The Winter Solstice in Lochranza

Whilst mainland Scotland has been having a truly Arctic winter, being a small island has meant that Arran hasn’t suffered such extreme conditions. Arran has kept being a brown blob on the BBC weather map when most places are blue. It’s been easy when walking along the coast to distinguish the other snow-free islands of the Clyde against the white backdrop of mainland. The CalMac ferries have been sailing with serene regularity, whilst road traffic chaos on the mainland has made headlines daily. Today, however, after some heavy snowfalls, everything here is white.
In early December much of Lochranza goes into its famous sunless period which will last through January. The sun never quite makes it on to the campsite, as it circles low behind Torr Nead and Meall Mor. The north-facing cliffs along the coast have curtains of icicles. There is a sharp division between sunshine and shade which works its way across the hillsides as the day goes on. You might think that being sunless would make it gloomy, but it’s more as if there is a golden ceiling just above your head. And it might be the winter solstice but the sparkling frosts seem to lengthen the days.
The herds of deer are high up on the hillsides now as there is nothing left to eat on the golf course. It’s already being another tough winter for wild things.

Nigel and I would like to wish you a very happy, safe and warm Christmas.
Kathy
The photograph shows the lunar eclipse just before dawn on December 21st.

Bog Standards

“You’re very lucky to live here.”

I’ve heard that a lot this year and, now as the season closes, I wholeheartedly agree. It’s strange to look back at how it wasn’t the beauty of the place and the wildlife all round that I noticed at first, but that human and animal waste, shall we say, had come to dominate my life. If I wasn’t batting deer poo off the golf greens, I was waving a loo brush in the ladies.

Repetitive daily task that cleaning toilets is, I have to say that in eight months of it, without respite, I haven’t had to deal with anything unpleasant lurking in the depths- if you know what I mean. Clearly we have considerate visitors.

Toilet cleaning has given me other, darker insights into human nature. For example, sometimes callers come when I am mid-mopping. They will ask, with disdain at my lowly status, if they can speak to the owner. I cheerfully introduce myself then get my revenge by shaking their hands with my Marigolds still on.

Everyone should do a stint of toilet cleaning in their lives! Then we’d be eternally grateful for the great service toilet cleaners do us. Facing a dripped-on seat when you’re dying for relief can ruin anybody’s day.

I’m ashamed to confess that I have had the experience of toilet-cleaning rage. It happened in the height of season when, despite barricading myself in the loos with closed signs, one passer-by after another clambered over them the minute I was occupied in a closet, without so much as a “Please, I’m desperate!” The bowls got a furious pounding with the loo brush that day!

Nigel and I are now polished and practised toilet cleaners, who swish through the toilets in no time. And there can’t be many toilet cleaners who can step outside and straightaway see eagles and red deer.

We are lucky to live here!

Have a wonderful time in the winter months.

Hope to see you next year.

Kathy and Nigel

RUDE AWAKENINGS

It’s five in the morning. I’ve just been outside, having been lying awake for sometime listening to the raucous bellowing of a stag outside the caravan window. You’ve heard of swimming with dolphins- well, at this time of year, here you get to camp with stags roaring close by. Just bring ear plugs if you want some sleep. Outside, the sky is black and peppered with billions of twinkling silver and gold stars. The solid outlines of Torr Nead and Meall Mor edge the sky. Winds are whooshing about in Glen Chalmadale and Gleannn Easan but it’s calm down here and I can distinguish many stag voices calling round the village in answer to the one who’s woken me up. A few motorhomes are staying on site and I can’t see any lights on so I’m hoping everyone else is still fast asleep.

It’s coming to the end of our first season now. We close on October 31^st until March 1^st. Anyone holidaying in Arran now truly sees the tourist season end in a blaze of autumn glory. Visitors come back daily with reports of something special, including today “We saw the northern lights from the pier last night” and “We saw a basking shark passing Pirnmill….”. I myself saw a little colony of common seals basking on the rocks at Newton shore and red squirrels scurrying about all over the place. But it’s the daily soap opera of the deer that dominates our lives: the chases, challenges, tussles and, of course, the desperate groanings and defiant bellowings.

Red Deer on the First Day of Autumn

There aren’t many human visitors on site now, but it’s all happening with the red deer. It’s 8pm and almost dark. In the last light you can see two deer on the skyline. Sitting in the caravan with the lights off makes a brilliant wildlife observation hide. A massive, magnificent, dark-coloured stag with many points on his antlers has come down from the hill on to the site to exert his authority over the hinds. There is something primeval about him, as though the forest has come to life. He has scared away the young males and is pursuing a small herd of hinds with this year’s calves right past the caravan window. The calves are watching him curiously but warily. He lifts his head and roars a groaning, grunting, mooing roar, no doubt directed at the stags over the burn.

These deer are not tame, although the hinds and calves are very people-tolerant. We do not feed them. I guess they’re around so much because this was their home, before ever there was a campsite- and the golf course has juicy green grass as well!

We regularly see unusual and amusing insights into red deer life. The other day I saw two stags sitting down, absolutely motionless, being pecked all over by jackdaws. The deer clearly didn’t want to move as they were enjoying it so much. The birds were probably de-ticking them.

Insights

This has been a week of special moments. Walking along the coast back from Laggan to Lochranza on Tuesday, I found the prehistoric giant millipede tracks there, in a rocky cleft by the sea, at last, after much looking! 320 million years old and clearly visible!

Another ancient discovery followed on when Nigel and I went to a meeting of the Arran Natural History Society. This involved an interesting talk by a ranger whose job it is to identify ancient trees in Ayrshire. He told us that he records trees whose girth is greater than three metres. We measured the campsite’s huge sycamore as soon as we returned. It is over five metres, making it a tree that must have witnessed many human generations coming and going at Lochranza.

I have also had some sudden unexpected glimpses of Arran’s beautiful wildlife. First of all, yesterday morning, a camper drew my attention to one of the eagles soaring above the campsite, its wings catching the golden rays of the rising sun. Then today, walking in Glen Catacol, first a black adder wriggled across the path ahead, then an adder a little further on.

The stags are moving closer to the campsite now. The rut approaches. Last night a heavy mature stag was standing underneath the Stags Pavilion sign board. Wonder if he was aware that Teddy was serving venison on the other side of the glass?

Finally, I have seen the Sleeping Warrior properly: visor, chin, chest and all. Here’s a photo at sunset from the top of the Boguillie Road. Can you see him too?

So long summer………………

17th August

The reason I haven’t blogged for ages is that campsite life has been hectic and today is the first day I’ve had some spare time in weeks. Don’t get me wrong, I know I’m lucky to live and work in as beautiful a place as this, but I have to confess to a degree of jealousy of holidaymakers who have come to stay here. It’s great to meet so many new and interesting faces, but I want to be out there camping and exploring the island too, and, in summer, as campsite owner, I simply can’t. Maybe we could live in our little tent …..after all, it was camping here on the start of our sea kayaking tour last summer that brought us here.

Though we’ve just had a gorgeously warm and sunny weekend (see picture of me swimming in Coire Fhion Lochain, which was slightly less chilly then the sea at Blackwaterfoot the day before) there are signs of Autumn now. As we look across to Kintyre and the setting sun, the point the sun goes down appears to be moving daily southwards, and now there is black darkness at night again. We’ve had meteor showers, just like in “Local Hero”.

I don’t think midges have been excruciating many times this year at all. I can only remember one evening when people playing golf looked more like they were practising martial arts. All sorts of research about midge dietary preferences keep being reported on The News. The latest is that you’re more likely to get bitten if you’re tall because midges fly two metres up. Hmmm. My own theory is that they like hot food, just like we do. I’m cold-blooded and clearly not appetising to them. Whatever the theory, we remind ourselves that, along with the rain, they are Scotland’s natural defences. Just think! If it was sunny all the time the whole world would want to holiday in Scotland.

Scotland is not at all like England, and it’s whenever I go to concerts and ceilidhs I notice it most. I love the way everyone joins in and dances with total abandon, enthusiasm and lack of inhibition –all generations together mostly. It’s as if music is the life-blood of Scottish people. Rainy Julys are made up for by fantastic atmospheres at community events. One of these was last Friday when Corrie had its own version of UpHellyAh, recreating the Scots battles against the Vikings (see photo).

Also see Jamie making the past live at Lochranza Castle (I mentioned him in a May blog) You can visit his website: www.claymorekiss.co.uk

On Rain, Golf and Whisky

Almost three months of sunshine had brought about empty burns and parched ground until last week when Nature remedied matters with a flash flood in Lochranza. Torrential rain streamed off the steep hillsides and the dry ground failed to absorb it.

The golf course looked like an extension to the loch but Dunkirk spirit was much in evidence with everyone helping each other and the Village Hall and the PGL Centre opening for people who had got very wet. The deer meanwhile headed up to the hills.

The waters quickly subsided leaving us with a major operation of fencing repairs. The sheep seized the opportunity to run back into the golf course, and Mr. and Mrs. Mahers, two of our camping survivors, found some of their belongings in the loch near the castle several days later.

It has been an unusual year: a long, snowy winter; a drought and then heavy rain, but Scotland has been looking like itself again with strands of mist curled round the hills. The verdant green of grass and bracken is dotted with the delicate purples and blues of heather and harebells.

Talking of weather, people who go out in it whatever it’s doing are golfers. I have revised all my preconceived ideas about golf since I arrived in Scotland. I didn’t realise that golf had developed as a sport which worked in the wild Scottish coastal scenery. I had no idea that when you hit the ball, you can’t see the target. And I definitely didn’t expect it to be so hard to play. Local Golf Pro Dougie Bell is now giving lessons on the golf course (including to Nigel and myself). He swings the club with graceful nonchalance and the ball flies way over the trees lining the burn. To get the ball airborne, never mind in the right direction, is my current target.

Golf isn’t an exclusive sport in Scotland; everyone enjoys it- a bit like whisky. Incidentally, the Isle of Arran distillery had an open day at the beginning of the month with lots of free tasting. I have to admit, a drop of whisky fire in my veins when we arrived here in the icy weather of February went down very well, but on a sunny warm afternoon in a carnival atmosphere and surrounded by the Lochranza hills, it made a lovely summer drink too. Skerryvore played in the Village Hall later in the day. I’d travel a long way to see this band but having them in the same village was a treat beyond all my expectations.

As I write this it’s afternoon and blue sky has pushed yesterday’s clouds away. The site is very quiet after the rain and outside our caravan a little herd of deer, with hinds, last year’s young and a little calf, are flat out fast asleep. Further down the golf course, four stags are having their version of a hot tub party. They are sitting together in a bunker on the golf course so that you can only see their splendid new antlers above the rim.