You know that thing about peer pressure, where you unintentionally conform to those around you? Well, spending a few days on the island of Islay has made me want to be a better person. Certainly more polite, courteous and patient with other people.
While I was there, all the islanders I met (except one) were incredibly polite and obliging and so were all the other tourists I met, which included some other British tourists as well as some Danes, a Swede, some Germans and a man from Braziil. Everyone was unfailingly polite and courteous. In a shop where we were buying twenty things and we tried to let a man buying only a frozen pizza go before us, he wouldn't hear of it. He was happy to wait his turn. And almost every motorist we encountered on the roads gave us a friendly wave. Sometimes this was because we'd considerately made way for them on a single track road, but quite often it was just to say hello.
As well as being the politest place I've ever been, it might well be the most beautiful. I'm not a fan of beaches but the beaches on the Atlantic Coast at Machir Bay and Saligo Bay are the most beautiful I've ever seen. Ruth used to live on the Atlantic Coast in Portugal and she said it looks and feels the same. We also visited possibly the remotest Art Studio and cafe I've ever seen at Sanaigmore, and the beach there was also immaculate. Each time we were virtually the only people there. We saw a family of three at Machir Bay but otherwise no-one.
During our holiday on Arran last year, we had a couple of days where we couldn't even leave our holiday flat because the weather was so hostile, and I sat reading up on Islay then. The extra push I needed to get us there this week was that I wanted to go and shake the hand of Lorna, the local youth hostel manager. I, along with Dean, met Lorna in Rishikesh while she was picking up rubbish in the streets, a quixotic endeavour if ever there was one, according to Dean. She was the first Westerner we'd seen for days, and after we met the rafting and bungee jumping stress heads at Bhandari Swiss Cottages, she was possibly the only sane one we met while we were there. She wouldn't shake my hand in Rishikesh because her hands were covered in street garbage, so I said I'd have to go to Islay to see her in her summer job to get my handshake.
If you do go to Islay cycling, don't try to cycle too far in a day. Getting any speed up on a bike there is hopeless. There's something on almost every corner worth looking at, and photographing. The first morning we left the Youth Hostel, it took us an hour to do a mile. We spent some time watching hares boxing, we messed about getting photos with some alpacas, and we generally spent more time off the bike than on it. We'd taken about a hundred pictures before we'd done the 7 miles to Portnahaven.
As soon as we arrived in the bay at Portnahaven Ruth became transfixed by the seals. There were around 20 or 30 lolling in the bay. They were pretty relaxed on the whole but they did keep getting chased off the rocks by the local sheepdog Len. It seemed to us that he was barking 'Get off my rocks!' and once they'd fled, they were replying from the safety of the water 'Come over here and say that'.
While Ruth was taking videos of the seals I assembled the Trangia to make some coffee, but I remembered I hadn't packed any food. After about 5 minutes of careful looking around I noticed that people kept coming down the hill with carrier bags after being in a small red and white building, so I went to have a look. It turned out to be the local Post Office. Very small, and sort of hidden in a dip, so we hadn't seen it from the road down.
Unfortunately, my mood was somewhat compromised by my encounter with the local postmaster, who tried his utmost to get me to vote for him in the following week's elections. Assuring him that I wasn't a registered voter in Scotland proved to be useless in the face of his tenacity. If I could have got a word in, I might have said 'Look mate, I'm on holiday, there's seals in the bay, my wife's down there with the kettle on, it's sunny, and all I want is a Mars bar, please let me go', but I didn't manage it. In a moment of panic I also bought some jerky beef. He didn't have any sandwiches (only on a Monday) and only one pie and I thought that the jerky beef might possibly have some meat in, but no. If you added water and waited about half an hour, it started to resemble beef, but in the end I threw it away. I thought about offering it to Len, the local sheepdog, but if he died, I didn't want to get the blame.
For three days we cycled round Islay after that, and the weather was perfect. A cool breeze while we rode, and a warm sun when we stopped. It was magical. Empty road after empty road. The odd car would pass by with dog walkers in going to the beach, or whisky drinkers heading for Islay's many distilleries, but on the whole it was just the two of us.
We got home yesterday, and I looked at the 500 or so photos I'd taken on Islay. At first glances they seemed disappointing, because they don't begin to convey the magic and the beauty of being there. But having looked at them again, they're good enough. Because they give you a hint of what's there, and a hint should be enough to get you there.
And if you do go, don't forget to pop into the Youth Hostel and say hi to Lorna. If you need somewhere friendly to stay with beautiful views all around, that could be just the place for you.
While I was there, all the islanders I met (except one) were incredibly polite and obliging and so were all the other tourists I met, which included some other British tourists as well as some Danes, a Swede, some Germans and a man from Braziil. Everyone was unfailingly polite and courteous. In a shop where we were buying twenty things and we tried to let a man buying only a frozen pizza go before us, he wouldn't hear of it. He was happy to wait his turn. And almost every motorist we encountered on the roads gave us a friendly wave. Sometimes this was because we'd considerately made way for them on a single track road, but quite often it was just to say hello.
As well as being the politest place I've ever been, it might well be the most beautiful. I'm not a fan of beaches but the beaches on the Atlantic Coast at Machir Bay and Saligo Bay are the most beautiful I've ever seen. Ruth used to live on the Atlantic Coast in Portugal and she said it looks and feels the same. We also visited possibly the remotest Art Studio and cafe I've ever seen at Sanaigmore, and the beach there was also immaculate. Each time we were virtually the only people there. We saw a family of three at Machir Bay but otherwise no-one.
During our holiday on Arran last year, we had a couple of days where we couldn't even leave our holiday flat because the weather was so hostile, and I sat reading up on Islay then. The extra push I needed to get us there this week was that I wanted to go and shake the hand of Lorna, the local youth hostel manager. I, along with Dean, met Lorna in Rishikesh while she was picking up rubbish in the streets, a quixotic endeavour if ever there was one, according to Dean. She was the first Westerner we'd seen for days, and after we met the rafting and bungee jumping stress heads at Bhandari Swiss Cottages, she was possibly the only sane one we met while we were there. She wouldn't shake my hand in Rishikesh because her hands were covered in street garbage, so I said I'd have to go to Islay to see her in her summer job to get my handshake.
If you do go to Islay cycling, don't try to cycle too far in a day. Getting any speed up on a bike there is hopeless. There's something on almost every corner worth looking at, and photographing. The first morning we left the Youth Hostel, it took us an hour to do a mile. We spent some time watching hares boxing, we messed about getting photos with some alpacas, and we generally spent more time off the bike than on it. We'd taken about a hundred pictures before we'd done the 7 miles to Portnahaven.
As soon as we arrived in the bay at Portnahaven Ruth became transfixed by the seals. There were around 20 or 30 lolling in the bay. They were pretty relaxed on the whole but they did keep getting chased off the rocks by the local sheepdog Len. It seemed to us that he was barking 'Get off my rocks!' and once they'd fled, they were replying from the safety of the water 'Come over here and say that'.
While Ruth was taking videos of the seals I assembled the Trangia to make some coffee, but I remembered I hadn't packed any food. After about 5 minutes of careful looking around I noticed that people kept coming down the hill with carrier bags after being in a small red and white building, so I went to have a look. It turned out to be the local Post Office. Very small, and sort of hidden in a dip, so we hadn't seen it from the road down.
Unfortunately, my mood was somewhat compromised by my encounter with the local postmaster, who tried his utmost to get me to vote for him in the following week's elections. Assuring him that I wasn't a registered voter in Scotland proved to be useless in the face of his tenacity. If I could have got a word in, I might have said 'Look mate, I'm on holiday, there's seals in the bay, my wife's down there with the kettle on, it's sunny, and all I want is a Mars bar, please let me go', but I didn't manage it. In a moment of panic I also bought some jerky beef. He didn't have any sandwiches (only on a Monday) and only one pie and I thought that the jerky beef might possibly have some meat in, but no. If you added water and waited about half an hour, it started to resemble beef, but in the end I threw it away. I thought about offering it to Len, the local sheepdog, but if he died, I didn't want to get the blame.
For three days we cycled round Islay after that, and the weather was perfect. A cool breeze while we rode, and a warm sun when we stopped. It was magical. Empty road after empty road. The odd car would pass by with dog walkers in going to the beach, or whisky drinkers heading for Islay's many distilleries, but on the whole it was just the two of us.
We got home yesterday, and I looked at the 500 or so photos I'd taken on Islay. At first glances they seemed disappointing, because they don't begin to convey the magic and the beauty of being there. But having looked at them again, they're good enough. Because they give you a hint of what's there, and a hint should be enough to get you there.
And if you do go, don't forget to pop into the Youth Hostel and say hi to Lorna. If you need somewhere friendly to stay with beautiful views all around, that could be just the place for you.
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