last few days of our trip to Kintre in Argylleshire

 

Day16

Pack up again, take a last walk round the town of Lochgilphead and buy a few odds and sods from the local coop, check out a few of the shops and then it’s a slow steady journey along the side of Loch Fyne until we reach Tarbert. We had been up at seven as it was one of our fast days and we need a twelve hour gap between breakfast and dinner to enable the fast to work. So we park up and have a stroll round the port. Fishing boats have just arrived and are disgorging their catch of crayfish onto the quay. The box’s are quickly packed in the lorries and they are on the road in minutes all the way to Spain. Bizarre.

After a quick chat with one of the fisherman, we soon ascertain that there is a place at the ferry port that sells most of the excess.  We find the premises, a stone building stuffed to the gunnels with feeder tanks. These are packed with all manner of shellfish and molluscs, and his cold rooms are full of the local catch. The Scallops are enormous, the size of a breakfast plate, the shell, not the contents. One of his lads was sat outside cleaning up the mussels and oysters. What a delight, and not enormously expensive. £10 for half a kilo of scallops, £3 four a kilo of mussels.

The town seems to have a really good selection of seafood restaurants, although, more investigation is required before choosing which one we may try in the future.

Walked up and around the castle, then up further into the hills. Higher and higher, through the heather covered hills , with craggy outcrops, the odd boggy area and the Scots pine. A glorious circular walk with many picturesque views of Loch Fyne and the mainland to the East. In fact towards Innellan.

This part of Scotland has really strong links with its Viking heritage. They must have been hardy, as they used to haul their boats, dam great wooden longboats across the land bridge between the the loch and the Atlantic to save on sailing the extra 100 miles round the point and through the treacherous tidal races.

Then to Glenbarr on the West coast of Kintyre, a camp site that is virtually on the sands, no hard standings, just grass on the edge of the cliffs overlooking the sea. Fantastic location, wonderful sunsets, but otherwise there is nothing else to do in the area. We walk along the sand and rocks, beach combing. Its full of jetsam and flotsam along with quite a few dead things, mainly oil covered birds but the odd sheep washed up onto the rocks. Even so, that is only in one certain area that seems to collect all the debris, the majority of the area is pure white and clean with giant waves smashing onto the beach. Cold waters originating from Newfoundland, great for the surfers who have warm blood or layers of rubber to protect them from the bitterly cold winds.

From here you can easily see Islay and the Paps of Jura, and on a clear day the smoke floating out of the Irish homes. Its only about 20 miles away, with the result that we pick up Ulster TV and Irish radio when we try to tune the TV in.

After a pleasant although rocking windy night we head further south.

west coast with a strong wind blowing out to sea

gorgeous sunset with the sun hiding behind Islay

port of Tarbet

local fishing boat bringing the catch into harbour before being loaded on a lorry heading to Spain

Tarbet Castle

A warm day to be climbing up into the hills

Surfing waves off Glenbarr

Day 17^th

Onto Campbeltown and park up, walk round the working harbour, wide expansive street, big houses, plenty of greenery, odd hotel and restaurant and three distilleries, although it used to boast 34. The we drive out to look at the Island of Davarr. You can manage to walk out to it via a causeway and get round the base under the massive cliffs as long as you hit the low tide.  There is a wall painting in one of the caves only accessible at low water of Christ on the Cross. But we are here t the wrong time, so we will have to come out on another day. Instead we manage to find a place that overlooks the loch and make our lunch and relax whilst basking in the sun with magnificent views of the islands, mainland to the east and a plethora of wild birds.

Then its back into town to walk round and see what’s on offer, but this is swiftly curtailed by a spell of black sky’s and rain that is horizontal. Instead, we jump back into the van and head out to the next camp site in Machrihanish, next to the golf course on the West coast, 30 minutes drive from Campbelltown. The area is a rich blend of lush green pastures, moors, forest of Scots pine, hedgerows of colourful Rhododendrons and Azaleas and dairy cattle. Supposedly the area is famed for its full fat milk and from the look of it dairy farming is one of the biggest earners, yet you don’t seem to see a great deal of its by products for sale.

Park up in a position that gives us a sea view, and check out the facilities, which are good, spotlessly clean. Then it was time to get stuck into the wine and relax. It was too horrendous to do anything else, well that’s my excuse.

The van on the edge of the sands looking out to the Americas

Beach combing along the sands and rock pools

Oyster catcher and friend

View of the Island Davarr from Campbeltown

The dilapidated ruins of the Kiel Hotel down at the southernmost point of Kintyre

St Columba's chapel, now in ruins

His foot print, possibly, possibly not.

The beach that leads out to the famous Mull of Kintyre

The burn as it enters the sea by our camp site in Machrihanish

Day 18

The forecast for the morning is rain, surprise, surprise. Initially we had agreed to go to the local distillery on one of their tasting if the weather was bad.  As the evening had been rock and rolling, Judith stayed in bed to catch up, so we didn’t get out until after lunch. Visited the Whisky shop, called Cadenhead to obtain our tickets, after which we headed out to the Distillery just 50 metres down the road.

The lad who showed the group around was excellent, very informative. More importantly, it was different to many of the distilleries we have visited previously, as they do everything on site. From the manufacturing to the bottling including the malting of their own barley, using the three old floors, with the crew turning it over on a regular basis by hand. Perhaps too much information. The end results is a selection of three single malts, all with slightly different tastes. Mine being the Longrow with a peaty after taste. Just as l like it. There biggest cost these days is that of sherry barrels. They told us that people are not buying sherry anymore, so they pay them to produce sherry and then get them to throw it away, just so they can have the flavoured casks. Can you imagine the Portuguese doing that. I’l coco.

After the tour we head back to the shop for our tasting plus a gift of a miniature of Springbank single malt. It was then that we managed to extract more information from the staff about prices, flavours etc. We had visited the day before to try and get some background on the tour and the malts. It had been like trying to extract blood from a stone. Yet today, we seemed to press the right buttons. 
 It seems that the Whisky Shop has its own tasting Rooms, they also buy single cask and cask strength specialist whisky including rare, old and exclusive single malt and rums. I mention this because Judith hates scotch, but she loves rum. So she managed to taste the cask rum, and ended up having a 200ml bottle filled with the 65% proof stuff. I went for the cask Isle malt at 59% proof. They have literally hundreds of malts of various age and strength, most starting at £45 and ending up in the £1000. For one bottle.

They even have classes where people stay and work in the distillery and pay handsomely for the privilege, albeit with a course to take you through the whole process. She told us that this is often booked up a year in advance from people from all over the globe. The basic course costs £1000. You really need to like your malts. Or then again, you may want to start your own micro distillery.

Then it was off to the southernmost tip of Argyllshire, named Southend. Didn’t have a pier, but it did have some strange buildings, an art deco hotel that looked boarded up, 2nd century Christian ruins and glorious beeches. Along with the usual pebbledash bungalow with shi-y brown paintwork and similar coloured curtains with a flash of orange and the ubiquitous barking dog.

Walked up to the grave yard that overlooked the ruined chapel, fountain and the foot print cut in stone of the Irish poet and monk, St Columba. This was also the historical point where a uprising was ended with bloody consequences. 300 captured soldiers, mainly MacDonalds and MacDougalls, were killed by the royalists. Their bodies were later interred in a mass grave in a field just to the south of the village of Southend.

Enough of the history. Into the van and back home along the single track road trough more dairy farms and the odd village to the campsite.

Whilst Judith organised tea and opened another bottle of wine, l walked down to the golf course and onto the beach. As per normal, the wind was blowing up a gale, but the views were once again magnificent. Continued along the pure white sand until l reached the small river, in fact more a burn. At this point l traced it back across the golf course, duly taking heed to watch out for loose flying balls. Noticed there where a few relatively deep pools which could hold sea trout, that is if they were running.

When l got back, eventually met the campsite owner and settled our dues. He explained that the burn was free to campers and there could be sea trout.

Day 19

Up at 6am and of with my spinner. Didn’t bring my fly rods, as l thought it was too early. Even at 6am there were people around on the golf course. Mainly staff getting into their mowers. Spent a couple of hours enjoying the birds and the views, but couldn’t find ant sea trout. Realistically, should have come out at high tide in the dark.

Back for breakfast. And its sunny. I mention this, because it does improve ones spirits.

Off we head, this time to the Island of Davaar in the mouth of Campbeltown. Park next to the causeway, which is just starting to be uncovered from the ravages of the sea. Its only 4.5 miles, but initially its on shingle after which it turns to stones and then to damn great boulders that you have to climb over. We pass many caves, but eventually we reach the one that holds the portrait of Christ on the cross. To be honest l was not expecting much. But as you will see from the photographs, it’s quite remarkable.

The cliff face looms over us and crevices are filled with all manner of greenery and the odd bluebell. The guidebook says you walk round till the cliff face ends and there is a small path up to the lighthouse. After the cave the large stones suddenly change to large boulders and big chunks of cliff, which you don’t step over, you climb over them. This continues for what seems like a lifetime. Judith keeps questioning if we have missed the path. Why is it that wives always question their husbands? They listen to a stranger who they meet for the first time.

Anyway, we continue and eventually find the path up to the lighthouse. And a glorious seat just right for our lunch, with views over to the east of Loch Fyne, a comfortable seat and the warmth of the sun on our backs.

On the way down and across the flats that are now free of water, we see groups who are collecting their supper, clams by the bucket load.

We have a final drive into Campbeltown and then back to Machrihanish were we walk down to Earadale point and see the seals basking lazily in the sun, with the sound of the oyster catchers screeching in the background. Pop into the local pub and the hotel to check out the menu for our next visit. Both seem interesting and worthy of a visit.

Over the golf course to the sands, five miles of them, but we cut short and head back to the campsite for dinner.

couple of sleepy seals and the prerequisite oyster catcher

He did have the energy to lift his head when the waves came in

Starting the long walk out to the island

Getting a little closer to the Island of Davarr

the wall painting in the cave on the island of Davarr

the rock formations of the cliff seem to change colour as we circumnavigate the island

certain sections are still under water

The sea has retreated completely, leaving a mud flat teaming with molluscs for the picking

popular with the clam hunters

Day 20

Up early, pack up and head off. We take a leisurely drive east to Campbeltown, then along the west coast hugging the beach to Tarbert. Here we park up and walk down to the ferry, or more precisely to the stone building that houses the fresh fish and seafood wholesaler. Leaving with half a kilo of giant fresh scallops and a kilo of mussels, all cleaned and ready to cook. Into the fridge and off again, this time up to lochgilphead and then Inveraray, cross the bridge at the castle and along the loch to the restaurant and shops at Loch Fyne Oysters. What a pity it was a fasting day, so all we could do was look, smell absorbed and make a booking for a later date. Then home to Innellan.

The van gets emptied, yet we still have to go in and spring clean it ready for mothballing until our next trip.

Day21

Sun is up again, but the excitement to look forward to is lunch and dinner.Fresh mussels and giant sautéed scallops. What more can l say, you cant smell them, or taste the freshness and the delicate tenderness as the scallops melt in your mouth. An experience to be repeated. The holiday is now complete.