The best Scottish trips of 2015 were the three island trips I did alone and without the aid of a hire car. Hitch-hiking everywhere reminded me of the joys of Munro days when I never used a hire car. Thus in April I visited Bute, Great Cumbrae, Arran and the Mull of Kintyre, not forgetting the wonderful tidal Island Davaar, mopping up Humps.
In May I flew to Shetland for a week and on the fourth attempt managed to reach Foula in the wonderful little six-seater plane. The perfect weather made it well worth waiting for and the two Marilyns were a joy. There was also time to visit the fantastically equipped primary school with sadly at present only one pupil, nine-year-old Jack. He had written a guide to the island that mentioned the fact that there are many bonxies - 'They are very fierce. They can kill you.' So, beware.
I persuaded some other hostellers from the excellent Lerwick hostel to take part in a local quiz evening. A member of the team on the next table came and greeted me like a long-lost friend, and it turned out we had taught together in Cambridge. He had married the sister of the Foula pilot and was now the local minister. Gas has recently been discovered at Sullom Voe so special workers' buses ply up and down the road, conveniently linking remote Humps.
Da Sneug (photo: Ursula Stubbings)
September produced the best weather of all for Tiree, Barra, Eriskay, Mull, Ardnamurchan, Muck, Rum and Canna - what a wealth of landscapes and seascapes. All the islands boast excellent hostels, especially the new one on Rum, Kinloch Castle being under repair and out of use. Canna, right at the end of the trip, gave close encounters with wildlife. A sheep stuck in a burn up to its neck en-route to the western Hump over a trackless moor delayed me for two hours while a wrestling match took place. At one point I was trying to hold its head out of the water with one hand and phone for help with the other. There was no signal. When my back finally gave in, I hobbled to the Hump still some distance away, leaving the sheep to its own devices.
Eventually I arrived back at the village in darkness, mist and pouring rain, soaked to the skin, and knocked at the first lighted house, which turned out to house the warden. He called out the farmer, a woman who single-handed succeeded where I had failed, in not only finding but also saving the sheep. I warmed up in the community caravan where I was booked for the night. So many times have the smallest Marilyns or Humps proved the hardest.
Next day dawned bright and clear and the replacement boat for the regular Calmac ferry to Mallaig, the Orion, gave us sightings of a minke whale (my first ever) and a school of at least 20 dolphins that followed us for ages, leaping out of the water and practically brushing the boat. What an end to the holiday.
Another island visitor (photo: Ursula Stubbings)
Overheard on a baggers' boat trip: 'Why do we always have to start at sea level for these island tops?'
