The whole point of Ballycastle was to get to Islay by the wee ferry and by ‘wee’ I mean there were 10 travelers onboard. I think the Cap’s name a was Roger, or at least it is now. A man who obviously knew his job and @ £60/head each way, a good way to earn a living for 8 months a year. The stern throttles were something I hadn’t seen before and offered impressive handling near the docks.
Rathlin Island where I had been a few days ago as we passed. It offered protection from the wind so once we had cleared it the ride became fun. Well, for me anyway.
The bus from Rathlin harbor had taken me to this lighthouse built into the cliff face.
This will give you a bit of a feel for the boat trip. I tried to take another video about a 20 minutes after this but could not keep steady enough to do so. To paraphrase the title of a British TV show 5 Out of 10 Cats lost their breakfast!
I was fairly soaked once we reached Islay as in addition to the wave spray, it had started to pour. I was not looking forward to camping for the first time in 40 years in this weather but my choices were limited as the annual Isaly Jazz Festival had taken up all the available rooms. I tucked into the first local pub, passing up the posh Islay Hotel to get a pint and dry out a bit. I was in luck as there was a fine coal fire burning.
Here one of the most amazing things happened that I’ve experienced in any travels. Genuine human kindness. The two lads at the bar, Dan & Paddy were Irishmen who had come to the island to work on the new hotel/golfcourse, the Machrie. The course is an old one that had fallen into disrepair but was now on it’s way to becoming a 3-4 star resort
The rear with ground floor gym and clubhouse overlooking the links course.
Complete with composting toilets
Now here is the amazing thing that I mentioned. While I stepped before the fire the lads ad a chat and when I returned Dan said that the company provided them with caravans to live in as part of their compensation and he was not comfortable with me trying to spend a night in the rain and wind so he offered me the use of his caravan for the night whilst he bunked with Paddy. To say I was blown away would be an understatement. But an offer I could not refuse considering the alternative.
When we got tot his place he then topped the offer by handing me a bottle with a few ounces of poitin a very smooth but highly alcholed drink. I sipped it carefully that evening, after we shared one. The next day I had planned to head to Jura a couple miles away but decided the smarter move would be to get to the mainland and out of the worsening weather. So having had a beer in the bar, I had technically been a guest but the £400/night rooms were far out of my budget.
Although the trip had had to be cut short, I felt fortunate as I noted the WWI memorial by the CalMac terminal to Kennacraig on the Kintyre.
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