|Farewell to Saddell
||[Jul. 26th, 2016|09:41 pm]
The boat trip to Ailsa Craig was such an experience that it seemed very strange that the day wasn't over, that it was only lunchtime - time for a late lunch, admittedly, but lunch was still being served. We returned to the Bluebell Café, now much less busy than on our first visit.
After lunch, durham_rambler and I continued our wanderings around Campbeltown. It has a very fine cross, of which this mermaid is the crowning glory:
I left the "Wee Toon" feeling that, down-at-heel though it is, it still has more to show us: another time we might visit Springbank distillery, or walk out to Davaar island (accessible at low tide). They might even have unveiled the cinema, completely hidden behind hoarding while we were there.
Back to Ferryman's Cottage, and there was time for one last walk round the bay before dinner. Here's a picture from the very start of that walk: this was my first glimpse of the bay on the day we arrived, so it seems a suitable picture to say goodbye:
The figure is one of Antony Gormley's, one of five commissioned by the Landmark Trust and intended to be temporary: he should have been gone by the time we arrived, but we were happy to see him.
Our last evening as a foursome was a sociable one, punctuated by bouts of packing, and the following morning we went our separate ways: D. and valydiarosada returned the way we had come, heading south, and durham_rambler and I headed north to the ferry for Islay. Arriving in Kintyre we had followed the slow road down the east side of the peninsula. Now we planned to take the fast road up the west side, but to join it we had to go south almost to Campbeltown, and our satnav was not pleased: we tried to cajole her into regarding this as a diversion in our route, and got the message: "Leave road and navigate across country," with a graphic showing the highlighted route heading straight out to sea. Having a satnav is like having a pet or a young child, supplying an endless stream of anecdotes which are fascinating to us, and probably of little interest to anyone but fellow-parents.
Persevering on the main road, we made good enough time to stop for coffee, which we found at the shop in Glenbarr: what looks like a very ordinary village shop opens out into the lushly floral courtyard of a garden centre, and beyond it a café with local artworks on the wall, good coffee and clootie dumpling, light, spicy and fruity, not to be resisted. And we were still in time to stop at a rise in the road and watch the ferry far below sailing along the loch to meet us.
And then we were on Islay, and I've already written about that.