tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9157095549676201642024-02-22T10:21:08.581+00:00Peter on MullLife on a Hebridean IslandPeter on Mullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18237088502986643278noreply@blogger.comBlogger52125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-915709554967620164.post-75919666942357981782012-11-10T12:45:00.001+00:002012-11-10T12:45:35.577+00:00Time FliesOver a month has gone by and no time to sit down and write my blog. Time on this island just flies by or maybe it is just age! A famous personality whose name I forget once said that he new he was getting older as breakfast seemed every ten minutes! I know the feeling well. Whilst quoting what others have said I share with you what one of our local tourist operators said in response to an American visitor who asked “What is it like living on a remote island?”, the local pondered for a short time and replied, “Well last year no one died of stress and only two of boredom!”<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rescued bird</td></tr>
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Since my last blog we have watched the seasons change and are now knee deep in broad leaves from Oak and Beech with an overlying snow of tiny yellow needles from the Larch tree leaving just the pine trees exhibiting green. So leaves and seaweed are now being composted and the lazy beds prepared for next years potatoes. Our new wild life pond is well and truly full and its overflow working as planned, (heaves a sigh of relief!). The new fencing is keeping the deer and rabbits at bay and the pheasants have learnt to fly in for feeding. The downside is that there are apparently no hedgehogs inside the fenced area and, of course the rabbit netting will keep them out, last year we had a couple of hedgehogs trapped in the cattle grid so now an escape ladder has been fitted. Our swallow family will by now be well on their way to South Africa, but their entertaining fly displays are replaced by finches, robins and other small birds, including a goldcrest who managed to stun himself by trying to fly through a closed window. Thankfully, he was found and after some TLC was none the worse for the accident.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">Oh look at Me!</td></tr>
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We can now see our local heron that returns each night after a day fishing in the bay to roost at the top of the large now bare branched oak tree. The Sea Eagles occasionally fly over and the otters are more in evidence though we only seem to see them when daughter Maggie is on the island (see preselimags recent blog)!</div>
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The recent display of the Northern Lights (Aurora Borealis) was on a clear cold night, the first time that we had experienced them and worth getting cold to see. The display lasted over an hour and lit the sky to the north with a strange green light. Colour has been much in our vision as the green leaves changed to copper and many shades of yellow and brown as the trees dropped their leaves whilst the remaining flowers both wild and in our garden valiantly give some remaining cornflower blues and marigold yellows. The blue haze on the hills has been replaced by misty damp greys with the higher mountain capped with white snow.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Northern Lights</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Wildlife Pond almost finished</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Autumn Leaves</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Otter with fish<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I know I should not be here...but...!</td></tr>
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Peter on Mullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18237088502986643278noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-915709554967620164.post-5139194639794301262012-10-04T10:47:00.002+01:002012-10-04T10:47:23.663+01:00Mull Fiddlers Rally<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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No we have not gone funny on the island and do not meet up to fiddle with things! The Mull Fiddlers Rally is a once a year meeting at Aros Hall, Tobermory, of amateur and professional fiddle and accordion players from the island supported by like minded people from all over Scotland with even one or two travelling up from England. The players form themselves into an orchestra complete with piano, double bass and a conductor who also plays an accordion and sings. A couple of folk singers and junior bagpipers and a chairman complete the set up. With the audience in place the evening begins with a stirring, swirling of the bagpipers, almost too much for the small hall! The pipers leave and then the fiddlers are let loose with a program of marches, hornpipes, waltzes, Irish Jigs and Scottish dances. These are interspersed with renditions from a female Irish folk singer now living on Mull and a male Gaelic folk singer. The chairman not only introduces each set but also fitted in some hilarious jokes. The evening finished very late after many encores with everyone standing to sing the Mull National Anthem, An t-Eilian Muileach and Auld Lang Syne both much appreciated by visitors from mainland and overseas who were attending. A good craich!</div>
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On an other evening this time in front of a sell out audience at our Mull Theatre we listened to the English comedian Mark Steel give his impression of life on Mull and in particular, Tobermory. The show, being recorded for BBC Radio 4, is one in Mark’s series of programmes, “Mark Steel’s in Town”. He visits small towns writing his script highlighting the quirkiness and interesting aspects of the area after talking to many local people. His superb presentation is delivered through his eyes as a London city dweller that acts surprised at things that locals take for granted. With the audience well involved in the repartee the show proceeds. Did you know for instance that you cannot buy underwear or towels on Mull? So where do you get them – the metropolis of Oban “quite near - only a 45 minute drive from the theatre and a 45 minute ferry crossing” (not quite like popping into Brent Cross shopping centre!). The regular refrain from the audience was, “get it in Oban!” So that is the flavour of the show, it is scheduled for BBC Radio Four at the end of November and will be well worth listening to.</div>
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Peter on Mullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18237088502986643278noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-915709554967620164.post-86523499736706749082012-09-09T11:04:00.000+01:002012-09-09T11:04:46.437+01:00Swallows
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ok I am coming!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where is our breakfast?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Get that inside you!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Four happy chicks.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Do not leave me behind!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK1g-LueGFBgfrEf75R7m54P3CJ-UjMTR9FrCEfGLXPZmGw05L-TO_riya-i_wHt4aL0pnKQBi9itDfPNkrdl8PXS_RoCde1mJp8viQFCFukPCFgkEyddw8Bl_Hbn6IpmOZp5Nn6BoN1jS/s1600/P1050506.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK1g-LueGFBgfrEf75R7m54P3CJ-UjMTR9FrCEfGLXPZmGw05L-TO_riya-i_wHt4aL0pnKQBi9itDfPNkrdl8PXS_RoCde1mJp8viQFCFukPCFgkEyddw8Bl_Hbn6IpmOZp5Nn6BoN1jS/s200/P1050506.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Made it down here - now what do I do?</td></tr>
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During the last two months we have watched a pair of Swallows build their nest in a corner of our carport and raise their young. They made a start and then seemed to abandon the work and just enjoy zooming around the village. Finally, however, they settled down to completing the nest so that the female could lay her eggs. We were never quite sure if eggs had been successfully laid until one morning we noticed broken shells on the floor below. So, were they empty shells discarded after hatching, or the bad news that some predator had got into the nest for apparently no adult birds were around so maybe the “raided” nest had been deserted. Then we noticed activity with two adult birds now making regular visits to the nest so they were obviously feeding young. Potty training was also well in hand as the guano pile below the nest grew daily.</div>
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One morning all was revealed as four lusty chicks popped heads out looking for breakfast. And breakfast they certainly got as both parents did a food on the wing shuttle service feeding until the full chicks fell asleep. There were anxious moments when we thought that one chick was missing, and an even more traumatic time when the nest broke away from the wall and deposited three of the now well fledged chicks on the floor. They were all mobile enough to flutter away to safety and eventually regrouped on the ridge of the house. With the inclement weather we were experiencing not exactly the most comfortable place, but the parents carried on with feeding and training. Meanwhile, we were concerned about chick number four who seemed to be abandoned and sat for a day or so on the washing line by the nest pitifully cheeping as though calling for food. No food arrived and eventually the chick plucked up courage and tumbled with wings flapping first on to the bonnet of the Land Rover and then into the big outside world. He sat on the patio and in the garden forlornly all day cheeping and finally flew up onto the deer fence whereupon an adult swallow flew straight to him and proceeded to feed him. Eventually the chick joined the other three and as this is being written all four healthy chicks are alternately sitting on the roof or doing circuits and bumps as they improve flying techniques and learn to feed themselves on the wing. Nighttime and wild weather sees them back in the shelter of the nest and washing line “perch” alongside. Time here is running out for them, as they must shortly leave for their winter home 9,500 kilometres away in the warmth of South Africa. Be nice to know if the whole family make it but I doubt if we will get a postcard so will have to be content with seeing them back here next year. Bon Voyage!!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All together finally - Now got to learn to fly and feed ourselves</td></tr>
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Peter on Mullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18237088502986643278noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-915709554967620164.post-71697122622238500122012-08-28T10:12:00.001+01:002012-08-28T10:12:26.063+01:00The Singing Shepherd<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
A few weeks ago I wrote about a visit to a farm on the North side of the island to watch Iain Thomson, the singing shepherd at work. Since then he has completed our deer fence, fitted it with rabbit wire and hung our heavy metal entrance gates. So now it was time to go to one of his live performances. On the island we are fortunate to have some halls that hold about sixty people and thus have an intimate atmosphere for the benefit of both musicians and their audiences. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbKdyAsMSz1D5b1kM-B6QoS6UQtQ7nW3utt8My3kPQzgnFSzUfP2P4hq53jJ8QBwhxR8dwAQ4wtV4qx1UiVHgjJfphbmsJbXzBnrOeRE7jA9cz53ZBci0kP-GlIy6hna8VKo7tpedya6br/s1600/Iain+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" fea="true" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbKdyAsMSz1D5b1kM-B6QoS6UQtQ7nW3utt8My3kPQzgnFSzUfP2P4hq53jJ8QBwhxR8dwAQ4wtV4qx1UiVHgjJfphbmsJbXzBnrOeRE7jA9cz53ZBci0kP-GlIy6hna8VKo7tpedya6br/s320/Iain+3.jpg" width="320" /></a>Iain, who writes his own songs, plays the guitar and keyboard was sharing the stage with a professional musician Marc Duff. Marc is one of those artists who play many instruments and can switch from one to another whilst drawing a breath. He supported Iain’s singing with bodram, low D whistle, Erin pipes and bouzouki, whilst not playing all at once easy and smooth transitions during pieces were a delight to watch and listen to. </div>
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The programme of Iain’s music celebrated his life with its up and downs and his travels from Mull to the Scottish mainland as a shepherd, then long distance trucking all over the UK before a stint as a shearer in New Zealand before returning to Mull and his croft with his flock of sheep. As with his fencing work his professionalism with his music is very apparent, his style is quiet and entertaining, the vocals thought provoking and they tell the story of land use change from the infamous highland clearances to the present day. People are important to Iain so there are songs to tell the tale of a man from Mull who fought as a Royal Marine Commando in the Falklands war and of the Welsh Pedlar, John Jones, who died on the island after nursing families sick with typhoid back in the late 1880s. For those not fortunate to know Iain and his music it can be enjoyed on his website <a href="http://www.iainthomsonband.co.uk/">www.iainthomsonband.co.uk</a><br />
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Peter on Mullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18237088502986643278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-915709554967620164.post-61834122606291355202012-08-14T13:10:00.000+01:002012-08-14T13:10:41.645+01:00Salen Show<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzkVAn-Y1wBFmBzo6keKjmx8CzMOJqxp1V902C6XFicx_Xgi3HGBSQsIWdltyiXYZqk2fokoosEHz-goiMFr-RQxDE4zLBWhQzYQnThn-B2pF02i7I8iftpxpLDZ0Gw8XSVMXPECnICziu/s1600/P1050342.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzkVAn-Y1wBFmBzo6keKjmx8CzMOJqxp1V902C6XFicx_Xgi3HGBSQsIWdltyiXYZqk2fokoosEHz-goiMFr-RQxDE4zLBWhQzYQnThn-B2pF02i7I8iftpxpLDZ0Gw8XSVMXPECnICziu/s320/P1050342.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Angus commentating</td></tr>
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One of the highlights of the year on Mull is the annual Salen Show, or to be more precise The Mull and Morven Agricultural Society Annual Show. The show is held as you might guess in a field on the shore of the Sound of Mull just north of Salen. It has a tradition going back to 1832 and most years the weather is kind, not too hot with the rain staying away so animals and people are comfortable. The animals are Highland coos, Blackface, Hebridean and Cheviot sheep, and Dogs, yes Dogs! The whole island seems to bring their dogs for the dog show. No fancy breeds here just pets doing their bit for the days entertainment. The Mull and Iona pipe band and the Mull Fiddlers provide back ground music all played over the PA system when Angus Mackay, the show commentator, is not chivvying competitors, promoting stalls, asking for cars to be moved and generally giving information in his own inimitable style. Inner man (and woman) is not forgotten for burgers made from local meat and salmon rolls from local fish are readily available along with home baked cakes and home made sandwiches. As is usual at island functions all at very reasonable prices. The horticultural produce is auctioned off at the end of the day, this year the winning cabbage went for a fiver and was almost too heavy to lift. For the young and active there is a fell running event, terrier racing, show jumping and a tug of war, and for the rest of us a quiet amble round the stalls and a lean on the stock hurdles watching the antics of sheep and cattle and their stockmen. The stars of the show must, however, be the highland cattle with their beautifully prepared coats and coat hanger horns being paraded round the ring with mischievous dignity as they gently push their handlers </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Judging </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pushing</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimKrCL8lrjHnLQq1RSpWSbFNbQyg-AeGpHG5Bfh37FI2KwveZQO66GbHScjpQGmJUZIMuM4qq7miFfcOtfUH153iWNB2jH4wHOLWTEbgkzM9uDO-8N-PqeJ6JplH5cO0Xgwjaq-7BoQnUu/s1600/P1050354.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimKrCL8lrjHnLQq1RSpWSbFNbQyg-AeGpHG5Bfh37FI2KwveZQO66GbHScjpQGmJUZIMuM4qq7miFfcOtfUH153iWNB2jH4wHOLWTEbgkzM9uDO-8N-PqeJ6JplH5cO0Xgwjaq-7BoQnUu/s200/P1050354.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pulling</td></tr>
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Peter on Mullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18237088502986643278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-915709554967620164.post-78781855413185900532012-08-06T11:25:00.000+01:002012-08-06T11:25:57.042+01:00Ulva - Wolf Island
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ferry from Mull</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaaWH078WLwIGq1ITyMJOxWMjtA6ZacuPsgv798Ft4BlcMd_94hOZfRx8LTc8mtgfCRAlRl6QryyeRpaUfzpRP_9UUHyFB8nAD9VHai-CT6E1nVWhfHsOKHO-2OTeXEacjCOMtVdDLiyti/s1600/P1050311.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" eda="true" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaaWH078WLwIGq1ITyMJOxWMjtA6ZacuPsgv798Ft4BlcMd_94hOZfRx8LTc8mtgfCRAlRl6QryyeRpaUfzpRP_9UUHyFB8nAD9VHai-CT6E1nVWhfHsOKHO-2OTeXEacjCOMtVdDLiyti/s200/P1050311.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Boathouse</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sheila's Cottage Lived in by Shiela Macfayden until 1900 and restore<br />
recently to show the way of life as it was in Victorian times on the island.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Telfords Kirk</td></tr>
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<br /><br />The weather was kind to us when we visited Ulva. The Viking raiders who settled there would have been very much at home as the setting in the skerries between Loch Tuath and Loch na Keal is very Scandinavian. They called it Wolf’s Island hence its modern day name. It is on the west side of Mull and just a five-minute ferry crossing from the main island of Mull on board a small open boat. Ulva and its small neighbour Gometra are privately owned so visiting I think is a privilege, though in addition to farming the twenty or so occupants are reliant on tourism. The Boathouse, a licenced café that is a short walk from the jetty sets the scene. It is attractive and comfortable and most importantly has good food and refreshments served with a smile. There are almost no vehicles on the island, we saw a couple of old Land Rovers parked up. The transport on the island is quad bikes with trailers, and the farm tractors. Walking the rough lanes following the signposted walks is therefore a delight with no pollution and ever changing vistas. We walked through the lanes that wended their way through old deciduous woodland flanked with ancient moss covered walls to visit the Kirk that nestles in the woods overlooking Loch Tuath. It was built in Victorian times when the island had a population of about eight hundred people before the then proprietor savagely cleared the island to graze sheep. The Kirk’s architect was none other than the famous engineer, Thomas Telford who designed it to accommodate three hundred worshippers. The kirk was built with no frills and given a light airy hall with almost no adornment, as befitted the nonconformists of the time. Those were the days when the island economy was based on farming, fishing and kelp gathering, which gave the people a reasonably good life. Sadly, the kelp trade that supplied glassmakers with an important ingredient, Soda Ash, fell into decline after the invention of an industrial process to make it more cheaply than collecting and burning seaweed. <br /><br />The island has connections with many famous people. Early tourists were David Livingston, Samuel Johnson and Sir Walter Scott. Lachlan Macquarrie born on the island in 1762 left to join the Army rose through the ranks to become a General but more importantly was sent to Australia as the Governor of the newly founded colony. His work earned him the accolade “Father of Australia”. He returned to Mull on his retirement and is buried almost overlooking Ulva at Gruline where his resting place uniquely is dedicated as Australian territory. It is an island that we will certainly visit </div>
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</div>Peter on Mullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18237088502986643278noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-915709554967620164.post-29380109664345803012012-07-22T18:48:00.002+01:002012-07-22T18:48:25.144+01:00Mull Highland Games<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Whilst the rest of the country is suffering from Olympic fever, for the Highlands and Islands it is Highland Games time. Though the Games, like the Olympics, date from time immemorial and were a test for warriors, the Games, as we know them today is quite a recent event. In fact they were the idea of an English aristocrat who had a Highland estate in Victorian times. Queen Victoria’s purchase of Balmoral on Deeside is another story but suffice to say she started the trend for wealthy Southerners to own Highland estates. </div>
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So our island has its Highland Games. They are held every July on Tobermory Golf Course, high above the town with fantastic views of mainland Scotland, this year it was clear and we could see Ben Nevis. The Sound of Mull was glassy and blue beneath us. You may have guessed by now that the weather was kind though it started out dull and overcast so off we went with un-needed waterproofs. The games start right in the town as the Hereditary Chieftain, Sir Lachlan Maclean and the Games officials form up in front of the Pipe Band to march down Main Street wending the way up Back Brae to the Games field. Everyone going to the games follows the pipe band so by the time the Chieftain arrives at the fields he is followed by hundreds of people who join the march. <br />
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We were no different and arrived in the happy sea of humanity. The field is a perfect venue with Highland Dance competitions at one end, the Heavy sports at the other and all enclosed by the running track. Spectators sit on a natural grassy bank above the arena, not too far from the food tent and the bar and able to see all events from one viewpoint. There are Highland dancing and bagpipe playing competitions going on all day, field and track events also. The highlight for the majority of the spectators is the Heavy Events. These are the traditional Highland sports rarely seen outside Highland Games meetings. So 16lb hammers are thrown over 150 feet, a variety of other weights various distances all with much effort by very burly competitors. To ring the changes a 56lb hammer is also thrown over a bar, at the moment the record set in 2011 is 16 feet, a 16lb Ball is putt in the order of 50 feet. </div>
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The event known to all is Tossing the Caber. The Caber is a straight tree trunk about 19 feet long and weighing 175lbs. The thrower has to lift the Caber vertically run with it and toss it so that it falls away from him. Sometimes successfully, sometimes it bounces and drops back towards judge and caber tosser who need to get from under. As all this is going on pipe bands entertain, this year the champion Oban High School Band shared the honours with our own Mull and Iona Pipe Band. As the games drew to a close the “heavies” staged a knock out competition heaving a 42lb weight over a bar above their heads, the last competitor breaking the record at 18 feet without breaking his head!!!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_D00fZUTmotrLgXiGH1jE2qkmdP6nZoXpXcTAf_d0cQP3H1on6k6Sw3rBgiwQEvP15jFMouyvx1ZtRLdq0a3ZvgArcSgiEVqeP-ihS45FIjJesWr6c6p3Lg4_ojeeOprOLVG14z85lv5S/s1600/P1050131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" hda="true" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_D00fZUTmotrLgXiGH1jE2qkmdP6nZoXpXcTAf_d0cQP3H1on6k6Sw3rBgiwQEvP15jFMouyvx1ZtRLdq0a3ZvgArcSgiEVqeP-ihS45FIjJesWr6c6p3Lg4_ojeeOprOLVG14z85lv5S/s200/P1050131.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>Peter on Mullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18237088502986643278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-915709554967620164.post-13976906496925276322012-07-18T18:12:00.000+01:002012-07-18T18:12:47.205+01:00Sheep Shearing and singer<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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We were offered the opportunity to visit a farm in the north of the island to watch the “Singing Shepherd” Iain Thomson shearing sheep and to take photographs whilst he did so. By the time we arrived he had clipped over a hundred so was in no voice to sing! In a previous life I had a few sheep so shearing and the smell of sheep was not new to me. Nevertheless, it was fascinating to watch an expert set the sheep on its tail and get it in exactly the right position to cut the fleece away. The hallmark of a good shearer is to remove the fleece in one, remove it quickly and not cut the animals skin. <br />
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The speed and flow of shearing was almost musical to watch! </div>
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When the shepherd is not shearing, tending sheep he is either fencing or singing. Fencing on this island means serious deer fencing and Iain has erected more than his fair share, including ours, over the years. </div>
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He is an accomplished singer songwriter with several professionally produced Cds. His voice has an easy listening style and his repertoire includes many well know folk songs, but for us his some of his best are the songs that he has written about the island and his life both on and off the island on a cd called Fields of Dreams. Iain also finds time to go on tour and sing at venues on the island and is much in demand. For details of the cds and song lyrics visit www.iainthomsomband.co.uk </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiufXFSIqGx8dIdRaT39kEDX2RRCtoXsMdDMtEZIV1jeE-WNWox9m6zBPZCIk2M5obOzOFvtuvUWVF7XovOX3MF86dHUTFMxohD-DHz0DYQyIMpzZi88CSubRL9Z4whHgaX6ls7PR3UUZYq/s1600/P1040989.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hda="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiufXFSIqGx8dIdRaT39kEDX2RRCtoXsMdDMtEZIV1jeE-WNWox9m6zBPZCIk2M5obOzOFvtuvUWVF7XovOX3MF86dHUTFMxohD-DHz0DYQyIMpzZi88CSubRL9Z4whHgaX6ls7PR3UUZYq/s320/P1040989.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Peter on Mullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18237088502986643278noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-915709554967620164.post-23000703086474610362012-07-11T09:38:00.000+01:002012-07-11T09:38:26.652+01:00Visit to StaffaIt seems a while since I managed to find time to write a blog but at this time of year almost inevitable as outdoor activities and welcome visitors keep me away from the computer. Not to mention the fact that over the past weeks we have definitely had a computer gremlin that is still not fully sorted. <br />
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However, It was twenty-five years almost to the day since I last visited the island of Staffa. Then I was there when on a training cruise with the Royal Naval Auxiliary Service and was allowed to take one of our small craft right into Fingal’s Cave which is the main cave of a number that are formed in the basalt cliffs. The second trip was on the motor launch, Island Lass that runs out to the island from Ulva Ferry on Mull. This visit was with friends from The Netherlands who wanted to see the caves and photograph the puffins that burrow in the cliffs. Almost as soon as we sailed from Ulva Ferry out into Loch Na Keal we saw dolphins playing which set the tone for the day as the rain stayed away and the sun shone fitfully as we ploughed our way across a calm sea. </div>
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Staffa lies about six miles to the west of Mull and is probably the best know of all the small islands off our coast. Its Viking name Pillar Island describes it well, being of volcanic formation with towering forty-two metres high basalt columnar cliffs with six large caves. Fingal’s Cave, twenty metres high and cutting seventy-five metres into the rock was celebrated by Felix Mendelssohn in his Hebrides Overture. This made the island famous which attracted many distinguished visitors including Queen Victoria. The other caves are less well known though Mackinnon’s Cave (named after one of the abbots of Iona) ranks as one of the worlds largest sea caves. Getting on the island is not for the faint hearted. The boat slides into a small concrete jetty at the base of the cliffs and the stairway, part steel and part cut from stone zigzags to the top. Once there and our breath back, the surrounding views and the myriad of wild flowers make a spectacular back drop to the antics of the birds. Our friends trekked across the island to the puffin burrows whilst we enjoyed the warm sunshine and wild flowers before returning to the boat back down the stairway. </div>
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<br />Peter on Mullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18237088502986643278noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-915709554967620164.post-23986144878088719062012-07-01T12:47:00.001+01:002012-07-01T12:47:35.731+01:00Our Lighthouses Part 1<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">Lismore Lighthouse</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lady Rock Beacon</td></tr>
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Until I moved to the island, I worked as lighthouse attendant for the Trinity House Lighthouse Service looking after a lighthouse on the Welsh coast. So it is natural that I have taken more than a passing interest in our local lighthouses and beacons. The Sound of Mull is a well-lit waterway. The major light at the entrance is on Lismore or to be more precise on Eilean Musdile at the larger islands southerly point. Our ferry passes almost within touching distance on her way to and from Oban. The lighthouse was designed by Robert Stevenson and built by James Smith of Inverness. The Commissioners of the Northern Lighthouse Board purchased the small island that it was built on for £500 in 1830. The lighthouse which took about three years to build cost a further £4,250, a considerable investment in those days. For their money they got a 26-metre tower with its lantern on top. The first light was a fixed white light but this was soon changed to a flashing one, currently it flashes once every 10 seconds and has a range of seventeen nautical miles. The tower is painted white and stands out from the background so that by day and night it guides shipping exiting the Sound of Mull and transiting the Firth of Lorne. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William Black Memorial Lighthouse</td></tr>
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When passing the lighthouse on the starboard side on the approach to the Isle of Mull if you quickly move to the port side you will see three other historic places. There is a beacon to keep ships off Lady’s Rock. The rock is so named because the wife of one of the first Lords of Duart was stranded on it after displeasing her husband. Luckily for her a passing fisherman heard her cries, rescued her before the rising tide engulfed her so as the saying goes…they lived happily ever after. This is just one of the many stories about the attempted murder of Lady Elizabeth another claims that her family rescued her. The imposing castle of the Clan Maclean is on Duart Point, though it has been the clans stronghold for hundreds of years, it was derelict for a very long time and has just celebrated the restoration 100 years ago by Sir Fitzroy Maclean. Just along the Mull coast from Duart castle there is a small castellated gothic tower. It is a working lighthouse, now fully automatic, but unusually also memorial to the Scottish novelist, William Black. It was placed in his favourite spot on the eastern most point of Mull in 1900 by a group of friends who commissioned the Edinburgh architect, Sir William Lieper to design it.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Duart Castle</td></tr>
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</div>Peter on Mullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18237088502986643278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-915709554967620164.post-13970317234631728452012-06-25T15:01:00.000+01:002012-06-25T15:01:00.302+01:00Midges<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Anyone who knows the West Coast of Scotland will be aware of midges. They are one of three irritants regularly discussed here. The other two being the tourists and the weather. There is even a Scottish Midge Forecast (www.midgeforecast.co.uk) from who I quote” Midges are tiny insects with a wingspan of just 1-2mm. They suck blood from the skin, causing itching and swelling that can last several days. In summer, midges that bite people can reach vast numbers and become a real problem for both locals and tourists. Midges have been around for thousands of years but with climate change they are increasing their range and extending their season, meaning more bites. Biting midges are infamous in the Scottish Highlands, but they are now also found in other parts of the UK, including the Lake District and North Wales.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Midge Magnet</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our answer under test</td></tr>
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There are nearly 40 species of biting midge in Scotland but only five of these are thought to regularly feed on people. Of these the Highland midge, Culicoides impunctatus (or ‘Meanbh-chuileag’ in Gaelic, meaning ‘tiny fly’), is the most bloodthirsty, and the species responsible for most of the bites of people. Midges target their victims by sensing carbon dioxide in exhaled breath and other odours associated with their targets.So the answer must be do not breathe out and do not give off odours, easier said than done. But there are ways to combat them or at least keep them at bay. The soldiers in the British Army use and claim Avon’s Skin So Soft cream works very well, it is not a designed repellent but it was found by accident that midges do not like it. Other people swear by lavender and tea tree oil, other just swear and do an Australian salute. There are also machines known as midge magnets. They suck the midges out of the air and kill them. When you empty the machine of the blocks of now “dead” midges they need to be frozen before burning, strange but true. We, with a limited amount of success use citronella flares, as the name says burn citronella oil so that the smoke and hot vapour keep the midges at bay and these are work when kept topped up with oil and over the limited area of our patio. When all else fails and the midges win the only answer is to retreat indoors and pour a wee dram!</div>
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<br />Peter on Mullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18237088502986643278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-915709554967620164.post-85217724555706682542012-06-22T09:00:00.000+01:002012-06-22T09:00:12.821+01:00A voyage to the Treshnish Isles<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Lunga is one of the Treshnish Islands, an uninhabited group off the west coast of Mull. They were not always uninhabited as they were once a stronghold of one of the clans who built a castle there and more recently a family farmed Lunga for many years as a summer sheiling. Now the population is seabirds and seals. We sailed from Fionnphort with a group of friends on Mark Jardine’s beautiful classic boat. Birthe Marie was built as a fishing boat in Denmark in 1933. Mark has done a great job restoring her as an eco-friendly charter boat. Though she has a powerful engine, the idea when wind allows, is to sail, using her ketch rig where the wind takes her and take in the scenery and wildlife. That is just what we did. I have to admit that the day we went out the sea was a flat calm and the wind about force one, so the engine had to be used until the wind picked up later in the day </div>
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Our first “port of call” was Lunga, landing on the rocks and climbing the cliff path to the Puffin burrows to photograph and enjoy the antics of these friendly members of the Auk family. They have little fear of humans so it is possible to get in close for photographs, in fact they are quite happy to pose and sometimes a second bird will sidle into the shot. It is said that they tolerate human presence because our being there stops the gulls from mobbing them and grabbing food as the puffins return to the cliffs from a fishing trip. Seemed to work whilst we were there! So we all lazed in the sun eating picnics and enjoying the fabulous scenery before returning to our boat to voyage on. </div>
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We skirted the west side of the isl<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicnq5XZXPPfr9kl5pL3Mr6IG8sD6AuVlX_JBhHhmFW3ter2vc_nPva3b_m7q0vNe1JKOgrV0czZofn0F5qzmtURkDi2znnOzOvad5d_aSzmwYxPGqQsck-PjLSteUD0zzqdUU5xJcZ54Ee/s1600/P1040797.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; height: 152px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; width: 201px;"><img border="0" height="150" pca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicnq5XZXPPfr9kl5pL3Mr6IG8sD6AuVlX_JBhHhmFW3ter2vc_nPva3b_m7q0vNe1JKOgrV0czZofn0F5qzmtURkDi2znnOzOvad5d_aSzmwYxPGqQsck-PjLSteUD0zzqdUU5xJcZ54Ee/s200/P1040797.JPG" width="200" /></a>and going quite close to Harp Rock, so called because of its shape, not its musical outpourings. These would have been drowned by the thousands of guillemots and shearwaters nesting on the sheer face of the rock. The wind picked and so we were able to sail the next leg to Staffa. Staffa needs no introduction as Felix Mendelssohn introduced the island to the world with his “Fingal’s Cave” Overture. For me it was an overdue return for I was last in the cave in 1987 when on a naval training exercise when I was allowed to take a small dinghy right into the cave. Little did I know then that I would live on Mull and return to Staffa! Time did not allow landing on the island so after looking at the spectacular rock formations we set sail for home with a fair wind on the quarter and the sun warming our backs. The end to a pleasant day at sea! </div>
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<br /></div>Peter on Mullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18237088502986643278noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-915709554967620164.post-53238364646562803542012-06-16T09:00:00.000+01:002012-06-19T14:37:15.136+01:00White Tailed Eagles<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The RSBP Eagle Watch Hide is now in the forestry at Glen Seilisdeir at the southern end of Glenmore and at the head of Loch Scridain. The area is perfect territory for the White-tailed eagles allowing them a varied menu of fish from the loch and rabbits from the glen. So with twelve other people, a mixture of islanders and visitors, and about a million midges we were taken by the RSPB rangers on a two hour visit deep into the forest. The hide, hidden in the trees, is well equipped with powerful ‘scopes trained on the nest. This year the breeding pair have hatched two healthy looking chicks. <br />
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Through the aforesaid scopes we watched the birds undisturbed routine with the female adult returning back to the nest to feed the chicks. They were about four weeks old at the time of our visit which is about half way to being fully fledged and ready for the outside world. After a time in the hide we returned along the approach track to a log cabin for a talk by the ranger whilst watching the screen from the remote camera trained on the nest. This gives a “birds eye” view of the chicks and the nest. Sadly, this is as much for security as it is useful to monitor the health of the young chicks. There have been a number of prosecutions of photographers disturbing the birds and even an inveterate egg collector. <br />
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Whilst the hide visit is well worthwhile, many of Mull's White-tailed eagle population can be seen at the coast, with several breeding localities in close proximity of public roads, which can make the viewing of these awesome birds easier and as a bonus we occassionally see them circling high up over our village. In fact, later on the same day we were at the head of Loch Scridain and watched as a White-tailed eagle was being mobbed by two buzzards aided and abetted by one very brave gull. We thought the attackers were trying to make the eagle drop her prey but she beat them off by turning on her back and presenting the diving birds with her razor sharp talons. She flew off to feed her young and we nursed sore necks! Sometimes described as “flying barn doors”, the White-tailed eagle (also sometimes called the Sea Eagle) is the largest and heaviest bird of prey in the British Isles. They weigh around 7 kg and measure one metre from head to talon when perched. In flight the long, broad wingspan of 2.5 metres is unmistakeable as is the large white tail that gives then their correct name. They are a majestic and awe-inspiring sight whether seen perched or in flight.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx9locbxtlQkgFFctx3DuDqXO1dEQH8rVckylWbhth6NzjiivvpINKCQTOgtHJJoPiKbAu5cLpitbggxL_8rG5OIre1KyspoqpZIbXU7HT2kxX6qicymW_kqCraZn5lwtSyxkTI76IejIZ/s1600/P1040709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" pca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx9locbxtlQkgFFctx3DuDqXO1dEQH8rVckylWbhth6NzjiivvpINKCQTOgtHJJoPiKbAu5cLpitbggxL_8rG5OIre1KyspoqpZIbXU7HT2kxX6qicymW_kqCraZn5lwtSyxkTI76IejIZ/s320/P1040709.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Peter on Mullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18237088502986643278noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-915709554967620164.post-86605482255825650912012-06-13T14:22:00.000+01:002012-06-13T14:22:35.328+01:00An Afternoon in a garden<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGYVvBZKx_gSJUkdJIre4CUME0fqrEjMW8EmGy3YAV0d_iCs4COV5ea6_pl1XqpgrKZpwXU_3DDFPB61X-HfOdLDt4_TTgiqTorv-4UDhpjXhC9B3LTwWvrdPlp_kpnLhSnFtq6JgBnPEJ/s1600/P1040715.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" pca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGYVvBZKx_gSJUkdJIre4CUME0fqrEjMW8EmGy3YAV0d_iCs4COV5ea6_pl1XqpgrKZpwXU_3DDFPB61X-HfOdLDt4_TTgiqTorv-4UDhpjXhC9B3LTwWvrdPlp_kpnLhSnFtq6JgBnPEJ/s320/P1040715.JPG" width="320" /></a>A pleasant way to spend an afternoon is to sit in the sunshine in someone else’s cottage garden admiring their hard work whilst eating a picnic. But the admiration was not confined to the hard work but the layout of meandering paths, beautiful flowers, a fabulous variety of shrubs and trees, very productive raised beds for vegetables and a caged area for soft fruits. The rear deer fence had a section with a woven willow hedge to hide the utilitarian wire from view. My wife was in her element and arranged with the garden’s owner to have some surplus plants during the year.</div>
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When the garden contains a museum and archive of a village for me it is even more interesting. The village in question is Pennygael on the side of Loch Scridain and the museum with its papers and artefacts gives a view of what the village was like in the past. The private museum building is a refurbished cottage, light and airy setting off the large range of exhibits admirably. For me the collection of old tools was a delight, it is a hands on museum so I could pick up and get a feel for tools of yesterdays craftsmen. With a friend I attempted to name the some of the items that as yet had not been identified and determine just how they were used. We both agreed on the adze, but was it one used on the loch shore by a boat builder or as a framers adze for shaping roof timers when cottages were erected in the village. </div>
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There were some old blacksmithing tools that took me back to my childhood when my father had a forge, anvil and all the same types tools that fitted in the hole on the anvil know as the hardie hole. We explored the pile of tools, now well rusted looking like “junk” to the untrained eye, for tongs, hardies, pritchels, fullers, swages and chisels. Unfortunately, there was no anvil to complete the collection. Nearby were two pairs of working boots, one pair studded and the other interestingly iron shod with what looked like small horseshoes. </div>
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The workman and his wife needed “tools” for everyday living. It was a delight to find a peat cutter, various garden tools and some kitchen utensils but what caught my eye was the marmalade slicker for preparing the Seville oranges for the home made marmalade. </div>
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There was also transport! Leaning against the wall outside the door was an old “Pashley” parcel-carrying bike; this was a very early model that eventually became the well-known postman’s bike of the 1960s. Parts of it were made by my family sheet metal working business so for me evoked many memories.<br />
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<br />Peter on Mullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18237088502986643278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-915709554967620164.post-54729649403042269602012-06-05T15:46:00.000+01:002012-06-07T12:08:23.785+01:00Moonlight and CustardMoonlight and Custard<br />
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The last full moon was according to the media a “super moon” appearing larger in size and brightness than normal. This, those who know about these things informed us, was due to the moon being closer to the Earth than normal. All I can say is the “experts” have not been to the Isle of Mull. We do not have light pollution or smogs, just cold clear nights. Our moon always seems larger and brighter than I have experienced anywhere else on this planet. Not only is our moon brighter, starlit nights happen regularly, in fact, enough to prompt a passing interest in astronomy. I hasten to add only a quickly passing “wonder what that bright star is” as I make my way to bed. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEqkZ-pzP6LB_jEZqr5GWKimVp358dHBI5CybKdt-jzU-BghAPK8RZVdRAfT9K4kYpySSAdcQVQlAkv-J_XthH8ix8he-KL377Eg3RmT2fVLcbH0ONr4gjS8R4BdLs9TcEwznHv2oDKoXW/s1600/Custard+Advert.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" rba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEqkZ-pzP6LB_jEZqr5GWKimVp358dHBI5CybKdt-jzU-BghAPK8RZVdRAfT9K4kYpySSAdcQVQlAkv-J_XthH8ix8he-KL377Eg3RmT2fVLcbH0ONr4gjS8R4BdLs9TcEwznHv2oDKoXW/s200/Custard+Advert.jpg" width="129" /></a>As a child I was an avid custard eater and I remember getting a Cremola Custard badge with its Highlander looking at the man in the large moon. I cannot now remember why I received the badge, but ever since large full moons have been called “Creamola Custard” moons by me. Interestingly, the Creamola Custard factory was in Glasgow for many years, so maybe the recipes inventor was inspired by seeing a Hebridean moon as he made the very first custard mix. Sadly, Creamola Custard is no longer, as the Glasgow makers were bought up by one of the international heartless food giants in the 1950s. But!...Creamola Custard moons live on!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfbN0vW9CR2VCoE7RNMcXYQA_oRwPClOjXQJutIPyCrTeYX0FobF23GT2t4tk6fdexlGTJKshgpp6uKJrbA3bpNNGCHtPI56_a66JUkn2pEaOUZ7U_C6H8KysespuUyXbaYNete9QukpAd/s1600/Creamola+Badge.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" rba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfbN0vW9CR2VCoE7RNMcXYQA_oRwPClOjXQJutIPyCrTeYX0FobF23GT2t4tk6fdexlGTJKshgpp6uKJrbA3bpNNGCHtPI56_a66JUkn2pEaOUZ7U_C6H8KysespuUyXbaYNete9QukpAd/s1600/Creamola+Badge.bmp" /></a></div>Peter on Mullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18237088502986643278noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-915709554967620164.post-74523431457587526242012-05-31T15:58:00.002+01:002012-05-31T15:58:31.835+01:00Ardnamurchan Lighthouse<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ardnamurchan Lighthouse</td></tr>
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We took time off the island to visit the lighthouse at the tip of the Ardnamurchan peninsular with some friends on a visit to the Hebrides from their home in Sweden. After the very hot weather of the past week it was almost a pleasure for the day to be overcast but warm as we set out. We had two choices of route. Either across the Sound of Mull on the short ferry trip to Lochaline, and then a single-track road across Morven skirting Loch Sunart and driving along the length of the peninsular, a trip of about sixty miles but a very scenic one. Alternately we could drive to Tobermory catch the Calmac Ferry to Kilchoan and make the short drive of ten miles out to the lighthouse. Although it is expensive to take the land rover on the Kilchoan ferry it seemed an easier option than the drive round with the bonus that the ferry would pass close to another lighthouse, Rubha nan Gall just north of Tobermory.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The now redundant fog signal trumpet</td></tr>
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On board the ferry one of the crew members said on the previous trip they had stopped the ferry to let a school of dolphins swim clear, but no such luck for us! We think all the wild life on Mull are playing hide and seek with us though last week we did see an otter swimming past our local beach! </div>
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Alan Stevenson built the lighthouse between 1845 and 1849. It stands on flat rock about twenty metres above the sea on an otherwise mountainous peninsular at the most westerly point of mainland Britain. The granite that the thirty-six metre high tower was built from came by boat from the southern end of Mull and was landed on a temporary pier. The large lens, one of the first hyperadial ones, is now in the visitor centre as it was replaced in recent years by sealed beam units. The keepers were also replaced by automated equipment and the careful husbandry of the keepers and their families notable by its absence as the lighthouse now has a neglected appearance that belies its efficient service to passing mariners in a area noted for bad weather and fast flowing tidal streams. A wildlife watcher with his large ‘scope reported plenty of birds to be seen but not a single porpoise, dolphin or whale in sight. Maybe better luck on the way home!!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrb3vN2vwgsl-apqRU9e-9uefcP3Ks5w6Humdp3-TeXiXk36D_pVZhelaJNKVjRHWAvxUpVH5gXMQ4N1dHHH9agL7TFs5WZOUYN6B4RmD0fjNjMwmUMwZ2FhkaWNqinaCN-QL5X9vYCFyF/s1600/P1040703.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" rba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrb3vN2vwgsl-apqRU9e-9uefcP3Ks5w6Humdp3-TeXiXk36D_pVZhelaJNKVjRHWAvxUpVH5gXMQ4N1dHHH9agL7TFs5WZOUYN6B4RmD0fjNjMwmUMwZ2FhkaWNqinaCN-QL5X9vYCFyF/s320/P1040703.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The only ferry passengers!</td></tr>
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Peter on Mullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18237088502986643278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-915709554967620164.post-84978434154848150712012-05-21T14:51:00.000+01:002012-05-21T14:51:12.742+01:00<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis_mN98W50Zg125VuEIasfxdXK_8BuApbs62WYlxO43Ee0ylWi9jaOYdbkBPdmzoSuGhyZEmcwwbgnWhm7jxUIaofqwJmlC2PHmJwss3Rj_nkylx6AeTqefIzuj7GaCE9o1s8aD4pos3De/s1600/P1040562.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis_mN98W50Zg125VuEIasfxdXK_8BuApbs62WYlxO43Ee0ylWi9jaOYdbkBPdmzoSuGhyZEmcwwbgnWhm7jxUIaofqwJmlC2PHmJwss3Rj_nkylx6AeTqefIzuj7GaCE9o1s8aD4pos3De/s200/P1040562.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sula Beag</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0f5iwvHfb3eCN9sBufIcGAnBi0Iu-io1U4G5v-ty9eVbkHqeR2IuMjWZK85z5iDLNkessQQQ7D4Y2oK8aDv3x7jV11FFMMECEN_a7HPosXZ4HzJZI2Rw_Sh6sXYAhO944u8EZMIcL7Vga/s1600/P1040570.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0f5iwvHfb3eCN9sBufIcGAnBi0Iu-io1U4G5v-ty9eVbkHqeR2IuMjWZK85z5iDLNkessQQQ7D4Y2oK8aDv3x7jV11FFMMECEN_a7HPosXZ4HzJZI2Rw_Sh6sXYAhO944u8EZMIcL7Vga/s200/P1040570.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rubha nan Gall Lighthouse</td></tr>
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One of our Christmas presents was a voucher for a wildlife cruise! No, not on a fancy cruise ship to an exotic place but a trip nearer to our home and hearts. We joined the MV Sula Beag, a well appointed passenger launch for a four hour trip from Tobermory round the north coast of our island. We were hoping to see bottle nosed dolphins, minke whales, porpoises, maybe a basking shark, seals, otters and seabirds. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHvzMNz2z1KnZs6gSwFypqnMwltn_4meTxxcihg30qS8urOZi9-bwwqQUr6HYRYMaDlC-i2RB_CpuEe7ERkan7liWIxsqNV3Xk6BUirnlp6G2juscJt2d-FUwvuVNEdo1ArvWYL-gh-OtY/s1600/P1040611.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHvzMNz2z1KnZs6gSwFypqnMwltn_4meTxxcihg30qS8urOZi9-bwwqQUr6HYRYMaDlC-i2RB_CpuEe7ERkan7liWIxsqNV3Xk6BUirnlp6G2juscJt2d-FUwvuVNEdo1ArvWYL-gh-OtY/s200/P1040611.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Plankton trawl results</td></tr>
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The cetaceans were, however, taking the day off so no sightings of them. We saw many species of seabirds, stunning scenery, Glengorm castle from seaward and a number of lighthouses. Rubha nan Gall just shortly after sailing is a conventional tower lighthouse dating from 1857, whilst its neighbour just along the coast is, by contrast, a modern “tin” box erected by the Northern Lighthouse Board in 2003. Ardnamurchan light which we saw to the north of us sits on the most westerly point of the British mainland and will be the subject of a future blog. The light was just right for photography with plenty of subjects waiting to be recorded. The weather was clear enough to see the neighbouring island of Coll and even the smoky outline of South Uist in the Outer Hebrides. The ever-changing light on the Cuillins of Skye to the northward gave them alternately a dark sombre look and a joyous green as the sun broke through the clouds over them.</div>
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Lunch was a picnic on deck in the sunshine whilst the launch was slowly drifting in the entrance to Loch A’ Chumhainn off the hamlet of Croig. Here we looked for otters but none spied though we did see some seals on the rocks. Croig was the landing place years ago for the cattle from the outer isles that were being taken for sale as far away as Smithfield market in London. After being landed they were driven across Mull to Grasspoint, taken by boat to Oban and then walked the five hundred miles or so to the south if buyers could not be found nearer home.</div>
<br />Peter on Mullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18237088502986643278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-915709554967620164.post-1855412302092994582012-05-11T19:04:00.000+01:002012-05-11T19:04:10.181+01:00Bluebells<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1fzHAEfb4aqtMqaB2ZI5PvpURbHfy-XVoKm8jQz9BinuSLHb-g6nd_IIQYKaVCtTehEXP2OR7sWt53ttwrjKryoxW89WUfdtlwH4rcqfQ3GmMDrK_jTOjZaWhh57_cy08FvsyqlWBAD8F/s1600/P1040498.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" dba="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1fzHAEfb4aqtMqaB2ZI5PvpURbHfy-XVoKm8jQz9BinuSLHb-g6nd_IIQYKaVCtTehEXP2OR7sWt53ttwrjKryoxW89WUfdtlwH4rcqfQ3GmMDrK_jTOjZaWhh57_cy08FvsyqlWBAD8F/s320/P1040498.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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“O where and O where does your highland laddie dwell;</div>
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He dwells in merry Scotland where the blue bells sweetly smell,”</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_XWhZz0SLP9SO_01Q6lxxUUss7konenGd8BuuzeLNTZ0DOvu7TPdE5sZHOl3ZkWrWATHCEHw9czLHotAeG-Q7OoFgTCrGq1gJnmyt5SnJtO5eul1Z6xPZnOKieoUnCRKkplmynrbDziXu/s1600/P1040487.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" dba="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_XWhZz0SLP9SO_01Q6lxxUUss7konenGd8BuuzeLNTZ0DOvu7TPdE5sZHOl3ZkWrWATHCEHw9czLHotAeG-Q7OoFgTCrGq1gJnmyt5SnJtO5eul1Z6xPZnOKieoUnCRKkplmynrbDziXu/s320/P1040487.JPG" width="256" /></a></div>
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In spite of the cold wind; the sunshine and showers over the last few days have turned the view from our kitchen window from a mass of green into a mass of azure blue. Yes, the bluebells in the traditional air, have at last shown themselves in abundance, in fact they are popping up in all sorts of places. Until this time last year when the builders were “landscaping” the grounds of our new house it was untouched grassland that had many years ago been the glebeland of the church manse. Top soil on the island is an interesting mixture, we are on volcanic raised beach which means stones and pebbles loosely held together with a fertile brown soil. </div>
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The builders had graded, added imported pebbles, oops I meant to write top soil, and generally stirrred the “soil” with a large JCB digger. Notwithstanding all this treatment the bluebell bulbs somehow survived and are now flowering successfully in unplanned places. The view from the window that I wrote about at the start of the blog, however, is a sort of planned area in that it is under trees where machines could not go, so an old and natural area loved not only by us but by a wide range of nesting birds, the odd rabbit or two but I hasten to add no highland laddie, yet!</div>
<br />Peter on Mullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18237088502986643278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-915709554967620164.post-24923224723233439402012-05-06T11:40:00.000+01:002012-05-06T11:40:36.852+01:00Lemonade<br />
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Before the midge season starts in earnest it is pleasant sitting on the patio in the early evening sunshine enjoying the garden after a day landscaping and planting out. And what better than to sup a glass of wine, or a thirst quenching glass or two of homemade lemonade whilst doing so. The lemonade recipe that I follow was first used in the Crimea War. The French chef Alexis Soyer who lived and worked in London formulated it. He was chef to “high society” and used his influence in high places to improve the standards of Army cooking, even inventing a very efficient cooking stove, so good that it was in use in the British Army until the 1930s. </div>
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I digress, however, so back to making lemonade! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYJX4NtleaAR9Mt9T43ro-6xqAQrMJWNz-_ZW9yCuRXh9b30Xfp3XuFwqZYvDgVh3nFCXdayugUJLVHzD9k8UGYKmShcS2h4sUIvi_Y89yzsQ53WGuCBbRITLSogDuY4sik4xm_GngTrdw/s1600/P1040348.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" mea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYJX4NtleaAR9Mt9T43ro-6xqAQrMJWNz-_ZW9yCuRXh9b30Xfp3XuFwqZYvDgVh3nFCXdayugUJLVHzD9k8UGYKmShcS2h4sUIvi_Y89yzsQ53WGuCBbRITLSogDuY4sik4xm_GngTrdw/s200/P1040348.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI_CRfINvpUUgLSfiQI11O33lh3kaHAppKjoBKVrHDbmD3fT1ka9qvni3wMOBu-679BqI2olWV4KBwZsljNIfH96VqXl06UzHt43t8_AsqS76e0M-z2L9cvP3YoPRPvlmSUw03y5YK4ml2/s1600/P1040355.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" mea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI_CRfINvpUUgLSfiQI11O33lh3kaHAppKjoBKVrHDbmD3fT1ka9qvni3wMOBu-679BqI2olWV4KBwZsljNIfH96VqXl06UzHt43t8_AsqS76e0M-z2L9cvP3YoPRPvlmSUw03y5YK4ml2/s200/P1040355.JPG" width="200" /></a>Take two good sized lemons, cut in half, and over a jug containing two level tablespoons of sugar, turn them “inside out” to release the juice and the fruit pulp. Scrape the lemon skins to add the zest. Take two limes, cut them in half, but before turning them “inside out”, cut two slices from the middle and drop them in the lemon juice. Add a cup full of boiling water, stirring vigorously as you do so. When all the sugar has dissolved top up with cold water, place in the fridge and serve chilled. It will keep fresh as long as refrigerated but as it tends to be popular with visitors I tend to have to make it fresh most days. Home made lemonade is not only tasty, full of vitamin C, it contains no preservatives, colorants or other chemicals beloved of the soft drink makers. A bonus is the use of spring or sparkling water! </div>
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<br /></div>Peter on Mullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18237088502986643278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-915709554967620164.post-67465262589653654132012-05-03T19:26:00.000+01:002012-05-03T19:26:10.743+01:00Waterfalls, Sheep and a Bull<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
On a beautiful sunny day we played at being tourists on our own island and packed a picnic. Our destination was Torloisk on the north west coast along our favourite road on the northern shores of the lochs Na Keal and Tuath.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTuHRLxzVJNpysG6ZhDu6fhQS-CizVXbDmYCznWHaGqSPsaOtlo7NTUdzqepz5gE9BMbEOLVEcqqJwbsmuraSVUOjAW4isa2LMszI_mkR-5Qa1S6lXRlesO7WP7JvXgIJYKbqbqtrP1p4i/s1600/P1040419.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" mea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTuHRLxzVJNpysG6ZhDu6fhQS-CizVXbDmYCznWHaGqSPsaOtlo7NTUdzqepz5gE9BMbEOLVEcqqJwbsmuraSVUOjAW4isa2LMszI_mkR-5Qa1S6lXRlesO7WP7JvXgIJYKbqbqtrP1p4i/s320/P1040419.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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The first stop was to explore the Eas Fors waterfalls. The burn that generates the waterfalls drops down the mountainside with some force. Rock strewn cataracts break the flow at two levels, one above the road bridge and one below. The final spectacular drop in over the cliff edge to the beach about a hundred feet below! It is a frustrating falls to photograph, as there is no access to the beach for an upward looking shot. Then we decided to stretch our legs and walked along the road to Kilbrennan watched by inquisitive ewes with their new lambs, and a number of deer happily grazing in the sunlit fields. </div>
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For our picnic we decided to drive on a short way, leave the Land Rover in an old quarry and walk to a secluded beach known at Traigh na Cille. This was a good idea, as on the way we found strawberry plants for sale at a roadside stand complete with honesty box. So we put our money in the box and the plants in the Land Rover.</div>
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Our plan to walk to the beach was changed by a large black highland bull guarding the track to the beach! Now we both know that Highland bulls are not normally aggressive but discretion was deemed to be better than valour, so we retreated carefully and found a sunlit wooded glade at the start of the track for our picnic. <br />
As we finished our food there was a rustling sound just above us. Lo and behold one inquisitive black bull, he had decided that if we did not want to see him <br />
he would come to us!<br />
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<br />Peter on Mullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18237088502986643278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-915709554967620164.post-5858101979103589432012-04-27T18:28:00.000+01:002012-04-27T18:28:37.065+01:00Kilvickeon<div style="text-align: justify;">
I seem to have neglected my blog in recent days not through lack of interest but because of a very busy life out and about the island, and working in garden and workshop. The stories of some of these activities will surface here, but first I must allocate time to write them!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji4UA9e0ZTWoe_WDEcyktIyHtN-1xaKDF8OVaW0JUZeQeB-LylUdAK4RL3JfxO0L3Ik3RVkqpfj1lGEPR93fQ8e9bBgsy6uZ0aS5tZtUJ_5cYAEr_87oFEYIjSxpN-lYiVjlrR7ibohfMR/s1600/P1040340.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji4UA9e0ZTWoe_WDEcyktIyHtN-1xaKDF8OVaW0JUZeQeB-LylUdAK4RL3JfxO0L3Ik3RVkqpfj1lGEPR93fQ8e9bBgsy6uZ0aS5tZtUJ_5cYAEr_87oFEYIjSxpN-lYiVjlrR7ibohfMR/s320/P1040340.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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One of the activities keeping me away from the computer was the day in beautiful sunny weather we joined up with members of the island’s historical society to visit the site of a ruined church and its graveyard that two of the members are in the process of documenting. The day was not just a visit to a heap of old stones down on the Ross of Mull!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>First we met for a picnic lunch at the Ross of Mull Heritage Centre. This is based at the old water mill and its miller’s cottage in Bunessan. The heritage centre gives a fascinating insight into life on the Ross of Mull in Victorian times though on this occasion not enough time to look at all the exhibits, so a mental note to visit again. So off to the ruins we went in a convoy of vehicles along a road that turned into a track and progressively was more potholes than track as we wended our way along the shore of Loch Assapol to the site of the old township of Kilvickeon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The ancients certainly knew where to live in that splendid scenery and bury their dead. When you have to go I cannot think of a nicer place overlooking a beautiful loch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The church is now no more that an open topped ruin, it was built in the 13<sup>th</sup> century and dedicated to the son of Eoghan, a nephew of St.Columba of nearby Iona. It was last used as a church in 1804; however, the graveyard has quite recent graves. These are marked with a variety of headstones, ranging from granite, marble and surprisingly cast iron.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The cast iron I thought unusual so I took some notes of the markings to see what I could find out. They were cast at the Etna Foundry in Glasgow some time between 1850 and 1880.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though the casters name and number were on the back of the marker, strangely it seemed the graves occupant was not mentioned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Research told me that it would have been painted on and obviously had weathered off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The ruin has a small carving, quite rare, called a sheela na gig.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These are quasi-erotic carvings usually of a grotesque old woman and are thought to be of pagan origin so strange to find it in a church wall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The day ended with a meeting back in Bunessan Bakehouse to enjoy homemade scones and jam. A perfect end to the day!</div>Peter on Mullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18237088502986643278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-915709554967620164.post-88395898538490782562012-04-18T09:00:00.000+01:002012-04-18T09:00:01.778+01:00An Evening at the Theatre<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr-pMnuc38ZrQYi4mAbpXhTMwbeXHQMqMlmRjg3FXwUafR5w7_nt-nGL5bHAFBBmZdpx6R1WFX1aaZv41KrTzH_LurPK0cXfjt3Vzes-5ChdakbawnIVmVHd-WRTTkrKJHfet_ihckw8VW/s1600/P1040307.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 112px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732420478982701458" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr-pMnuc38ZrQYi4mAbpXhTMwbeXHQMqMlmRjg3FXwUafR5w7_nt-nGL5bHAFBBmZdpx6R1WFX1aaZv41KrTzH_LurPK0cXfjt3Vzes-5ChdakbawnIVmVHd-WRTTkrKJHfet_ihckw8VW/s200/P1040307.JPG" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1GtZ3kumbA_A5fzQV_DiUhI9nANBEhSi8hc7qTcaVFT7CN73Da8mAB7RUv08l-ieuRNkV0llMe5G2dN_BIROw29YzNOMG63-HTgcZvGseAWynZ4Dmrg0IEw21jMTEDIDCEk4s-tlv-OCe/s1600/P1040303.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 148px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732420471436944034" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1GtZ3kumbA_A5fzQV_DiUhI9nANBEhSi8hc7qTcaVFT7CN73Da8mAB7RUv08l-ieuRNkV0llMe5G2dN_BIROw29YzNOMG63-HTgcZvGseAWynZ4Dmrg0IEw21jMTEDIDCEk4s-tlv-OCe/s200/P1040303.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjimBhIIExZISr1BfQHo4juK5vDmoDO9zmn7xmGvaS4nHY8b68S49hINyMr6XhP0tw1hUyDvL5RvyPAehaXWGa_loQex079U6OqTk3Iybj32wCt9HI2VNuir5LyVtjcYDagM6hU2hfu_H1Q/s1600/Mull+Theatre+inside.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 133px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732420462313999074" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjimBhIIExZISr1BfQHo4juK5vDmoDO9zmn7xmGvaS4nHY8b68S49hINyMr6XhP0tw1hUyDvL5RvyPAehaXWGa_loQex079U6OqTk3Iybj32wCt9HI2VNuir5LyVtjcYDagM6hU2hfu_H1Q/s200/Mull+Theatre+inside.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZNxUR21yFk9EobiM5rzSVsPtp6mOrI43K2M-u-V7POq2KBeknT2w38AlhQ7A80ciVrfW5iwtXSD3CUG9U26YMnbWYICDlov4SK6H8tE2tH3keWEzWFtXowR6ETwENTJlB38Qca_IpkRQp/s1600/Scotaland+1.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 161px; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732420464993293186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZNxUR21yFk9EobiM5rzSVsPtp6mOrI43K2M-u-V7POq2KBeknT2w38AlhQ7A80ciVrfW5iwtXSD3CUG9U26YMnbWYICDlov4SK6H8tE2tH3keWEzWFtXowR6ETwENTJlB38Qca_IpkRQp/s200/Scotaland+1.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><div align="justify">The island may not have theme parks, trendy pubs or funfairs but is well known for its wildlife and scenery. What may not be so well known is the Mull Theatre at Druimfin, near Tobermory. So what could be better than the scenic drive from home along the Sound of Mull in the evening sunshine to the theatre? It is housed in a new building that nestles in a wooded valley just off the main road into town. We were going to see Andy Cannon in a production called Scota-land. Andy wrote, directed and was the storyteller. The production was not on a stage but in a fictitious island museum where we, the audience, sat on chairs, lounged on exhibits, the children attending sitting at the storyteller’s feet, all in fact part of the play. The props were believable as was the story that I will not spoil by relating. An excellent evening’s entertainment and as it was a preview before going on tour it was free!<br />Mull Theatre, surprisingly, is rated as one of Scotland’s busiest and most successful theatre companies, producing a mixture of drama, new work, revivals, children’s theatre, contemporary and classic Scottish and international plays. The Theatre Company has already created several new productions and hosted around sixty performances by theatre and dance companies from around the world. Though the theatre has conventional tiered seating and a stage, it can be configured for other settings. Last summer we spent an evening watching a play that used acrobats and high wire work, some of it in the open air on the theatre forecourt complete with midges! We are booked for more visits during the coming season and while they won’t free again, the bar is help yourself and make a donation!!! Seriously, I’m sure they make far more profit this way and is all part of the lovely relaxed but professional attitude.<br />The theatre have a good website so if you want to know more about the theatre, or the production “Scota-land” that we attended go to <a href="http://www.mulltheatre.com/">http://www.mulltheatre.com/</a> for more information. </div></div></div></div>Peter on Mullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18237088502986643278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-915709554967620164.post-78199763049767672262012-04-14T11:35:00.002+01:002012-04-14T11:42:46.097+01:00Sustainable Timber<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGxLpRzVKtYk8SOp3TB1b1Aq3jYb0tsHz7e9lWtaCQ-ataoa_r48s1J2enCKGzet0XlzBl8N5rVez2bKPOa8ui0OfL5NwjYHl3CxoTvhybuW8xgzRjDKVLGscjet3ME7OIBuarYbPXsD9G/s1600/P1040299.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5731204432173739314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGxLpRzVKtYk8SOp3TB1b1Aq3jYb0tsHz7e9lWtaCQ-ataoa_r48s1J2enCKGzet0XlzBl8N5rVez2bKPOa8ui0OfL5NwjYHl3CxoTvhybuW8xgzRjDKVLGscjet3ME7OIBuarYbPXsD9G/s200/P1040299.JPG" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie42PIUd8Z9AnS1ntRf5LUKU1ndWG8KCJZHsUyCd01flQ_EwFEYW0e_poHiMD2_KFV0ih5SmvIPXdh29PlJWWnbJYMTvKjHQa_qsCq0oLkngkK2RzN1Ou_y83Y4uz_c9z226ggWGrsjUx5/s1600/P1040298.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5731204420817247810" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie42PIUd8Z9AnS1ntRf5LUKU1ndWG8KCJZHsUyCd01flQ_EwFEYW0e_poHiMD2_KFV0ih5SmvIPXdh29PlJWWnbJYMTvKjHQa_qsCq0oLkngkK2RzN1Ou_y83Y4uz_c9z226ggWGrsjUx5/s200/P1040298.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtSvcxEM8EaawLFjZseyKfiVGsCDDQxhKQUin2FfdTKeBPtQYpMDdp0xXfPPlpPJnlwwdpPv1dSn0w4z5sZe-Sq9sOrvqtS7FIOX7Sgp9yq_0rP6YTAakbrGkzdMsA-kP1hovHbu90KoY2/s1600/P1040297.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5731204412569875986" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtSvcxEM8EaawLFjZseyKfiVGsCDDQxhKQUin2FfdTKeBPtQYpMDdp0xXfPPlpPJnlwwdpPv1dSn0w4z5sZe-Sq9sOrvqtS7FIOX7Sgp9yq_0rP6YTAakbrGkzdMsA-kP1hovHbu90KoY2/s200/P1040297.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg61-WnXiWfMI1NqPzvrb5Y7ps-dJb2HfqAT11DxID6ryWjzaJEU2cWtS8lb7ANA50eBuG1bvNil2OYs5_HGqsaP-zeJkKgQmPxAD26E9jAhMiTC58EEdk1kx0_PkuswqQHIZBRCQy0qivp/s1600/P1040266.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5731204406620573058" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg61-WnXiWfMI1NqPzvrb5Y7ps-dJb2HfqAT11DxID6ryWjzaJEU2cWtS8lb7ANA50eBuG1bvNil2OYs5_HGqsaP-zeJkKgQmPxAD26E9jAhMiTC58EEdk1kx0_PkuswqQHIZBRCQy0qivp/s200/P1040266.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><br /><div align="justify">I have already written about the times that we spend on our beaches walking, watching wildlife and gathering seaweed, but not about collecting the timber that gets washed up. So a recent find of a good straight birch tree trunk was a bonus, especially as it appeared not to have been in the water too long. It was also reasonably accessible and just about fitted in the Land Rover. Now getting wet timber off a beach on a rainy day is not everyone’s idea of fun, but for me a way to get interesting raw materials for my wood turning. To my way of thinking any piece of native hardwood is of interest if it is reasonably straight, more that more than 30 cm long and 15cm in diameter, and if it has an interesting grain then so much the better. My aim is to always, if possible, use waste timber so I am always looking out for “useful” pieces of timber. My sources are varied, in addition to driftwood, there are discarded chunks lying in forest undergrowth, storm damaged trees on farmland and in friends and neighbours gardens. The island is well wooded with about twenty per cent of its 338 square miles planted and harvested by the Forestry Commission. The Forestry Commission plantations are mainly spruce and larch that are of little interest to wood turners. Recent and current replanting programmes will bring back native hardwoods but in the main the small woodlands tucked in river valleys and glens are of much more interest to me, being a mixture of oak, ash, hazel, and birch. Beech and sycamore are occasionally available but these species tend to be in plantations near the larger houses of the then gentry. Our own garden in the grounds of what was the manse built in 1798, is typical with a mixture of mature conifer and deciduous trees. So windfall branches are an occasional near to hand source. I cut the timber into pieces easy to handle and then usually store it in the log store to dry out naturally. Some pieces I turn in the “wet” condition usually as a bowl shape and leave to dry out before finishing. Sometimes the blanks dries out without deforming, other times it splits and is condemned to the firewood box along with unusable timber and my mistakes. No wood goes to waste and the trees continue to offer me raw materials. </div></div></div></div>Peter on Mullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18237088502986643278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-915709554967620164.post-90013189041265796172012-04-06T10:55:00.004+01:002012-04-06T11:05:12.491+01:00Happy Easter !!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb_aAxf5yA83B2VYyQSbsTeTrJwom0myUTzXGdsFP83T3rkD5epAtMPi0PsujMFfMjjjYN2p6ovaNY5eTsVP11AcCAnc_GbZ4m8e76AC2OcI5oS1xicP5umSw9PZZKTkDFBpRxWQkx62uN/s1600/P1030732.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5728226426113642930" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb_aAxf5yA83B2VYyQSbsTeTrJwom0myUTzXGdsFP83T3rkD5epAtMPi0PsujMFfMjjjYN2p6ovaNY5eTsVP11AcCAnc_GbZ4m8e76AC2OcI5oS1xicP5umSw9PZZKTkDFBpRxWQkx62uN/s320/P1030732.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQMNfBnvh_0mQyRiWfa_xsLx4Vgfyt7CPgPA-pAnA659ktohLiyuwNB9htQJP9k4TZGzDRx-ctt5WACvEzTRO21Jn_8hQ7KU8uqQe5eu-Eienc-T4V0VSeIH9snqKNd6rxrjeJfvtEY_D-/s1600/P1030047.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 225px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5728225479074981298" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQMNfBnvh_0mQyRiWfa_xsLx4Vgfyt7CPgPA-pAnA659ktohLiyuwNB9htQJP9k4TZGzDRx-ctt5WACvEzTRO21Jn_8hQ7KU8uqQe5eu-Eienc-T4V0VSeIH9snqKNd6rxrjeJfvtEY_D-/s400/P1030047.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>Happy Easter fellow bloggers. The island is gearing up for visitors! Calmac have changed to summer ferry schedules, which means more crossings to and from Oban each day. This means an increase in the number of cars on the island which can be interesting as visitors unused to the etiquette of single track road driving find locals seemingly on a suicide mission driving straight for them before diving into a passing place to allow the visitor right of way usually with a cheery wave and smile. The campsite in the village has its first hardy campers. An early morning walk from tent to toilet block with the easterly wind and a temperature of 3 degrees C must test the resolve of even the hardened camper.<br />The Eagle hide is open at its new site at Glen Seilisder with Ranger accompanied trips twice a day. We will find time to go in the quiet period between Easter and Spring Bank Holiday. Mull is a place of eco tourism, so as well as bird hides we have people who specialise in wildlife tours by boat or minibus. The boats for whale, dolphin and sea bird watching, whilst the minibuses tour the island roads looking for birds (eagles and hawks) and mammals (deer and otters). There has in the past been some controversy about the wildlife tour operators blocking passing places and sometimes stopping in the middle of the single tracks when an interesting bird is spotted. But we can all be guilty of a quick “stop and stare” at our wonderful wildlife, so keeping an eye on the rear view mirror usually keeps the traffic flowing.Eating establishments closed for the winter are re-opening giving visitors and islanders a wider choice of menus. So even on this small island there are the opportunities to eat a variety of cuisines from traditional Scottish fare including locally caught fish to Mediterranean menus plus the inevitable Indian and Chinese meals. Many of the restaurants have spectacular views, for example we will probably lunch with our visitors at the Western Isles Hotel on Easter Sunday high up above Tobermory looking out down the Sound of Mull.</div></div>Peter on Mullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18237088502986643278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-915709554967620164.post-57525049548348047682012-04-02T17:10:00.001+01:002012-04-02T17:10:00.603+01:00Reflections<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6WqD4jCqDJUL_W_rp4W10JgEK1H-vaBiprFIMnox_xV6GurbQYUcZXJ1BuhLafgXUWlPi2SLLVur1MoZ4cXAyhIwtow76cOWvWAiAh9vyS59DsM9AR-onvIMW3awk_CI26pLmbBQf1e2K/s1600/P1040255.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5726758037996752290" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6WqD4jCqDJUL_W_rp4W10JgEK1H-vaBiprFIMnox_xV6GurbQYUcZXJ1BuhLafgXUWlPi2SLLVur1MoZ4cXAyhIwtow76cOWvWAiAh9vyS59DsM9AR-onvIMW3awk_CI26pLmbBQf1e2K/s320/P1040255.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_DePCQfBmI82mI0GpZRzaH36KaOrXq50mjXmtWFNAJqGzbN3rL6BlNlSmRINwXxRlWmc37qwcuqU3cebH6K2O9AxE9qR8D3B1ooCeTc7SGg1vEtt-xgbwWHgPLp9ysNfxUtfIYZghcjdw/s1600/P1040252.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5726758032381445714" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_DePCQfBmI82mI0GpZRzaH36KaOrXq50mjXmtWFNAJqGzbN3rL6BlNlSmRINwXxRlWmc37qwcuqU3cebH6K2O9AxE9qR8D3B1ooCeTc7SGg1vEtt-xgbwWHgPLp9ysNfxUtfIYZghcjdw/s320/P1040252.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEkjgGPX9DpdpuKZ50GZF-6TKUvmt7Z5Nvab6ONXgcn1qKrewzcrzj8SnShs_xQ6qnjgeXkC5FgX079CCkhRSjTomxiutdRwMi9FTu57jcQCsradVcWE0-sq-UyluxPfnCP1r2RtK4L2Uu/s1600/P1040250.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5726758017361419362" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEkjgGPX9DpdpuKZ50GZF-6TKUvmt7Z5Nvab6ONXgcn1qKrewzcrzj8SnShs_xQ6qnjgeXkC5FgX079CCkhRSjTomxiutdRwMi9FTu57jcQCsradVcWE0-sq-UyluxPfnCP1r2RtK4L2Uu/s320/P1040250.JPG" /></a>It does not take much persuasion for us to go on one of our favourite walks along the banks of the River Lussa. Sunday was, however, a special day as it was the 121st anniversary of the death of the Welsh Pedlar, John Jones. I have already told his story in a previous blog (<em>Memorial to a warm hearted pedlar on 5th February</em>). We had decided that a nice touch would be to plant a few marigold seeds, from our previous Welsh garden, at the grave site near Pedlars Pool. On a cool afternoon we parked the Land Rover at the usual place and walked the old road alongside the river to the grave site. The trees were starting to show their early leaf growth, though the oak trees are still dormant. Under the trees there were violets, primroses and wood anemones in flower with the promise of bluebells to come. We carefully planted a few pockets of seed and reflected on how it came to pass that a Welshman died so far from his native land. We sat on the bluff overlooking the river enjoying the tranquillity and the reflections of a massive oak tree in the almost still river water. An eagle soared above the mountain ridge of An t-Sleaghach to the east of us. Although too far away to positively identify, it was probably a Golden Eagle rather than the White tailed Sea Eagle that we see at home. At the other end of the scale of bird size a tiny but busy wren worked away de-grubbing a nearby tree stump. I have always liked the Latin name for a wren <em>Troglodytes Troglodytes</em> that I believe means cave dweller. The one that we were watching was more likely to be a tree dweller as many of the old trees exhibit suitable holes and hollows just right for a wren’s nest site. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div>Peter on Mullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18237088502986643278noreply@blogger.com0