Road to the isles, 5th July, Ardnamurchan

After the wet day we had had previously, Sunday morning was cloudy but dry. We took the first ferry from Tobermory on the short crossing to Kilchoan the 'capital' of the Ardnamurchan peninsula.
The clouds were still enveloping the sky and made for some dramatic pictures.





On reaching Kilchoan we booked into the Ardnamurchan Campsite, run by Trevor Potts, the first man to single handedly follow Shackleton's heroic rescue journey from Elephant Island to South Georgia in a replica 22ft open rowing boat. He still travels and lectures on the cruise boats going down to the Antarctic. The campsite has a lovely communal room packed with books on local flora and fauna as well as more southerly tomes. There is limited room for small camper vans but plenty of space for tents and the site runs right down to the water's edge with views across to Mull.
We thought we would visit the Ardnamurchan Point lighthouse which figures in the 'shipping forecast' as it is the most westerly point on the British mainland. When we got there, having passed some red deer on the side of the road, we found you could get an accompanied tour up the lighthouse. The short wait was occupied by a local sheep dog who wanted a stick thrown for him (we had left Hettie in the van). As soon as we went into the lighthouse he found another gullible family to repeat the trick.
The door to the lighthouse was opened by a fairly elderly man, we were the only people on the 'tour' We walked up the stairs and heard him coming slowly up behind us, taking a while to get to the top. It turned out that he had been a keeper of this light until he had retired a few years back. But being a lighthouse keeper does not equip you for interacting with Joe Public and it took a lot of patient questioning to get much out of him, although he gradually warmed to the subject and talked about the Queen's visit when she nimbly climbed the stairs. 
Needless to say we had a stunning view. The discarded metal object in the 7th and 9th pictures beneath is a recumbent windmill that had been put up to provide power but was not safe and had never been taken away. The stone walls by it surround fields where once the lighthouse keepers had kept cows for milk.













We chose to drive down to the lovely beach at Portuairk for some lunch, a walk along the white sands and a clamber around the rock pools. Hettie enjoyed sitting in them, no doubt squashing the odd shrimp. We had magnificent views over to the mountains of Rhum.







The campsite was welcoming when we got back. Alan went to the library and talked to Trevor for a little while. I went down to the sea later on and caught the clouds colouring up over Mull.







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