On and on and on... -- three weeks later! (part one)

Very large camomile flowers adorning the ground above Fingal's Cave on Staffa.( © MPJ, July 13, 2008)

Hiya everyone!
Time just flies. I hope all's well with everyone and look forward to hearing from you -- either by your leaving a comment on this blog or by sending me an e-mail. :)

I've been very, very busy working -- and entertaining my dear friend T. from Switzerland for five days, which was lovely and made a wonderful change. Just a week ago we took a tour from Oban -- lying lazy and sleepy in the early morning light --

… on foot, by ferry, …

A detail from the Isle of Mull, one of the two ferries that make the regular trips between Oban on the mainland and Craignure on Mull.

... by bus, boat, on foot, ferry, bus, ferry and again on foot -- that took us to Mull, Staffa and Iona. The weather was the usual Scottish mixed bag, but fine for most of the day.

On the voyage from Oban to Craignure (on Mull) a black-backed gull accompanied
us most of the way, simply hovering on an upstream probably generated by the boat.
He was quite a cheeky fellow, occasionally dipping and diving close by our heads.Actually, we enjoyed the trip, sharing cameras with fellow travellers and marvelling at the many different nationalities on board.A physicist would be able to explain to me, I'm sure, just what it is that causes these fascinating wave patterns in the ferry's wake. I was most intrigued.

Staffa was bathed in glorious sunshine (most of the time, anyway), ...

Approaching Staffa; Fingal's Cave is the gaping oval-shaped darkness to the right of the two
whitish striations of guano left, probably, by nesting black guillemots.
Here's one of them, fluttering back to the nest in the cliffs below me.

Staffa: a glimpse of Boat Cave, to the "left" (or west) of Fingal's Cave. I'd love to be able to
explore in the company of just a small party, and perhaps take a kayak into the caves.
Last Sunday conditions would have been near perfect -- very calm sea.

This must be my very favourite formation – the small island(s) of The Herdsman or Am Buachaille, to the east of Staffa, with the narrow channel through which on a rougher day the sea comes rushing in great white breakers
(see one of my very first posts for those photos -- just type "Staffa" into the search thingy at top left on this blog and you should soon find them.

According to a note in a leaflet, no sheep have grazed on Staffa for a couple of years,
which allows the tall grasses and wildflowers to bloom in great profusion (it will also, probably, allow some of the more annoying
weeds to flourish that have been kept in check so far). Anyway, never having visited Staffa in the summer, I was awe-struck with the
colours -- the yellow of buttercups, the white of very big camomile, the pink of the flowering grass, and
perhaps a kind of campion or other. By the way, on the horizon: Iona.
While everyone else rushed to Fingal's Cave, my friend and I (and a handful of others) climbed the steep
aluminium steps to the top of the small island. I took myself off to the south face, to see what I would
find there. And I gathered all my courage to crawl to the very edge of the cliffs and have a look down. Worth it, don't you think? This
must be Boat Cave, as Fingal's Cave has a base of broken-off basalt columns at either side of the entrance.
But yes, at last: this is THE cave, one of the Seven Wonders of the World, I shouldn't be surprised. The colours are stunning, even more so on a wettish day, when the water brings them out more. And a calm day really does not do justice to the musical qualities of this cave, which resounds with booms and ululations caused by the wind being pushed through the very thin cracks between the columns, and by the surf crashing into the farthest end of the cave which reaches about eighty feet into the depth of the island. Totally impressive!

… the boat ride up from Fionnphort on Mull and back to Iona village was as smooth as you can hope for and we even managed to march across the island to the Bay at the Back of the Ocean without getting rained on. It was only when we were almost at the Martyr's Bay Café on Iona that a Scotch mist started drizzling on us -- walking in the clouds does that -- so we got a little damp.
Here we've had a very cold and wet July so far, following on to a cold, wet June. People have told me it's been one of the most dreadful summers. I've not found it unpleasant as I'm no longer so well able to cope with heat. And whenever the sun does come out, which it does at least once a day, it's lovely and warm and very summery. Also, after a very warm, dry six weeks beginning in mid-April, the wet weather has replenished the water table, flushed out a lot of gunk from the gullies, streams (which they call "burns" here) and rivers.
The wilderness at the bottom of my garden (actually just the "drying green", which is a big patch of grass that I try to keep as tidy-looking as possible by going over it with a little electric lawnmower about every two weeks) is looking wilder and wilder: a bright pink-purple-flowered stand of tall Canadian fireweed lifts itself out of nettles, brambles, chokeweed and burdock.

I know, this is not the Canadian fireweed, but a beautiful clematis that graced the not very beautiful wooden fence.

I would really like to be able to go in there to chop down some of the nastier things that are all but choking my honeysuckle and a pretty pink-flowering shrub (whose blossoming time now seems to be over, but it was glorious for weeks and weeks), but there's a wire-mesh fence separating my bit and the wilderness, and a tall wooden fence separating the wilderness and the adjacent footpath, so I've not actually dared go across lest I hurt myself -- the undergrowth looked very messy and uneven...
The Council and management of this estate have long had plans to turn the wilderness into a wildflower/bird sanctuary with a few benches. That would be very pretty indeed, especially if the burn (called the Black Lynn) was also cleaned up. Right now it is rather strewn with rusting things that people have just tossed into it, and shrubs growing into it, making it very prone to flooding.
The trash and litter everywhere is appalling. I pick up bags full every week, despite a chap coming by with his pick-up thingy and a bin on wheels. Even in our "close" (the common entrance and stairway), the kids visiting the ten-year-old upstairs simply toss their sweet wrappers and sticks and things on the floor. But most of the kids here are fine, polite and I'm slowly becoming friends with some of the wee girls in this house and the house next door.

Otherwise, I've been settling in quite nicely. The noise problem persists and I don't know how that's going to be resolved. I live in hope; sometimes I get all of three hours of sleep a night, which is not enough. And as there's quite a bit of noise during the day, it's not easy to catch up. I've been going to friends' houses to get a good night's sleep! This shouldn't be necessary and I hope the worst of my neighbours will learn to be more considerate.
There is one set of neighbours who cold-shoulder me when they're not actually actively nasty. It sounds like doors are slammed deliberately to make me jump very early in the morning or very late at night -- that kind of thing. I don't think I'm being paranoid here -- the young man downstairs tends to shout some pretty colourful obscenities through the ceiling when I make my wish for peace and quiet heard like "Mrs Meier" from Mani Matter's song...
Otherwise, I've been getting quite a lot of smiles and explicit messages telling me that my presence is appreciated and that I've been making a positive difference to the place, which is really gratifying.

All in all, Oban is a very good, friendly place to live. I like the nearness of the sea and the harbour; I like the idea that I could be in Glasgow within three hours if I wanted to; I love riding my bicycle around town …
…and into the outskirts -- there are many lovely, lovely spots I have discovered.

So it goes. With much love to you, my friend!
Until soon. Peace!

PS: Next post about the second trip with my friend, T.