It's a Luing Thing

Last night we sat around after supper making plans. Ruaraidh and Sandra decided to go North to Loch Ness, with their three boys, to find the monster and the castle (Urquhart). The weather was supposed to be better in the North, but we remained undecided.

"I really enjoyed the walk today" I said, so Ruaraidh suggested that we visit the Isle of Luing. This lies to the South of Oban, reached by crossing Seil Island, which is connected to the mainland by the smallest, most hump-backed bridge over the Atlantic.

After a late start and some messing around on Seil, still dithering between the slate-quarrying island of Easdale and the unknown Luing, we ended up at Cuan Ferry, opposite Luing, which is pronounced ling. The morning showers had cleared, giving way to sparkling waters and a bustling harbour scene straight out of the Katie Morag books. The ferry is a flatbed roll on-roll off type ( I'm being highly technical here, had you noticed?) that swivels around to accommodate different types of vehicle, such as parcel vans; feed lorries; the post office van which also serves as the school bus; tractor pulling trailers piled with hay. We saw all of these, but hardly any cars. Travelling on foot is cheaper. CleanSteve has blipped the ferry here.

I took the ferry, while CleanSteve opted to stay and watch the traffic and blip birds in the bay. We were starving, having only some water and a couple of rotten apples between us, but, unlike Port Appin, there is no shop in the village. Once across, I headed for the caravan park, to see if I could hire a bike for a while. Only hens were pecking around in the garden; not a human in sight; but I thought if I ever needed to finish writing a novel, with no distractions, Sunnbybrae caravan park might just be the perfect lochside location! Turns out it is owned by the family of my niece's school friend.

I didn't fancy the road past all the houses, so went back past the slipway and over on to the path that seemed to lead through what I thought was a machair ( common grazing ground) but turned out to be a bog. I was glad of my walking boots, and spent some time trying to blip lobster creels, and a pylon, and a blue sky, and of course the loch, and the boats.

Some other walkers came by and told me there was a path all the way to the point, and by that time I had spotted some ruined crofts, and got very excited. There were piles of slate everywhere. Easdale Island, which is nearby, is famous for its (rather poor quality) slate, but Luing seemed to have plenty just lying around, everywhere along the shore. The croft ruins were made of piled slate, and it was while I was looking up at the crags beyond the ruins that I spotted the jagged cloud. I'd heard thunder rumbling long and low, but I never felt more than the odd spot of rain. One of the filters in the camera was on (it's distracting having twelve filters, plus landscape colour-balance mode, and fully auto, which I hardly ever use because there's no learning, but which produces the best results). However, it was only when I shifted the camera around, pointing fractionally more towards the sky, that the sky suddenly showed its thunder-colours.

Shortly after that I crossed back over, along with a couple of school kids who were travelling by post office van and ferry. We headed back through Oban, still bustling with tourists, to Benderloch, where my sister's boyfriend was celebrating his 50th birthday. A very Katie Morag-ish tea party took place, with cakes and tattie scones; kids hurtling around ; three generations of family of the very extended variety. CleanSteve took a family portrait shot. I'd have thought there were about 18 of us present, but have just counted and found that there were 17 humans and of course Joe, the dog.