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Our Summer trip to Scotland

In the summer I went with Mary and Michael up to Scotland and Northumberland. Before going I had spoken to my friends who live on Easdale Island, Argyl and it emerged that The Waterboys were going to be appearing there. I tried to make certain that we wouldn’t miss that. Also it had been a long time since I’d seen friends in the North West and my mate Billy in Inverness and I was feeling the urge to revisit those places.

We were living a beautiful dream ~ swimming in lochs, salmon rivers and mountain burns, walking around and viewing the splendour of god’s creation, cooking up dinners in places that are just supposed to be on pictures and strumming away most contentedly on my guitar, finding the song in our hearts. After working our way up through Northumberland, the Borders, Edinburgh and Rob Roy country we arrived in Connel, Argyl at good friends Steve and Trudy’s. We were mighty glad for two reasons, one being that even in paradise we had been bitten to pieces by midges which is a hard thing to ignore. The other on a more serious note was that we had just found out that my nephew Adam had had meningitis, only narrowly making it through and that there was a risk that little Michael could have it. We took him to Oban hospital the next day and luckily he didn’t but when we stepped onto the small ferry boat which takes you to lovely Easdale Island we were quite dazed.

That clearness of the blue seawater can seem to reflect good things in your own life you’d forgotten to notice and a warm feeling came over me as we crossed it. The splendid views across to neighbouring islands were just part of one thing, one place ~ a place which when you’re there you’re glad to be there. I suppose it’s better that you are once that last ferry’s gone.

We’d not long been on the island when I realized I had to go back and get something from the van. On the other side I saw the Waterboys waiting for the ferry to go on the island and Steve Wickham gave me a nod like he recognized me. I grabbed my stuff and when I got on the boat going back they were on it too. Mr Wickham was strumming a mandolin and there was an air of adventure. I think my ploy was to just sit there being shy but Mike Scott fixed me with a much seeing eye and I could feel my heart in my mouth and really did feel shy.

The concert was to be the following night and we met Stephen (Steve and Trudy’s son), Fiona and their two sons Saughley and Fergus who were kindly letting us stay in their house. They run the bar and restaurant on Easdale, are involved in many other things like music, painting and textiles and they seem to me tireless in their pursuits and are very inspired by their location.

Next day we langoured on the stony shores of the island in the hot sun and Michael was amused as we skimmed stones into the water filled old quarries. They hold a stone skimming championship here. I also lobbed one or two great big rocks in there! Several years ago everybody on the island united against an effort by a big company to build a causeway across and use these quarries as cod farms. They wanted their island to stay an island and fended off the threat of greed. I went swimming again and spoke with a woman who was thinking of moving up from Glasgow ~ the temptation seemed to be gnawing at her. In the pub there was a music session and there were faces from the past and plenty to tap your foot and sing about. Through music Stephen and I recalled times of when we were The Nippie Sweeties.

Evening came, those who were too young were left with Trudy, and excitement was at a high as we walked over the green to the old village hall where people had congregated from near and far. A hell of a lot of work was put into bringing the hall into its grand state not so long ago and the purpose of this concert was to provide funds for a new electric piano to make it complete, so this was a benefit gig. However a fine electric piano was borrowed for the night. There was a support act who gave it everything and sang beautifully.

They came on with great purpose and cast out with ‘Bring ‘em All In’. I can’t ever remember feeling such excitement at a concert as Mike Scott started singing and I would even say that fate itself seemed in their hands as the chords were hammered with deliberation into crescendos that were frightening. Mary looked at me with the same awe that I was feeling. Then as one they would transcend into pure gentleness… Words tore through me with their reason ~ the music carrying everything along with the transport of its meaning, carrying me somewhere I’d never been yet that was still somehow familiar. I wasn’t ready for this but too late, I was swept along. Still Mary was with me holding my hand... That man’s guitar and whole body never once faltered from the beat as his voice resonated with tones that made the emotions alive. He energetically used the stage as a stage, and would be at the microphone as quick as instinct delivering lines like a thespian with great poise as magical fiddler Steve Wickham and incredible pianist Richard Naiff’s total submission to the music was glorious and there for all to see. What a spectacle!

We were all made welcome on the Waterboys’ ‘Strange Boat’ which took us on a spiritual journey of feeling and brought together thoughts of different minds with a clear focus even if just for those moments ~ moments which live on in my memory… They performed ‘Sweet Thing’ and Mike Scott said they’d borrowed it a while ago off Van Morrison and that he wasn’t having it back now. I found that reasonable… He said that the hall was reminiscent of Universal Hall at Findhorn and that it was a good hall. He sang his song Universal Hall which perhaps spoke of his own struggle to bring truth and enlightenment to his art and everyone was captured in its’ immediacy. A gateway was opened that night to a world where inner emotions are free and we start to learn to accept our own and each others. Visits to that place must be capitalized on so that our everyday world can be free.

As the concert went on the sense of enjoyment grew. Local Waterboy Colin Blakey was welcomed to the stage in what was a special moment and it was explained that he had given the next song its arrangement on the ‘Room to Roam’ album. He stood there brandishing his flute and reminding me a bit of Stan Laurel as Mr. Scott playfully reminisced. The song was ‘A Man Is in Love’ which I’ve always found moving and I was immediately choked. It really was too much for me and I didn’t know what to do. But wait ~ suddenly I knew ~ ask Mary to marry me. I had avoided this like a true scholar up to this point but suddenly I don’t know why but I had to and it wasn’t easy to ask. Especially with all the noise - the crowd were really enjoying this one. I was well in tears already but needed the courage and when it came and the words ‘will you marry me Mary’ came out they were not very loud. Mary said something I couldn’t hear and was smiling so beautifully and gave me kisses, kisses and more kisses her every movement saying ‘I love you’ and the crowd started cheering. It was like being in a film. When it was a bit quieter she said ‘what were you saying’ (I still had a chance to get out of it!). I told her and she said yes but I think she already had said yes in the best way.

The concert came to an end with the band reaching a unanimous decision that they liked Easdale and that they’d definitely enjoyed themselves, which is good to know and Mike said that he hoped that they got their piano. I hope they did.

After the concert there was much talking in the foyer and I told one or two friends while Mary told just everybody the news. Then the band came through and they were not spared the knowledge. Steve Wickham asked us in an inquisitive way why we wanted to get married and I couldn’t really find the words to tell him, also he had recognized me from a session in Sligo. I was collared by Mary as she was telling Mike Scott. I explained to him what happened and also that the experience of listening to Waterboys album ‘This is the Sea’ had changed my life. He listened thoughtfully and then said ‘glad to be of service’, which I found funny. I couldn’t really tell him though what his music has done through the years for me in my life, it’s just too big a thing…

There was a vibrant session in the pub after. Fiddles, pipes (Border and Galician), guitars, songs, drink and smoke. The latter of those got too much for me and I got asthma and had to leave. However, I want the last sentence I write about the night to be a positive one. It was tremendous.

After a couple of days it was time to go but just before leaving the island we met a couple who turned up at Stephen and Fiona’s, I think the fellow’s name was Duncan. Stephen told me that he was a great guitarist and a great guy. They were waiting for the ferry with us as we were returning from the island. I told him of our plans. We were going towards Inverness and I had planned to go to Applecross on the North West coast but I wasn’t quite sure that funds would allow… He said ‘you should go there.’ Anyway when I went to pay the ferryman it had already been paid by kind Duncan. I was touched.

When we were back in Oban, as it had already threatened, my left big toe flared up with gout. We stayed at Connel again with Steve and Trudy and that howling pain I’m well acquainted with (but which is no friend at all) made me sit down with my foot up and a pained expression on my face. It didn’t stop us enjoying the warm company of our hosts one bit though and Michael gave joy to all hearts.

We were very lucky that the gout disappeared over night and we set off in mid afternoon. As we crossed the great bridge over the mighty Falls of Lorne where the tide races in and out of Loch Etive I looked east down the loch to Ben Cruachan. I had wanted to climb that mountain, but it would have to be another time. I looked up at Ben Lara ~ much nearer and smaller. Despite all the shenanigans I had managed to make it most of the way up this hill four or five days previous on a splendid evening on the way over, but it had got too dark. I remember looking through the pine trees in the half light down to a plane of shining water and above the bay to silhouette mountains on Mull and Morvern. It’s a vision to me now lucid as the clean crisp air…

Though Benderloch and by loch Crearan we drove and I told Mary to look up the loch from the new road bridge although the cloud was jealously keeping the mountains from our gaze. I know the view well though, in many weathers. Before Stephen settled on Easdale with Fiona he lived in a caravan next to the embankment leading to the disused railway bridge and I spent a good bit of time there way before the road bridge got built. Looking out of the window at night time the light of a car would slowly wind it’s way around the loch. In the morning there were curlews in the field singing their gentle song and they must have heard our music too, possibly still going on from the night before. I remember stormy weather and one almighty storm in which Stevie went up the embankment to feel the thrill of the invisible force that could throw you to your death if you didn’t play your cards right! I was thrilled enough just being in the caravan. Easterlies were worse there as there was no shelter. They surely know what a storm is on the west of Scotland... In relatively better weather we would walk across that old bridge to the Creagan Inn and if the moon was out we were in luck but even when it was pitch black we knew how not to fall down the holes in the bridge. It was great to have a drink after that walk and to hope that the stove was still lit coming back after a baptism of the elements ~ then some tunes. Do you know what, I think I could tell you more and more about this as it’s all coming back to me and I’m realizing again just how special those times were and still are to me. We were gone past that view in a flash and up the road…

I took a small detour to Port Appin where there’s a little passenger ferry to the island of Lismor and I dropped Mary off at the village hall where there was an exhibition of art. I have a soft spot for the place because on one or two of my many walks from the caravan I ended up there and you could get a cup of tea or a pint in the bar. That was when going for a walk meant an experience that I would be likely to remember for the rest of my life. However I wasn’t soft enough to pay the prices they were charging this time, especially on our budget. Michael and I watched everybody getting onto the ferry and I wished we were going on it because Lismor is beautiful. When Mary came back she had a sheepish grin and a painting under her arm. She said it was for me and I looked at it and wasn’t sure I liked it. I struggled to not get mad because of what it cost and I nearly didn’t make it. It had just started raining so we left.

There was no point in worrying about money though, I soon thought. The van ran smoothly along the shores of Loch Linnhie on a route that I used to travel there and back twice a week and which it had seemed that I loved more each time. Past the dark and forboding Castle Stalker then along by a stony beach… A lot of places on the way I had got to know because I’d been left there while hitch hiking and I met many wonderful, warm people. I feel a kinship with that expanse of water and am still awed and yet comforted by its’ views. However, the rain was not for stopping and at some point on that road I decided we should go the distance to Applecross and Mary agreed. I think the kind gesture of Duncan had said something to me.

We stocked up at Fort William, somewhere else I lived that holds memories. Ben Nevis was, I think, still there but unfortunately hidden by cloud, although Mary believed my tour commentary. Then down the Great Glen and left at Invergarry towards Kyle of Lochalsh, travelling through mountain country to a high level where you look over to the barren beauty of Knoydart. I stopped as something had fallen off the van. It turned out it was nothing important but I stood still, looked at the view and heard the sound of peace like a bell ringing. You really could get lost round here if you set off walking. You could loose the western world with all it’s ambiguity and start looking at what things really mean in your life. There’s a thought…

We were very soon driving again but a moment can change your state of mind and the sky was brightening with a northern evening glow. There was an air of soul adventure and we talked about everything in our lives. A focal point for many of our thoughts was the concert on Easdale. The whole experience had hit us like a train and for the first time thoughts on it began to have a bit of coherence as our words shone with excitement. We still had to pinch ourselves though! We were all loving being on this journey and when we passed the Five Sisters of Kintail and reached tidal waters once more at Loch Duich there was a feeling for me a bit like having taken off and landed safely, knowing that a trembling finger of the ocean could reach into the shadows of this land and be one with all the blue ocean that I’ve ever seen.

After the road winds along the shoreline for a few miles you come upon the castle Eilean Donan which has become a kind of trademark of ancient Scottish mystery and dark intrigue, though it was rebuilt in the early twentieth century. We stopped here for a breather and Mary went to find a bit of privacy. I was just thinking what a presence there is to the place and how it must have inspired many people when there issued forth very loud and unhappy noises through the gloaming grey. Midges have simply no sense of privacy or decorum and to Mary this famous landmark will always be remembered as ‘that place where my arse was bitten.’

A mile or two short of Kyle we took the single track road to the right which winds through the hills and above the shores of Loch Carron. It was dark and by this time the only energy in the van was coming from the diesel and from my willpower to keep going. So when we got to Lochcarron village I parked in the car park to stay the night, but then I saw the sign telling us definitely not to and I thought ‘balls to it’ and set off again. After a while we got to Loch Kishorn and the foot of the Beallach na Ba which is the last bit of the journey and also the highest road in Britain. I stopped the van and started remembering one bonfires night on Winter Hill in Lancashire.

That night we had driven up the hill on a little moorland road to get a view of all the fireworks that would be shooting into the air above the nearby towns, however it was cloudy and raining and a bit eerie up there and Mary freeked out and wanted to go back. I tried to turn on a dirt track and got the van stuck. We had had to walk down through wind and scotch mist to a nearby house to ask if we could use their telephone. They didn’t immediately trust us and it was like a scene out of American Werewolf in London. Well, it was a similar kind of night but the Beallach is something very different from Winter Hill ~ about ten times worse. Even so I couldn’t let go of my mission to get to Applecross so although I’d said earlier to Mary that we wouldn’t go over that night, I now made her promise to keep any thoughts of doom to herself and set off again.

It takes a lot of trust in a vehicle to set off over the Beallach na Ba in the middle of a night like that with two of your kin. In fact, in more ways than one there was a lot of trust contained in that van as it rose into the clouds and the night. I turned the wheel of faith sharply to left and to the right and steadily took the challenge on. Mary did herself proud this time and Michael slept in blissful innocence. I got out at the top and tasted the brisk watery air. Freshness doesn’t come more fresh.

At the bottom we drove right through Applecross to Toscaig harbour where we bedded up for the night with Michael in his cot which was ingeniously made by Mary and that hung from two wooden poles. Anyway she now became the active member of our team because once the task of taking us safely to Applecross was accomplished I became a zombie.

In the van, when Michael woke up in the morning, the first thing he did was to look out of the porthole and check up on us. He always had a cheeky grin on his face, but then that’s not at all uncommon anyway! When I got out of the van I looked at the bay which points south toward Kyle. I was just thinking that no-one would want to get on our case round here… I felt a bit of an itch on my face. The cause of that itch soon put an end to such thoughts and I got back in the van quickly! We drove back the way and soon we saw the views that make Applecross so popular. When it’s clear and you look over to Skye and its’ pointed Cullin hills, Raasay and the many other smaller islands you start dreaming there and then. It is a dream. The creation of the land is as beautiful an artistic expression as there could be and nowhere can you realize that more.

We went to the pub and to my friend Joe’s house who gave us his kind hospitality. He said there’s an eating place called The Walled Garden where other friends of mine John and Elaine worked. When we got there I walked in and asked for John and the lass at the counter said he’d be coming back soon. She was looking at me a bit funny. When I said my name and I might as well have said it was Sean Connery. Well, it turned out that the establishment happened to be a bastion of Jon Brindley music listeners, an actual West Highland fan base, possibly due in part to the fact that several years before I had left quite a few CD’s behind which had gradually distributed themselves for free around the village. Distribution is a large part of the battle you know.

Everyone was working flat out at the walled garden, like most people in the village ~ making hay while the summer sun shines. There’s been a lot of good work done to make it the pleasant place it is and we ate excellent food there. We went to the Applecross Inn and it turned out to be Highland Games weekend and very busy at that. I ended up doing a gig for them that night ~ a gig with a view.

We caught up with John and Elaine and other friends and stayed in Applecross for a few nights. I played a lot at The Walled Garden, we enjoyed the games, ate like kings and we left that celestial place totally, totally knackered. We didn’t take the Beallach road on the way back ~ so Mary wouldn’t be able to see where I’d taken her! As we rode north along the lonely coast of that peninsula we knew we had met the salt of the earth and that Duncan must be onto something…

When we were amongst the Torridon Mountains I kept trying to point out amazing scenes to Mary but she could barely manage to keep one eye open. The mountains weren’t offended, I guess. We just kept driving and Inverness came nearer a lot quicker when we got off the single-track roads at Achnasheen. The next place you come to is Garve and we drove straight on through but very near there is the old people’s home where my friend Sara, who was in her forties, had spent the last years of her life unable to walk or talk with a bad strain of multiple sclerosis. As I looked over the fields to that place, I was reminded of a feeling of sadness and despair, but I know something now. She’s in a better place because she’s everywhere, in the view over the water from Applecross, in the view north from Winter Hill where I would gaze and think of her, in the woods surrounding that old people’s home where I took her so she could breath freedom, in the clear air, the sun, the night sky and in many hearts that smile because she could make love grow in many ways just with hers. Here’s to life and death Sara…

Now we were more towards the other side of the country and there is a different kind of magic here. There is more often a stillness in the air and it is less barren and more wooded as you descend toward the Black Isle. Soon we were crossing the bridge over The Moray Firth that takes you into Inverness, the first sizeable town we’d seen for ages.

We’d given up on adventure now because we were so burned out and we were able to relax for a couple of days before the long drive back to Lancashire and it was so good to see my friends Billy and Carla again after so long. Billy’s ma and aunty were there too and his mum showed Michael something that he still remembers and enjoys nine months later ~ you put his fist in your mouth and then remove it with a big popping noise. POP! Like that. Ah, happy days…

There have quite a few times when I’ve been sat at home on a Tuesday or Thursday night and have thought to myself ‘I wish I was in Inverness at the Market Bar watching Billy’. I remember the first time I went there and it was a quiet night though the guy singing on the stage with a jazz electric guitar was really putting on a show that was like nothing I’d seen before and I was touched by his charm. Well, four or five years after my last visit I was back there again and it seemed like no time had passed at all. Billy was there on the same stage emanating the same warmth and just doing what it takes to make people laugh and smile ~ something he has a special gift for. Colourful sounds from his Gibson 335 hung in the atmosphere. He finished off his first set with a self~penned classic which is known as ‘Never go to the bingo on the mushrooms’. This worldly song had us in tears. In the second half I got on stage with my guitar and we both played. I love being on stage with Billy, that would always be a highlight of any day or month, no matter what I’d been up to!

There’s not really a lot left to tell you about after that. We did go into town the next day and bought The Waterboy’s latest album ‘Universal Hall’ which was something very new and exciting that I listened to a lot and loved straight away, we went to see the dolphins in the Moray Firth but they were on holiday we had the craic at Billy’s house and laughed loads and loads and we slept well.

When we pulled up outside our terraced house after that whore of a drive home we couldn’t get over what a time we’d had! Scotland always has a place in my heart and do you know what, that painting that Mary bought… I have grown to really love it.