Applecross – More than an Inn

There are a few places in this world I think of as home and Applecross is at the top of the list.  So it was a thrill to take Bessie over the famous Bealach na Bà, the imposing mountain pass and winding single track road that separates Applecross from the rest of the world.  To meet a vehicle on the road is bad enough in a car but when driving a large van the prospect is daunting.  No matter how many times I go there my heart always lifts at the first sight of Applecross Bay.

The famous Bealach na Bà

 We owned a house on the peninsula, in the small hamlet of Toscaig, between 2003 and 2006 and although it was hard work to maintain, these were some of my happiest and most inspirational years.   So it was no surprise we headed to Toscaig as soon as we arrived.  

As we drove to the pier, I spotted all the new developments and was pleased to note nothing spoiled.  We were delighted to see our old house looking well cared for.  We never seemed to find the time to give the old croft house the care it required.    At the pier changes were few and for the better.  New barriers had replaced the rotting timbers.  The oystercatchers were still presiding over the shoreline; seals nosied around the pier; it was raining – no, not much changes.

I heard a cuckoo, but Colin couldn’t.  The cuckoo is the overriding audio from our time there, could I be imagining it for old time sake?

The road north with Raasay in the background

As we sat down to our dinner of scallops and Stornoway Black Pudding we spotted our past neighbour, Robert, skilfully bring his yacht to anchor in Toscaig Loch.  He had sailed over and back to Broadford, Skye, for his weekly shop, as you do.   We caught up on all the Tosciag gossip while he admired Bessie and pondered swapping the boat for a van.

Next day we drove up to Applecross village.  Wild camping is discouraged on the main bay but we found a good spot on the north side and within easy walking distance to the pub.

The Applecross Inn has always been a popular spot but the good food reviews it has received in recent years along with featuring in the MontyHalls TV show have turned this pub into a mega tourist attraction.   Despite the fame we always receive a great welcome from the owner Judith and when things settle down for a few minutes she joined us to fill us in on the rest of the gossip.  

I was honoured that she, and some of the locals, had read and enjoyed my novel The Incomers.  It’s a bit of a paradox but I felt I belonged.

Our new camping stop was idyllic, with fine views over to Skye and Raasay.

The next day we woke to the sound of many cuckoos - so I hadn't imagined after all.  The weather had cleared and we managed a walk we never did when we stayed here; the ridge above Strath Maol Chalum. It was a steep ascent (and descent) but a fabulous ridge walk along to the high point trig at 626 metres. Amazing views to Skye and Raasay to the west and the Torridon range to the east.

The voice of Sorlie Maclean reciting Hallaig rang in my head as I looked on Raasay’s flat topped Dun Caan, giving me the soundtrack for this trip.  Deer watched us from the hillside as we headed back to the van.  The sun slashed through the darkening clouds giving the Minch dabs of that special light peculiar to this coastline.  At that moment there was no finer place to be.

As a thank you to the bay I did a #2minutebeach clean before we left.  There was surprisingly little rubbish but I left it cleaner than I found it.

On our drive out of Applecross we visited an old friend we heard had been ill. I am pleased to say we found him well on the way to recovery.   It was with joy not sadness that we waved him goodbye in the knowledge that Applecross will always be there for us.

The locally appropriate literature I have chosen for this trip is Calum’s Road, Roger Hutchinson’s inspiring account of the back breaking work of Calum Macleod who, despite being in his fifties and armed with only a pick and wheel barrow, built a stretch of road over the course of ten years to give the inhabitants of a remote hamlet on Raasay access to the rest of the world.  As well as being well written it has a wonderful sense of place and gives the reader an insight into what life is like in remote communities.

Bands of Gold – Fèis Rois 2014

Fèis in Scottish Gaelic means “festival” or “feast.”  Over the years the word Fèis has become synonymous with the Fèisean movement (Fèisean is the plural of Fèis)  A movement set up in the 1980s to encourage, mostly young people, to celebrate and learn the music and song culture connected with the Gaelic language.  There are now hundreds of Fèisean in the calendar with Fèis Rois (Rois is the Gaelic word for Ross-shire) being held for adults in Ullapool in the first weekend in May.

Loch Broom from the campsite

We attended Fèis Rois in 2011 and 2012 when our accommodation was a rented chalet in the hamlet of Ardmair three miles north of Ullapool.  Then we envied the campers who were in the heart of the town, they could stay out late at pub sessions and could toddle along to the classes at the last minute.  This year was different.  Bessie had us trundling into the fast filling campsite on Friday evening and by the time you could say ‘hook-up’ we were hooked up and off to the chippy for a much anticipated fish supper.

Registration took place in Ullapool High School next morning and it is there we picked up our bands of gold. These wrist bands entitle the wearer to get into all the many fringe events taking place throughout the town, like any festival the wristbands are on for the duration.

Unlike the other years both Colin and I chose the same classes. Morning was Intermediate Guitar with the very young and hugely talented Matheu Watson and in the afternoon we were beginning Step Dancing with John Sikorski.

Bands of Gold

I was a bit apprehensive about both classes. My guitar is always a bit hit or miss, but Matheu is an excellent teacher and introduced everyone in the class to drop D tuning. He has a knack of making music theory simple. And his famous people stories kept us entertained while we gave our hands a rest from the contortions of new chord shapes.

The step dancing class was mixed ability but most were beginners.  John took us through the Strathspey and Reel steps and consolidated our learning as we went.  By the end of day one we’d learned (not mastered) a dozen new chord shapes and as many dance steps. By four o'clock my brain was puree.

But there was no time for relaxing. It was back to the van, shower, change, food and off to the school for the Homecoming Concert.  Cathy-Ann Macphee, Louise Mackenzie and Patsy Seddon had all been involved in the first Fèis Rois in 1986.  Their performance was a selection of Gaelic song, clarsach and fiddle tunes with some good old craic thrown in for a laugh.  This was followed by Rant, a quartet of fine female fiddlers, Jenna and Bethany Reid, Lauren Maccoll and Sarah-Jane Summers.  Even after all the dancing toes were still tapping jig time.

Aaron Jones, Jenna and Bethany Reid in session at The Argyll Hotel

And that wasn't the end of the night.  Nearly every pub in Ullapool had a music session happening. We dashed for a seat in The Argyll Hotel where things were already in full swing with some local musicians and Aaron Jones. We were soon joined by Jenna and Bethany who fairly pumped up the pace. Keep up or listen is the moto at these sessions, I mostly listened and it was a treat.

Despite the late night we had to do it all again next day. The Sunday evening is dedicated to the tutors concert, a great opportunity to see everything that is on offer. The hall was packed for this highlight, but the gold band secures entry.   On the way back to the campsite we popped into The Arch to watch the Simon Bradley Trio play an unusual mix of fiddle, viola and with Matheu on guitar.  Excellent. We left them to it about midnight.

Mondays are shorter teaching days but Matheu still managed to cram in some theory and taught us how to play The Beatles Blackbird. (I can’t say I learned it though but I have the gist.)

If it sounds exhausting it’s because it is.

By the time we got to the step dancing I was Feis’d out.  After such a packed weekend there was only one thing left to do.  Go to the Ceilidh Place for a well-deserved beer and wonder if tomorrow any of the chords or steps will be remembered. 

A huge thanks to all the organisers who make things run smoothly and keep everyone supplied with tea, coffee, cakes and music. They deserve more than a beer.