To Jura

I've been thinking about this trip for a long time and spent a few hours planning the journey. And dreaming of what it might be. It didn't disappoint. 

The four-day weekend of Easter was perfect, I wanted to go when the bracken would be dead, midges asleep and ticks slow. 

On Good Friday, with an improving forecast I headed west to catch the 1pm ferry at Kennacraig. Two hours later I was in Port Askaig on Islay transferring to the Jura ferry for the five minute hop across the Sound. From there it was the wee bus rattling north up the single Jura road (with grass in the middle) for an hour to be dumped at Ardlussa.
 
"There you go sir, end of the road" said the friendly driver. 

And off I went. 

After three hours of marching, mostly in showery rain, I reached the heathery hillside overlooking the Gulf of Corryvreckan. It was now dark and I struggled to find a decent spot for the tent, but made do with a sloping, bumpy but dry lump. 

Picture was taken not long after leaving the bus, looking east from Ardlussa to a rainbow from the latest shower.