Torridon
We continued our adventures around Kishorn and Torridon with a leisurely drive from former to latter, through quite changeable weather. Before we left, we were treated to a close encounter with one of the local stags, stopping in the garden for his breakfast between showers.
The variable weather is one of the wonderful things about the western squiggly bits of Scotland. On the road, the wind was strong enough to keep the midgies away during the fairly brief moments we stepped out of the car to capture some of the scenery.
Torridon happened to be a convenient place to meet old friends for lunch to renew friendship, and swap getting-older stories, dreams and Netflix must-sees.
Torridon itself is nothing less than gorgeous, even in the pouring rain that dominated the afternoon as we meandered back to our lodgings, stopping briefly at Shieldaig.
We went down to the beach nearby, stopping between Ardarroch and Achintraid to watch the light play on the loch and the hills around it.
Striped in the evening sunlight, Sgurr a’ Chaorachain towers over Loch Kishorn. This has been a theme of the short holiday; waves crossing waves, in light and physical structure. We might have gone overseas again for our second top-and-tail holiday over the summer break but, as much as we loved the trip to Bergerac, there is just no place to lose yourself in quite like Scotland.
We’re the kind of people who love to find a bookshelf (or better still – a library) in the accommodation we rent on our adventures. Kara found this book in the cabin on the first day, which contains stories of each month on a croft. It was published in 1952. Each chapter also includes a poem, and a photograph by Wm. S. Thomson.
The author of the book, Wendy Wood, was a founder of the party that became the Scottish National Party, and a well-known activist for Scottish independence. You might know her better as Aunty Gwen from Jackanory. The stories about life on a croft during the second world war are quaint, almost other-worldly, far removed from the brutality of the war in Europe. This is precisely her point, I suppose. I read a chapter aloud each night, along with the poem that went with it, and we both really enjoyed the imagery created in the words, evocative of a simpler, more peaceful way of living.
We took our time getting ready for the journey home, dropping in first at the Bealach Cafe and Gallery to grab a coffee and look at some of the local work shown and sold there. I was particularly struck by a couple of ink pieces by Lisa Fenton and some stunning Turneresque seascapes by the gifted owner of the café, Sharon Clark. I just love the quality of light in her paintings of sea, sky and sunlight, so clearly inspired by local scenery.
Having done a bit of research before we left the cabin at Kishorn, we found a first edition of Wendy Wood’s book for sale at Leakey’s Bookshop in Inverness. We had to stop on the journey home to claim it for our own bookshelf.
The obligatory stop at the House of Bruar to pick up some gifts also provided the opportunity to snap another favourite image, Boris O’Klein‘s cartoon of dogs queuing at a Parisian lamp-post, Chacun son tour, which is situated above the mens’ urinals. They were unusually quiet today, so I felt able to whip out a camera and take a quick snap.
It all seems such a long time ago now. Holidays are good when they’re like that.