12 Bus Buspack to Orkney Part Two

St Magnus Cathedral sits slap bang in the middle of Kirkwall so is useful for using as a landmark to help navigate around the narrow streets. It was founded in 1138 by the Viking Earl Rognvald in honour of his uncle St Magnus. It is a regal structure built of red and yellow sandstone and a perfect setting for a folk concert. I booked the tickets late for Lau (Orkney word meaning natural light) so we were in the restricted view area – inside the high ceiling is supported by many stone pillars so the of restricted view is quite large. We joined the queue early and were lucky enough to find seats near the front.

St Magnus Cathedral

We have seen Lau before (guitar, fiddle and accordion), also their guitarist Kris Drever at Celtic Connections. We thought we knew what we were letting ourselves in for – we were wrong. Lau played their new album in the second half and introduced the audience to a new contraption called Morag, a sort of homemade gizmo that produced the weirdest sounds. At one point all three band members were gathered round Morag adding their own twist to their instruments – they looked like three mad scientists. At first I thought ‘oh no’ but then the sound grew on me. Traditional acoustic sounds crescendoed in waves, brewing to full strength before taming and reducing. It was innovative and fresh. The encore was the excellent song Ghosts which sent shivers down my spin.

The Old Library

Next day was rainy. We had a lazy start and made our way back to The Old Library for brunch with Helene and Sandy, two friends from Glasgow who were also visiting for the festival. While we chatted I enjoyed a delicious smashed avocado and poached egg and lots of fresh brewed coffee. Helene and Sandy had tickets for an afternoon event in Stromness while we had tickets for an event in St Andrews.

When I booked the tickets I didn’t realise that the venue was outside of Kirkwall, then when we arrived in Orkney we discovered there were no buses to there on a Sunday. We had no choice but to hire a taxi.

St Andrews is a little community twelve miles east of Kirkwall and the home to Sheila Fleet Jewellery who sponsored the concert. The village hall was a great venue with plenty of seats and not too noisy with the rain battering down on the roof.

First on stage was Benedict Morris (fiddle) with PabloLafuente (guitar) and Conal McDonagh (pipes and whistle). These three young men produced a sound that was quick, slick and very polished. Benedict appeared to be a reluctant singer but his voice is excellent and I hope they keep the song in their set.  Next up was Heisk an all-female sparkly six piece and although I enjoyed them they weren’t as slick as the previous act. Next on the bill was Irish singer Cara Dillon who appeared with husband Sam Lakeman and a mandolin player. Again we have seen them perform before and I had forgotten what an engaging performer Cara Dillon is. I particularly loved her own composition, The Leaving Song.

Things were running a bit late and our return taxi had arrived early but we hung on and watched most of Kinnaris Quintet before heading back.

Sparkly Heisk

The rain was torrential when we left St Andrews so we had the driver drop us off at the Bothy Bar. We grabbed a quick drink before running round to our dinner reservation at Helgi’s, the must visit restaurant in Kirkwall. We both had burgers and chips and it was good but not outstanding so I’m not sure what all the fuss is about. I topped off my Orkeny gastronomy with one scoop of Orkney vanilla ice cream, a fitting end to the trip.

We had an early rise and pack up to catch the 7.00am bus to St Margaret’s Hope. I’m glad we planned to do this round trip because the bus ride allowed us to see the southern part of the islands; to cross the Churchill barriers and pass the Italian Chapel.

Leaving Orkney

The Pentland Ferries boat to Gills Bay is small but efficient – even before we left port we were munching sausage on a roll and coffee. Most of the travellers seemed to be workers heading for a week’s work on the mainland. The crossing was fair with good views back to Orkney. Number 77 bus picked us up shortly after disembarking and dropped us at Wick were we had a short wait for the X99 to Inverness. Unlike the trip up from Inverness, the weather was good so the journey was pleasant. Unfortunately we couldn’t get on two fully booked Megabuses so had two hours to hang about in Inverness. We reached Perth at 6.00pm and had another hour wait for the M8 to Stirling, but that gave Colin the chance to nip down to the nearby Spar and buy a tin of beans.

As we approached Stirling the rain started again but we weren’t too worried, we were almost home. We assumed there would be a Unilink waiting but didn’t know that at that time of night the University buses cut the service back so we had a further delay in Stirling.

We arrived home at 8.30pm fourteen hours after leaving the campsite in Kirkwall. The pile of waiting mail and discarded rucksacks were ignored until we’d eaten our beans on toast and congratulated ourselves on a successful mini adventure.

12 Bus Buspack to Orkney Part One

12 buses, 2 ferries, 2 campsites,1 haircut,  2 concerts, 3 catch-up with friends, 4 library visits, 1 return taxi ride, many ancient sites, a lost water bottle and a new pair of Sheila Fleet earrings.

Tickets

 These are some of the numbers from our latest bus packing trip to Orkney.  Why Orkney?  I thought it would be fun to see how far we could reach in a day with our bus passes.  We had one free weekend in the calendar and I was delighted to find out it coincided with the Orkney Folk festival.

We planned the travel through Traveline Scotland but have now discovered that is not always the best way. The most important lesson we learned was to book the Perth/Inverness/Perth Megabus well in advance. This proved to be a mega busy route.

And we are off!

We left our home in Stirling at about 9.30am last Wednesday morning, jumped on a local bus then caught the Citylink to Perth which takes about 30 minutes. The bus had come from Glasgow and was busy. The woman in the seat behind had an annoying whiny voice which was bearable until we reached Dunblane (ten minutes out of Stirling) when she proceeded to wail on and on about the tragedy that happened in 1996 as if she had some involvement and had exclusive rights to sympathy. I tried to shut her out but couldn’t and was glad when her travelling companion took over the monologue.

Still not half way

We had a good change over to the Inverness megabus and settled back for the relaxing ride. I had made a picnic so we munched while watching the A9 scenery whizz by. I was surprised when the attendant offered us cake and a drink but it was most welcome. Four hours after we left home we reached Inverness bus station. We were still not half way there.

'Driving the bus'

We had left Stirling in sunshine but the clouds darkened the further north we travelled. The next stage of the journey, Inverness to Scrabster, was long but I knew the scenery would be magnificent. It was a double decker and, like a kid, I jumped in the front seat upstairs pretending to be the bus driver, but it was a bumpy rollercoaster ride and maybe not the best seat. 

When it rained the windows steamed up and it grew cold. 

We were both relieved to reach Scrabster and the warm MV Hamnavoe bar for the last leg of our journey.

A welcome Orkney Ale on the ferry

We disembarked in Stromness at 8.30pm, eleven hours after we left home. It was lashing with rain as we scuttled the mile distance to the campsite. We pitched in the rain but were soon cosy in sleeping bags sipping a dram and congratulating ourselves on the successful journey.

Our Peedie Tent

Rain and wind battered our wee tent through the night but it held well. The Ness Campsite has good facilities; a cosy sitting room and a kitchen with kettle and microwave. This meant we could cook and eat our porridge in luxury. The lounge was also a good place to meet fellow travellers.

The bad weather continued throughout the day. We visited Stromness Library, with its open views and fabulous George Mackay Brown Collection; The Pier Arts Centre, celebrating its fortieth anniversary; braved a walk to the trig point on the local hill, Brinkies Brae which proved a strange experience: as the rain was soaking us, the stiff wind simultaneously dried us. After yet one more cup of tea in a café we gave in and headed for the pub.

Binkies Brae

The Ferry Inn was busy and welcoming and although still early evening a traditional music session was in full swing. We shoehorned ourselves into a corner to enjoy the music and a pint of Orkney’s fine ale. The surroundings were so convivial that we ordered fish and chips and settled for a while. We were just getting ready to leave when two familiar faces appeared. Charlotte and Donald are friends from Stirling, they have a boat and are both excellent session players. We had no idea they were coming to the festival. It was wonderful to chat and listen to their playing. I had brought my whistle along on the trip and was sad I’d left it in the tent. They invited us to stay on their boat but we had made plans and were leaving Stromness next day.

Next morning the weather improved enough to allow us to get the tent down and packed in the dry. We caught the 9.10am bus to Kirkwall, jumped off at Pickaquoy Campsite, put the tent up and headed into town.

We first met Orkney residents David and Pattie in Applecross many years ago and have kept in touch. When we knew we were coming to town we arranged to meet in Kirkwall’s Old Library, now Sound Archive and Groove Records, a wonderful establishment with a fine coffee shop, record store, toy shop and what can only be described as an emporium. After a lovely catch-up we were once again let loose to explore.

Orkney Library's famous balls

Colin went for a haircut while I chose a pair of earrings from the Sheila Fleet store. Kirkwall is larger than Stromness, but although dominated by the magnificent St Magnus Cathedral I feel it lacks the charm of its smaller neighbour. But it is home to the now world famous Twitter star @OrkneyLibrary. A visit was a must.  I took photos of the famous library balls and introduced myself to the staff. They were lovely and very proud of their fame.

In the evening we ate in the authentic Italian restaurant Lucano and ended up in The Wrigley Sister's Reel Bar for another Trad session. This time I carried my whistle in my handbag, but the session was a local affair with much singing and I found I could only play a few tunes so didn’t stay too late.

We discovered, while pouring over bus timetables, that a tourist bus left Kirkwall each day. Because we have our concessionary tickets we could travel for free. Next morning we bought a meal deal from the local Tesco and caught the T11 with other tourists, including some from the visiting cruise ship.  The bus was chilly, and there was no commentary but I wasn’t complaining. It took us past ScapaFlow, where the German’s scuttled their fleet in WWI; through Orphir, the home of the Orkneyinga Saga and onto Skara Brae where we had an hour and a half to visit. Skara Brae is an ancient Neolithic settlement that was uncovered by a storm in 1850. It is fascinating to see how the people lived five thousand years ago. The site is by the sea and very exposed so we didn’t linger and like most of the others on the tour, returned to the bus before our allotted time. The next stop was the Ring of Brodgar, a Neolithic henge and stone circle. Here we had half and hour to walk around which was perfect for seeing this impressive site and to take photos. The bus returned to Kirkwall early afternoon.

An early dinner in the Bothy Bar was needed before we made our way to St Magnus Cathedral for our first concert of the festival.

More about Orkney and the festival in part two. 

New Year, New Hope

Too much work, so much hassle just before Christmas meant that I was desperate to get away after the family commitments had been dealt with.  We packed up Bessie with leftover Christmas cake, cheese and biscuits and of course those gallons of extra cream that occur at this time of year. At least I'd made a batch of home made muesli as a feeble attempt to get back to some form of healthy eating. Normally I take lots of outdoor gear but I'm injured so instead I filled a bag full of toys; whistles, knitting, two paperbacks and my latest, a small Zoom recorder. We set the controls for Dumfries and Galloway.

Our first stop was Glencaple where the community actively encourage campervans to stay on the quay by the river Nith. There are public toilets in the adjoining car park as well as a water tap. At the quay is a sign showing where five vans can easily park and a small honesty box should you wish to leave a donation. This scheme pays off because the excellent Nith Hotel was open for meals and we were more than happy to forgo yet another meal of cheesy pasta for a good steak and a bottle of finest Chianti.

Glencaple and the river Nith

The weather had been settled since Christmas and looked set to continue as next day we drove the few miles south to Caerlaverlock Castle and Wetland Centre. Again the community had provided an area for campervan parking at the Corner Campsite, this time with the addition of a chemical toilet disposal.

Welcome Here!

Caerlaverock sits on a estuary and the tidal mudflats provides food for a thousands of migrating seabirds that visit here from the Arctic Circle each year.


We laced up our our boots and tramped through the grounds. I took my recorder hoping for some bird calls but all I managed to capture was the sound of my boots squelching along the muddy path. At a hide we stopped for a picnic and spotted a lesser white egret among the barnacle geese. and then a curlew entered the mix and we felt like real birdwatchers despite our pathetic binoculars. I ventured back out at dusk for another attempt at recording but a nearby car park seemed to be a haunt for local (and noisy) boy racers so I gave up.




I love Dumfries and Galloway. I have been many times before but never to the Mull of Galloway which is the most southerly point in Scotland. On this trip I was determined to get there. Why there? I suspect it is because 2019 is set to be a rough time in the UK. We are due to leave Europe which will definitely be cause for another call for Scottish Independence.  I wanted to be where I'd feel closest to Scotland, England and Ireland.

The sun sets on 2018

 The scenery in this area is spectacular. The sun was shining and as we reached the lighthouse at the end of the road the dying sun was sparking on the sea.  The Mull of of Galloway lighthouse was built by the Stevenson family and became operational in 1830. It is 26 metres high but because it sits on a cliff it stands 99 metres above sea level. It was automated in 1988. There is a good size car park which is fairly flat. Although the wind was howling in from the north west we parked up for the night. Earlier in the night I saw lights from the Isle of Man and from Ireland (possibly Belfast) but at the midnight the sky became overcast and the only New Year fireworks I saw came from the surrounding Galloway homes. I will try to remain optimistic for 2019 but at midnight I admit to feeling rather sad.

Mull of Galloway Lighthouse

Dark Sky Park - It was very dark!

Another gem in Dumfries and Galloway is the Dark Sky Park, an area of land surrounded by forest with low light pollution so perfect for seeing the stars. A clear sky was forecast on the 1st of January so we headed for a good spot. We were not disappointing. Wrapped up against the biting cold I stood outside the van  staring into the skies. It was possible to see the Milky Way as a backdrop to bright constellations and my heart filled with joy. My camera was not up to the task of recording this wondrous event so, while I cooked more cheesy pasta, Colin headed out to capture the night sky.


Before we left this fabulous area there was one last thing I wanted to do - attend and play in a traditional music pub session.

Through playing traditional music we have made friends all over the country and some live in D & G. We drove a short distance from the park to our friend Wendy's small holding. She fed us delicious food before taking us to a session in a cosy pub, The Clachan in St John's Town of Dalry. Most of the regulars played Irish tunes, of which I know only a few, but I did manage to play along to a couple of tunes.

Traditional music session in The Clachan

Dumfries and Galloway has something for everyone. If I had not been injured I would definitely have climbed some of the fine hills there. But despite not hill walking we managed to fill five days with different activities. But best of all, unlike other parts of the UK, Dumfries and Galloway made us welcome as campervan owners. That makes a difference and I will definitely be back there soon.

Cool Camping and Cycling

I am going to start this blog with the book review. A couple of weeks ago I read The Living Mountain by Nan Shepherd, a wilderness and travel book about the Cairngorm Mountain range.

The beauty of this book, apart from the wonderful language used by Shepherd, is the fact that the book was written in 1944, not published until 1977 and yet it is still relevant today. As a keen walker Shepherd tramped these hills and absorbed their essence. I have been in the Cairngorms many times but after reading The Living Mountain I yearned to go back, I felt I had not given them the attention they deserved. So with this in mind we set off up the A9 one Friday night heading for Rothiemurchus.



 One of the optional extra we had fitted to Bessie was a bike rack and up until now it had never been tested. The Cairngorms are perfect for biking so what’s stopping us.

 Rothiemurchus campsite is just two miles outside Aviemore. I phone ahead and booked a pitch and was glad I did because we got the last one and they were turning vans away at the gate. The site is set in the old Caledonian pine forest with pitches located in nooks and crannies giving the impression of exclusivity to the woods. The park felt secure with kids cycling their bikes round the one way system and a burn gurgling over a small rise just by our pitch. The toilets and showers, accessed by key fob, were in pristine condition. In the morning as we ate breakfast al fresco, the site owner offered us another, better pitch; he had an early leaver, but we were settled and decided to stay put. We set off mid-morning, cycling the track from the campsite. Not far from the site the track splits. The left fork leads to Lairig Ghru and the right through Glen Einich to Loch Einich. We chose the path to the right.

my abandoned bike

 Colin had downloaded a geocaching app to his phone to try and we had fun finding a cache before we even got beyond shouting distance from the camp site (more about geocaching in later posts).

The track through the forest was well made. I felt exhilarated as I always do when amongst the ancient Scots pine, and a little sad at the thought that once this land was covered in this forest and now there are only a few patches scattered over the Highlands. As we left the trees behind the track grew rougher and my sightseeing was over as I wobbled, skitted and watched for every bump, stone, rubble and root to avoid. I’m a rubbish cyclist and helmetless so we ditched the bikes and walked at a relaxed pace. My wimp-out decision was vindicated when round the next bend we witnessed a young girl fly off her bike onto the rubble, she was OK but her bloody knees and arms needed attending to.

One of the river crossings

 The track led into a basin where bulking hill rose out of the loch at the base. At a river crossing we met three cyclists with skis strapped to their backs. They pointed to the west face of Braeriach, to three small tongues of snow on an otherwise bare hillside. ‘Tom, Dick and Harry,’ one skier explained. ‘Great spring snow, you’ll see our track on Harry and the jump I made.’ He was so happy he didn’t seem to mind his bike skidding and adding a paddle to his day’s activities.


At the loch side as we ate our picnic of dragon’s eggs and homemade Flapjack I tried to imagine Nan enjoying the same scene, the same tranquillity all those years ago. There was no pollution here, no wind turbines and no ski tows. Earlier we detected a geocache somewhere in the area, but had no telephone reception to find it! Yellow algae swilled at the shore side, flowers sprouted through the pebbles. My latest addition to the van was a Collins Flower Book, I took photos and later identified the species back at the van as, Dog violet, Lady’s Mantel and Colt’s Foot.  It was hard to believe that just over the mountain was the ski centre.

The walk back revealed the full expanse of the Rothiemurchus forest and I was happy to know I would be safe under its canopy for another night.


The soundtrack for this trip was the movie soundtrack for O Brother Where Art Thou. I could lie and say I chose this because it is the story of three men's bid for freedom and the Cairngorms is the place where I feel free. But the truth is I pick the CD up for £3 from the supermarket when I stocked up for the trip. And what a find it is. As well as the famous theme I Am a Man of Constant Sorrow, there are old folk classic like Big Rock Candy Mountain and You Are My Sunshine with crystal clear performances from among others Gillian Welch, Alison Krauss, Emmylou and The Fairfield Four.
It might not have much to do with Rothiemurchus but its foot tapping rollocks will always remind me of this trip.

Loch Einich

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.

Sleeping in the heart of a volcano

A volcano?  It sounds bizarre but that is exactly what we did.  The fact the volcano erupted fifty five millions years ago doesn't detract from the glamour.

This all took place last weekend when we drove Bessie to Ardnamurchan in the West Highlands of Scotland. Although Ardnamurchan is a peninsula, the five minute Corran Ferry crossing saves an hour drive and gives the trip a real 'getting away from it all' feel. We have made this crossing many times but this was the first with a van and we only just squeezed in behind a huge lumber truck.   The peninsula is ribboned with mostly single track roads but we reckoned if the truck can do it so can we.

Corran Ferry - Bessie's first ferry crossing

Our first night was spent at Far View Campsite in Kilchoan, a motor-home specific site that had all we needed for a stopover. The owners keep an impressive garden and sell honey and herbs. It is situated in walking distance from the pier where a regular Mull ferry and trips to Staffa leave daily, so it would be an ideal base to leave the van and take a day trip to the islands.

The Ardnamurchan Lighthouse is reported to be the most westerly point on the British mainland, but Corrachadh Mòr, a wee tip of land a kilometre south of the lighthouse, should hold this title. Never the less a visit to this Stevenson lighthouse is a must.  The climb up the stairs of the thirty six metre tower is not too hard and rewarded with amazing views to the islands on gfood days.

From there we drove through the Ring of Ardnamurchan (the volcano crater!) to the small crofting community of Sanna.  There large sandy beach is littered with lava rocks and an abundance of cockles. The now rare sound of a skylark heralded our walk. Along with other walkers on the beach I craned my neck to spot and there it was, a speck, way up in the sky, warning us off with its distinctive chirup.

Sanna is an idyllic spot on this remote west coast, but life has been a struggle for the crofters there.  The excellent lyrical memoir Night Falls on Ardnamurchan by poet, Alistair Maclean laments the decline of Sanna's crofting community and is worth reading if planning a trip to the area. Because if the precious nature of the crofting land here we were forbidden to park the van overnight, so we headed back into the crater.

Wild Salmon and squeaky cheese kebabs

 We found a perfect flat piece of land just off the small road, put a couple of blocks under two wheels and set about preparing our first Bessie barbie.   Upon leaving Kilchoan I popped into the well-stocked village store and bought a couple of pieces of wild salmon to go with squeaky cheese and veggie kebabs. Colin had our spanking new Blue Mountain folding BBQ smoking in no time and then stumbled on a wee pile of wood, just perfect for a camp fire.  

Smoking in the crater

As the sun set behind the western ridge of the ring and a golden hue burnished the van, it felt as if we really were inside a volcano.  

The night was empty of animal and bird sounds.  Only the disturbance of a car passing on the road about four am broke the impression of total isolation.

The next day broke warm and sunny.  We donned our running shoes and ran a trail over a hill track, past a ruined hamlet of Glendrian until we reached the trail end in a remote pebble cove northeast of Sanna.  The first and last parts of the trail were good drove roads but a bog trot in the middle soaked our feet. I guess this route was once used by the crofter of Glendrian to take cattle and sheep to boats, but sadly this pastime has long ago fallen into history.

Maybe the dry sunny weather contributed to the enjoyment of this trip, but I suspect in all weathers Ardnamurchan will remain a special place.

The sound track for our trip was unintentionally in keeping with the remote, mountain and island theme.  The recently acquired Fred Morrison CD Outlands is a blend of whistle, Highland, Uilleann and Reel pipes accompanied by banjo, mandolin and bodhran to create a rollicking blend of Scots Trad with an Appalachian feel.  Yea hah.  

 Eigg and  Muck with Rhum in the background