Hebridean Journal April 2014: Part 3 - A Coastal Walk on South Uist

A very relaxed start to the day pottering around a local graveyard with some interesting monuments and then we headed to South Uist for a visit to a folk museum and an afternoon 6 mile walk.

The walk took us out to the westernmost point of South Uist, Rubha Aird a' Mhuile, which is a grassy peninsula with a loch at its heart and vast beaches stretching off both north and south. On our way we visited some interesting archaeological remains (a Norse site which was just an array of lumps and bumps, an Iron Age broch and an 18th century castle with an unfortunate history) and passed through an area teaming with sea and coastal birds.

As well as the sights all around us, underfoot for most of the time was a very rare type of grassland - the machair. This is a zone at the back of the dunes and is a rich mixture of sand and peat, much fertilised over the generations by layers of seaweed. It is unique to north-west Europe and some 70% of this is found in Benbecula and the Uists. It hosts an abundance of wild flowers, birds and insects and is a naturalist's paradise.

We were hoping that we'd finish off the day with a meal at a recommended hotel but it didn't quite turn out as planned. When we got to the hotel and discovered that food was not being served as most of the staff were out looking for a lost cow! I hope they came across her and were able to reunite her with her new-born calf. That, at least, would be some compensation for the pretty average pubby meal we ended up having on our way back to the B & B. There really isn't much choice when it comes to dining out in this part of the world.

A tapestry of colour in Nunton Graveyard on Benbecula. Dandelions, lesser celandines, daisies and primroses.

This is the place where Flora MacDonald, of Bonnie Prince Charlie fame, lived as a child - alledgedly. Except that then she was known by the less romantic name of Flory Milton.

 

Sea, rocky beach, sandy beach and mountains - now that's what I call scenic variety.

 

I watched these two seals for a while and became convinced that the one in the water was trying to persuade the other one to come and play, to no avail. Lounging about in the sun was obviously more attractive than frolicking in the sea.

 

Regular readers of this blog will not be surprised by my interest in fence posts. The wonder of this one is how they managed to keep it upright in such sandy soil with so little bracing. Not a job that will last, methinks. Amateurs!

How about this for a beach?  And, look, no people! If you look carefully, you may just be able to make out a buzzard sitting on a post.

Ideally placed for those walkers who get caught short whilst on this part of the coast. Given the cuts in public conveniences 'back home', perhaps this is an idea that should be adopted by Cornwall Council.

Towards the end of the walk we came across the ruin of Caisteal Ormacleit. By some accounts it may well have been the last castle to be built in Scotland. Built around 1700 and burnt down in 1715, it didn't last intact that long. It's not possible to go inside as the structure is unsafe and also a private house is built on to the side of it.

A very common flower in Cornwall: at this time of year the hedgerows are awash with them. They are Lady's Smock or the Cuckoo Flower (Cardamine pratensis). I came across this single plant in the middle of a very large field and was puzzled at its solitude. The star/cross shape of its 4 petals is very characteristic of the Crucifers.

There are two unusual things about this photograph. The first is the fact that it's as well focussed as any flower shot I've taken with my compact camera. The second is the plant itself: known variously as the Sea Pansy, Dune Pansy, Sand Pansy or Wild Pansy. Its Latin name is Viola tricolor ssp curtisii and comes in blue/violet, yellow and white - and mixtures in-between. It's not a rare plant in the UK but is restricted mainly to north-western coastal areas. I find it a lovely little flower to behold.

 

Hebridean Journal April 2014: Part 2 - Island Hopping

This post should have been Part 3 of our Hebridean Odyssey but a press of the wrong computer key completely erased the planned Part 2 just as I was about to publish it. A great shame as it described our first full day in which we had a 6 mile walk up and around the Udal Peninsular in North Uist. I haven't the energy to rewrite it but believe me it was a good place to be. To continue......

Yesterday we headed north so today we headed south, with our route encompassing the following islands: Benbecular to South Uist (causeway), South Uist to Eriskay (causeway), Eriskay to Barra (ferry) and Barra to Vattersay (causeway).

Our walk for the day took us to the west side of Barra and into the hills at Allathasdal. A six miler which was not quite as described in our route guide with more ups and bogs than expected. Notwithstanding these minor inconveniences, it was yet another good day for getting out and about. And I'm uploading this right now, before I press yet another wrong key.

There were two things that intrigued me about this sign in the Barra ferry waiting room. Firstly: the strange positioning of the apostrophe in the header. I can't make any sense of the logic behind this one. Secondly: I like the vagueness of the closing time and presume that the regular customers know what 8-ish means.

I like the matter-of-factness of the intra-island ferries. An extremely efficient operation whenever we've used them and what better way to get from one island to another? In fact, in most cases, they are the only way.

This huge tidal cockle beach on Barra doubles up as the airport landing strip. In the true sense of the word, this is unique.

Watching the planes land and take-off is an unusual spectacle, particularly as the plane ploughs through some pools of sea water raising loads of spray from the wheels.

An interesting old graveyard at Cille Barra. In one corner, in a protective building, were four Norse graves with some interesting carved stone covers. Visiting this graveyard introduced us to the fact that Barra was very much a Catholic island, as was South Uist but not Benbecula or North Uist.

At several places on our walk we came across the ruins of houses deserted during the clearances of the mid-19th century. Given their number, it was clear that this area sustained quite a large population at one time.

A view of the surrounding countryside with the ever-present sea in the background.

Two old ruins - the most notable being the remains of the Neolithic chambered cairn.

 A sheep carcass stripped clean, most probably, by some raptors. Eagles , both Golden and White-tailed, are quite common around here, as are hen harriers, merlins, peregrines, short-eared owls and buzzards. Take your pick - as they did.

Kisimul Castle in the bay just off Castlebay. It's been the stronghold of the McNeil clan since the 11th century. Currently it has been leased by the clan chief to Historic Scotland for a 1000 years at a peppercorn rent. It is open for visitors but we were just too late.

I wonder what way they'll be voting in the Independence Referendum come September? The needs of Barra seem a very long way from Westminster and the prospect of more local control over their affairs has got to be very appealing. Although we did not get into any detailed political debates with anyone, I sensed that the mood was more towards "yes" than "no".

And with the sun setting in the west, we finish an excellent day with an equally excellent meal at the Polochar Inn on South Uist.

Hebridean Journal April 2014: Part 1 - Some thoughts on the wing about the Independence vote

It seems that everyone is being asked what they feel about the forthcoming referendum on Scottish independence. Although I don't live there and won't be voting, I do have an opinion on the matter as it could have serious implications for the rest of the UK. And as we are just about to spend a few days on Benbecula in the Outer Hebrides, what better time could there be to inflict my opinion on you?

I'll start by making my position clear: if I were a Scot faced with the binary choice on the September ballot paper, I'd be voting "yes" to independence. But I'd be holding my nose as I did so. Why? Because I'd be voting "yes" to escape from an England (Wales and Northern Ireland do not feature in the debate at all) likely to be dominated by a right-wing London-centric view for a long while yet. But I wouldn't be voting for the constitutional model that I think should be on offer. Whereas I accept fully the need to move decision making closer to the people, I don't accept that forming a new nation state, as would be the result of a vote for independence, is the best way of bringing this about. I believe, very strongly, that our present mode of government is flawed and is no longer truly in touch with the electorate. There are many reasons why this is the case but I'll mention only one: the UK is now too populous and too varied to be governed effectively from the centre. I think that we should be seriously considering moving towards, for want of a better description, a 'federation of UK units'. Let Scotland have more say over its affairs, by all means, but extend the same consideration to Wales, Northen Ireland and, for example, the North East, the South West, the Home Counties etc. Under this model, many of the functions of government would be devolved to 'regional parliaments' and there decisions could be made which would better reflect the views and needs of that particular region. I'll admit that I haven't thought this through completely or researched it to any depth but I am certain that it offers a viable alternative to the present 'one size fits all' orthodoxy emanating from London.

And what's so wrong with that, I hear you ask? Well, the London orthodoxy is that markets should drive social and economic development, that competition is the primary engine for that development and that the role of the state is to give the market its head and merely moderate its worst failings. We have seen the cost of those policies. We have seen a huge gap develop between rich and poor; we have seen the promotion of low-pay industries and poor-quality jobs but high corporate profits; we have seen governments of all shades (hang your heads in shame, Blair and Brown) bow to the demands of the bankers; we have seen markets and the profit motive introduced into the provision of fundamental, essential services, such as health and education, to their detriment. We have seen the privatisation of utilities on the promise of competitive pricing, only to find that we are captive consumers to price-fixing cartel. We have seen virtually everything turned into a commodity and completely forgotten the concept of the common good. Hooray to Scotland for holding out on university fees and for still providing excellent social care for the elderly. Is it any wonder that they want to do more of the same without the right wing shackles of the masters of the neo-liberal doctrine from south of the Border? To come back to the referendum, the reasons may be right but the choice is wrong - but that's all that's on offer. Under the circumstances, I would have great difficulty voting "no".

(Finished on the flight from Glasgow to Benbecula)

Things Jamaican

I'm sort of watching the latest BBC bodice ripper - Jamaica Inn. To those of us living close to where it's ostensibly located, it's an interesting experience. Kirkby Lonsdale in Yorkshire doubling as Launceston, views of moors unrecognisable to those of us who tramp Bodmin Moor regularly, chronological anachronisms and accents that were formed a thousand miles from Cornwall mumbled incoherently. Not my thing but I can understand why it seems to be popular. Actually, that's not true - I can't understand its popularity but what do I know?

Amongst the cast, that fine actress, Joanne Whalley, plays Aunt Patience but, to me, she looks all wrong. Is it her too-tidy hair? Is it her too-clean skin? No, it's her teeth, which could not be less early 19th century if they tried. However, on the plus side, her shining white molars do come in useful at times. The drama is so gloomy that, most of the time, it's difficult making out the characters on screen. But it's always possible to see Aunt Patience by her gleaming gnashers. They illuminate the screen like a beacon and I'm left wondering why her husband, Joss Merlyn, doesn't use her to lure the laden ships on to the rocks in readiness for plundering. Her toothy smile can easily do the work of his lanterns and save him goodness knows how much in lamp oil.

And whilst we are musing on themes Jamaican, have you ever tried Cadbury's 'Old Jamaica' chocolate bar? The wrapper proudly claims this is “Raisins and rum flavoured dark chocolate” and the advertising blurb has this evocative prose: "Rums and raisins were two favourite stowaways on-board the ships of the merchant adventurer. With a similar taste for adventure Bournville sought out the richest source of cocoa beans in Ghana in 1908. Still using cocoa beans shipped from Ghana and the much loved raisins and rum flavours, Bournville is proud to unveil a new twist on an old favourite "Old Jamaica" . Whatever the 'new twist' is, it certainly hasn't improved the flavour. Nostalgia whacked me on the back of the head recently when I saw it displayed in our local supermarket and I just had to find out if it tasted the same as I remember it from way back. Sadly I was disappointed.

In actual fact, it contains no real rum, and it’s hardly dark chocolate. A quick look at the back of the pack reveals that it contains only 39% cocoa solids, with 18% raisins and – oddly – milk fat. The label also shows that total sugars in this bar are 14 g per 25g of chocolate. Ouch! So what we actually get is “raisins with some dark-coloured milk chocolate, lots of sugar and some artificial flavour”. It’s quite difficult to get a handle on the chocolate flavour because the sweet, fake alcohol overpowers it entirely. I’m at a bit of a loss as to how they manage to squeeze so much sugar and artificial rum into such a small space. The really annoying thing about this bar, though, is that it’s just so moreish. Despite the fact that I really didn’t like it, I found myself breaking off chunks every couple of minutes and wolfing them down. Deservedly I felt sick afterwards. No more Old Jamaica for me and I would suggest that lovers of decent chocolate give it a miss as well. Treat yourself to a decent 80 - 90% cocoa solids bar instead: you know it makes sense.

A walk from Grenofen Bridge along the Walkham and Tavy rivers

Last Thursday, in glorious weather a group of us did the 'Grenofen Walk'.  Starting at Grenofen Bridge, twixt Tavistock and Yelverton on the western edge of Dartmoor, we headed up the Walkham River valley for a mile or so, then over the top of the downs to come down onto the Tavy just downstream from Doublewaters. We then followed the Tavy/Walkham back to our starting point. It's a delightful and relatively easy 6 miles. With good weather, lots to see and pleasant company, it was a great way to spend a few hours.  And, guess what? No mud!

Moss, ferns and lichen festoon the branch of this oak tree. Good signs of unpolluted air. 

Things found by the Wayside Part 99: The cross read ' In fond memory of Darren'. No date and no other details. The flowers were fresh and must have been placed there that morning. A bow of the head for Darren.

Going up the side of the Walkham River. It's hard to imagine that just a few weeks ago the path to the right would have been under several feet of flood water.

Underneath the Gem Bridge which was opened in 2012, one of the final pieces of the Tavistock to Plymouth cycleway/footpath. It stands in the valley where Brunel’s original Walkham Viaduct was built in 1859 as part of the Plymouth to Tavistock to Launceston railway. It was Brunel’s longest Devon viaduct and was demolished, I believe, in the 1960s.

A stop for coffee on the Common. Note the blue sky! I shudder to think what the combined age of this lot is. It's got to be approaching a millennium. Gulp!

I did not realise that I'd captured this buzzard sitting on a telephone wire until I'd enlarged the photograph - hence the fact that it's a little grainy.

Lots of the common dog violet (Viola riviniana) throughout the route. It's unscented and that, apparently, is the origin of the name 'dog violet; to distinguish it from the scented 'sweet violet'. The spur at the back of the flower is another clue to the fact that it's a dog violet. On the dog violet the spur is a slightly paler blue than the flower and has a distinctive notch at its tip. The nectar of the flower is located deep in the spur and it is a commonly held view that the prominent striations act as a guide for pollinating insects. My flora tells me that the entire plant is edible, and that in some parts of Europe, violets are used to make popular spring salads. I have tasted the leaves and there's not a lot there to tempt the tastebuds. 

Oooh look, a ditch.  But not any old ditch, this one. It's actually the boundary of a circular enclosure thought to be at least 2000 years old.

And if you need convincing, take a look at this aerial view from Google Earth. Still intact and still in use after all that time. Just in case you are wondering, it's not known what it's original function was. Defensive, ceremonial, grazing - take your pick.

Looking out from the entrance to the Virtuous Lady mine. Named after Queen Elizabeth I, this mine operated, off and on, from the mid 1500s up to the mid 1800s. We didn't go too far in as we were torchless - something for another day. The main metal sought was copper. The area around the mine clearly shows associated structures such as leats and spoil heaps.

Not a very salubrious place for lunch - on the side of one of the largest spoil heaps on the banks of the River Tavy.

Looking down onto the Tavy from the top of the spoil heap. The river runs clear and the rocks at the bottom have a bluish tinge, no doubt due to the presence of copper. I read somewhere that the ore from the mine was transported by pack horse for processing elsewhere on the nearby Bere Peninsular. Apparently there was a bridge for the packhorses to cross but this was dismantled by the Duke of Bedford's agents as it was slightly wider than was permitted.

Doublewaters - looking down the Walkham as it meets the Tavy coming in from the right. The workings of Wheal Bedford, another old copper mine, are scattered around and about in the woods - silent, ivy clad and gradually being reclaimed by nature.

Pigs 'Ere Blog Part 5: Settling in

Somebody asked me "how are the pigs settling in?".  As can be seen from these photographs, the answer to the question is "very well". At the moment they are enjoying the East Cornish sunshine but come tomorrow, they may be getting the chance to wallow in a little Cornish mud!

The one to the left spoilt the symmetry of this shot. Isn't that always the case with lefties?

Just relaxing in the sun.

They are starting to root around and dislodge the grass. I wonder how long it will take before they've turned over their plot completely. The promised rain will help their endeavours.

Pigs 'Ere Blog Part 4: Arrival Day

Today's the day the pigs arrived! Hooray.

The Erection Team had been hard at work making the final preparations for the arrival of the weaners. The ark was built and carefully located so that its back was to the weather from the South West. Temporary food troughs were in place as were some 'environment enhancing' playthings - an old tractor tyre and some logs.  And, to prevent any shorting out, the area under the electric fence had been strimmed. All that work and I was away walking as it happened. Thank you, Team: I owe you.

Down to Trevaskis Farm near Hayle to pick them up and this is our first sight of them .

And here they are in all their porcine glory: eight little sqealers. Actually, they seemed very relaxed about what was going on.

Here's Giles Eustice, breeder and supplier of fine British Lop pigs, ushering the weaners out of his trailer into ours.

Once in our trailer they got down to the task of rooting around the new straw and generally checking things out.

And lest anyone thinks that an hour's trip in a trailer was a traumatic experience for them, this is how they looked when we'd arrived back at base. All asleep, dreaming piggy dreams.

Trailer backed up into their patch and time to let them find their own way out.

Coaxed out with a little food, they gradually started coming out. The event attracted quite a crowd of cooperative members.

Out and feeding from the trough. Job done!

And lest we forget, here's the reason we are doing all this. I bought some British Lop pork sausages from the shop at Trevaskis Farm and had a sausage sandwich when I got back home. The verdict: delicious. Bring the pork on!