Posts Tagged ‘cycling Scotland’

Scotland – exploring the outer limits

Tuesday, April 20th, 2010

By D’Arcy Kavanagh

scotland-bike1

If you’re looking for a wee escape from life’s non-stop challenges, try the Outer Hebrides off the west coast of Scotland. It’ll take some effort to get there, but it’ll be worth while.
The reasons for making the trip are varied and numerous. First, the 5 ½ ferry ride from Oban on the mainland to Lochboisdale in South Uist passes by some spectacular islands (Mull, Eigg and Rhum among them), leaving you with a distinct feeling that you’re leaving civilization behind. Next, the two Uists – south and north plus neighbouring islands – are not just gloriously remote but remarkably beautiful in a wild, moor-like way. Then there are the people who seem to possess a droll sense of humour about almost everything, especially the “mainland” which is held in some contempt. You’ll also get introduced to island politics with locals praising their region while disparaging – with wit – other islands in the area.
My wife and I do our traveling by bike. Touring the Outer Hebrides by bike isn’t for everyone, given the frequent gloom and rain. However, there’s not a dull kilometre anywhere. Moreover, if enjoying some wild and vacant area that looks like it hasn’t changed in a couple of million years works for you, then these islands should prove fascinating.
Finally, there is the history of the islands. It’s long and rich. Arguably, the most unique story involves a WWII cargo ship that went aground off South Uist. Its main cargo? Hundreds and hundreds of bottles of single malt whiskey. In those days, the region was extremely religious – it still is but to a lesser extent – and drinking alcohol wasn’t approved of. Still, a bunch of islanders from South Uist and neighbouring Eriskay grabbed as much whiskey as they could and hid it from the authorities. In some cases, they buried it but only after drinking enough beforehand that they couldn’t recall where they had put their treasure. Some of them were apprehended by the police with four being charged and convicted of crimes relating to the incident. Mackenzie Compton recounted the story in a book which was turned into a movie. Today, in both South Uist and Eriskay, that episode in Hebridean history remains fresh.
So, for an unusual escape, try the Uists and Eriskay. Have a wee whiskey in a sleepy pub. Sit and watch a storm drop down over a nearby hill. Engage a local about which part of the Outer Hebrides is the most interesting. Smell the sea and earth. And keep reminding yourself that, one day, you’ll have to go home.

Fighting Midges for Scotch

Friday, November 21st, 2008

by D’Arcy Kavanagh

It was a bonny evening in Port Ellen, mild with a slight mist that perfumed the air with the scent of sea. We were standing in line to enter the community hall for a special “Malt whiskey testing” as part of the week-long celebration of malt whiskey that each year is held on the island of Islay off southwest Scotland. The celebration features the products of such distillers as Lagavulin, Bruichladdich, Bowmore, Bunnahabhain, Caol Ila, Ardbeg and Laphraoig. As lovers of peaty whiskies, we awaited alongside like-minded aficionados from England, Germany, the Netherlands, Denmark, France, Japan, and the United States.

It was the fourth day and we’d be doing a “nosing” in which we’d sample only the aromas of various whiskies disguised in dark blue glasses. From there, we’d guess which whiskey belonged to which distillery. Following the nosing, there’d be a ceilidh.

It was all so civilized even if the Germans, Danes and Japanese sported team T-shirts proclaiming – in English – their affection for whiskey. One white T-shirt was emblazoned with “Whiskey gives meaning to life” in scarlet red letters on the chest. Another said whiskey was better than sex.
We laughed and swapped whiskey opinions as our numbers grew to 200. Was the Lagavulin the best of the 16-year-olds? Did Bowmore make more brands than the other distilleries? Was the ultra-peaty Laphroaig best sipped with water?

Then the midges attacked.

We hadn’t bumped into any members of this Scottish insect species during our week on the island. Maybe they’d been resting during the sunny days – they supposedly don’t like sunshine – or maybe they’d just been working on building up some bad attitude. But they were on us now, swarming and biting, regrouping and then coming at us again. Conversation stopped except for curse words as we flailed in vain against their onslaught.

Some folks might argue that a midge is little more than a gnat or a small mosquito. Those people have never been prey to Islay midges.  The coastal ceratopogonidae, or biting midges, are a cross between a buzzsaw and a hornet with a nasty hangover. They never stop and they hurt. 
The weak-willed among us fled. Those who understood the value of great malt whiskies stayed and bled for their devotion. My wife and I covered as much skin as possible, but it was useless; any decent midge can burrow through standard protection.

After five minutes of chaos, the doors to the hall opens and out came two organizers who immediately noticed the twitching, cursing bunch before them. “My goodness,” said one, a nice, grandmotherly type. “They’re nasty tonight. Oh well, we’ll only be another five minutes.”
And then they were gone, the door slamming shut behind them.

For five more minutes, we fought and lost. Then the doors re-opened and the 100 survivors or so rushed forward.

Later that night, we visited with a gregarious German who said he thought his whiskey team needed new T-shirts for next year. On the front, the new wording would be: “Whiskey and midges – I survived the Islay festival.”

It made perfect sense to us.