Isle of Barra
There’s something very appealing about escaping to a crofter’s
cottage in the north of Scotland. It is
good for me to break away from the rat race and the negative trappings of
modern living from time to time. I would
love to spend all winter up there with snow and freezing winds then come
indoors to the warming glow of a peat fire and wholesome, home-made food. Wishful thinking, I know, but I’m fortunate
enough to have stayed in some sympathetically renovated ones with electricity
and running water and nothing could be more perfect.
Years ago, driving westward along the north coast of
Scotland, not too far from John O’Groats, I came to Dunnet Head and what I
would call a living museum, Mary-Ann’s Cottage, which is open to the public for
guided tours at limited times. The crofter’s cottage is exactly as Mary-Ann
left it and is a fascinating insight into her life. If you like social history,
I strongly recommend a visit if your travels take you anywhere near.
I like to be ‘off the beaten track’ and Harbour Cottage on
the Isle of Barra (my photo) certainly provided everything I wished for in May
this year. A wonderful, stone built cottage with ground floor walls at least
three feet thick and a fireplace, not that we needed to make a log fire in the
unusually warm climate. Lovingly
renovated and extended to make three first floor bedrooms and a sun lounge,
Harbour Cottage was a delightful holiday home. I have the same opinion of the
fabulous, tiny crofter’s cottage in Lochboisdale, South Uist last year, (my
photo). I would happily return, but there are other places to see first.
My favourite lodges in Dumfries and Galloway are a home from
home and somewhere I go to for a break at least twice a year. This year it will
be three visits and would have been four if one of my chosen times hadn’t
clashed with work. They are not exactly cottages, but get unpacked and settled,
and the feeling is just the same, relaxed, cosy and free.
My poem, written after a stay at a cottage near Gairloch,
North West Scotland,
I’ll Take the High
Road
Sun-yellow
gorse meets a bright blue sky
Where
mountains seem low and clouds are high.
Single
track, crumbled edge, shared with sheep,
The
drop is sharp, the climb is steep
Then
dips to touch the shore of the loch
Where
gentle waves lick tumbled rock.
Then
swift ascent and a chance to pause,
Admire
the view and brown-heather’d moors.
Mile
after slate-grey mile and some more,
Then,
at last, we reach our cottage door.
The
road ends where the loch becomes sea,
Dolphins
are playing and I feel free.
1 comments:
I've shared your yearning for frequent escapes from the rat race to something simpler. Your blog struck a chord and I thought the poem was delightfully crafted. Thank you.
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