I agree; I think you should consider it, Sundae. And thank you again for the wonderful virtual tour. It was the next best thing to being there.
About a year ago I entered a competition to tour Denmark and write up the experience as a real person, not a travel journalist. You had to submit an article (not published anywhere else) and there was a sliding scale of prizes.
I submitted.
I never heard from them again.
I guess us Dwellars have similar mindsets, so enjoy eachother's commentrries.
The rest of the world might not think so (clumsy House of Cards ref.)
Bill Bryson (who I adore) doesn't need to worry just yet. Maybe I'll make it to being an octogenarian and find a niche travel market.
Sigh. The way things are going I'll be lucky to reach 41. But that's a whole other story.
The thing about writing is you have to keep trying and submitting. A lot of us don't have the heart for the rejection, but you have talent. You are one of maybe three regular folks here who could be doing this professionally.
True dat. Rejection I mean.
The reason I never went into acting - had the lead or best female part in all the school schows. Was told I was a cert for RADA. Couldn't handle to constant rejection, made me physically sick.
Maybe I should try harder with writing.
But there are so many wannabes out there. I just can't see anything in me that would
Argh.
Ending the post before I go crazy.
Cellar is fine for me.
There was a great piece, by an author whose name I don't recall, entitled "In rejection I remain" I'm pretty sure. It was about how this writer had submitted dozens or hundreds of essays to this one particular magazine and all had been rejected for one reason or other, finally they accepted one of his pieces and I think he chose to reject their acceptance. It was about 20 years ago that I read it and my memory is hazy.
I'll have to hunt around for my xeroxed copy.
hmm, well that was easy. Sort of.
http://thesunmagazine.org/issues/235You can send Limey food and spices, but no money. ;)
Yeah, once you're on the needle, there's no quitting.