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Our last full day on Mull was set to be yet another full of unexpected adventures. Although the rain was drizzling down and the chill wind still cut you to the bone, we all set off in high spirits for a big day.
We were to do a west coast tour, and drove the now almost familiar route past serene lochs and fields of highland cattle and very woolly sheep. Up the road a way, we stopped to indulge Karens' love of plants at Lucy's Garden. This is set on quite a steep sloping site, with a little burn (stream) tumbling down the left side. Lucy opens her private garden to visitors with entry donations going to charity, and also has plants for sale. She spends most of her days either in the garden or out beachcombing for interesting and quirky items to add to her sculptures and garden ornamentation. There are paths paved in patterns of broken pottery and round pebbles, garden edges made of rows of rusted shovels or pitchforks, a fence made of metal bedheads. Plants are growing in every type of container from old saucepans to kitchen chairs. There is a bridge over the little stream, and lots of euphorbias, buddleias, bulbs, camellias and even a magnolia or two. Huge black and yellow striped bumblebees buzzed in the flowering plants, but did not stay put long enough for Karen to get a photo in focus, although this was not for lack of trying! Small native birds were busy looking for bugs and seeds in the garden beds. Most interesting was a prostrate willow, leafless tangled branches lying low to the ground resembling a bundle of rope carelessly tossed down.
Karen spend a very happy hour and a half here, wandering around and coming up with inspiration for all those bits and pieces in the shed back home. Of course, heaps of pictures were taken to help jog her memory on her return, but sadly, they seem to have been deleted from her camera! So the only pictures are those still in her head……
Reluctant as she was to leave, the others were ready for the next leg of the trip, and emphasised the distances still to travel that day. The sun had made its appearance, and the views from the lofty heights we travelled between the hills were quite amazing.
Lunch (late as usual) was a picnic on the white sands of Calgary Bay (after which Calgary in Canada is named). There is a lovely wide undulating swathe of green grass and low growing flowering plants covering what would in Australia more commonly be small sandhills. This is a Machair, and the one on the west coast of Iona is used as a golf course. Shorebirds and native ducks and geese keep it close-cropped, helped generously by many generations of rabbits by the numbers of burrows in evidence.
Then off to a nearby art gallery and tea room for a warming cup of coffee and cake. The sun was really shining down now, and we happily sat outdoors, glad to be free of the biting wind for a change and remove some layers of clothing.
Then to our next stop - Langermull. Most definitely Nickys top attraction on the whole Island. Her mum, Anne, until recently lived in a croft house just up the valley at Frachadil, so this was the home beach. The drivable road stopped at the top of a rough forest track, and unfortunately Matt had an unexpected close up view of the stones, when his shoelaces got tangled up and he fell flat on his face! Luckily the worst damage was to his pride, but his knee was closely examined over the next few days just to be sure.
A farmer appeared from a barn as we walked through the field next to his crofters' house, and Nicky went over to say "Hi" to an old neighbour. After waiting in gathering impatience, Paul went to rescue Nicky, so sent us Aussies on ahead with simple instructions to follow the path down across the last few fields to the beach. This was easily achieved, and we spent quite a while alone, exploring - jumping the stream, clambering on the tall black rocks which separate the beach almost in two, and investigating rock pools.
So long alone, in fact, that the boys and Karen began to wonder if this was the right beach afterall, or if the Scottish cousins had simply got tired of our company and had snuck back to the car and driven away, abandoning us to our fate…. Stocktaking our situation, we only had 2 half bottles of water and a single cough drop between us, as Paul had nicely offered to carry all the beach snacks in his backpack. Our suspicions were duly aroused!
Finally, though, they appeared, and - in opposition to our gathering mistrust - relieved to be back in our company it seems, as they had been "threatened" with cups of tea and a tour of the farmhouse and beyond. Lucky escapes for us all.
After yet another lovely beach visit, the inevitable paddle by Nicky in the sea, and the now usual requirement for a beach toilet spot, we reluctantly left this gorgeous spot on this gorgeous island and made our way home in the gathering darkness.
As we climbed the high pass back through the hills near Ben More, the sun was setting, and we stopped to watch it sink below the horizon, painting the sea and land in delightful shades of orange and pink and purple. Just at the last minute, when we were all called back to the car as we really truly had to leave and get home for tea, a rare white tailed eagle took off from its lofty perch above us and flew into the sunset. A fitting end to a delightful holiday adventure.
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