Hemmed In

Hemmed In

Fond farewell to Mull today. Our home for 6 weeks is now over 250 hard-won miles away, and photos from yesterday already provoke a feeling of "that seems so long ago"! The gulf stream ensures that the island has escaped the worst of the Arctic blast that has enveloped most of the country, but today the ice took hold, and our journey across the centre of the island on unsalted, single-track roads was nerve-jangling. Just as well we had an audio book of Guy Shrubshole talking about the unique nature of Mull's hazel-based temperate rainforests to distract me from the sliding wheels and ineffective brakes.

After that, jostling on to a ferry shoulder to shoulder with a few burley commercial vehicles was a mere bagatelle. We have spent 6 weeks looking across the water at Tiree, and hearing a little of its ancient rocks, white seashell beaches and Machair flowers. Its is less than 20km long and, as far as I can see, not one of them is other than single track. Full respect to someone running a transport business with handsome livery from that base. The van is dealing in livestock dietary supplements, I think; I like their picture of curious young-stock but, based on what we have encountered, I doubt they have seen many Friesians on Mull

The peaks around Ben Nevis and Glen Coe were snow-capped and imposing, the lochs had rising mist meeting impossibly low cloud. Birch trees stood steel-grey on the slopes in the watery winter sun. We felt ourselves to be leaving with the land wishing us well

As we progressed into Glasgow, reality began to bite in the form of 4-lane traffic snarl-ups, fading light, grimy salt spray and a sense of peril for the unwary. A warm room and a good curry supper in the Eden valley were a welcome end to an exhausting day. I hope our companion from Tiree has found a comparable journey's end