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Islay, Ardtalla to Proaig

27/7/2017

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Awakened by a sudden squall, seething rain off the Atlantic.  Bright, blustery and cold.  A day of sunshine and showers - we’ll remember it as a fine day.
At Claggan Bay a merry notice reads. 'Chasing cows will be our fate if you do not close this gate.' We hear of  otters  seen  for a couple of hours last evening. Our  route is poached by cattle, with ruts from stalkers’ vehicles deep in water. A pasture of cows, calves and bull heading for our  ‘  footbridge over a small burn.’  Can see  only a deep pool of cattle poaching through which the herd goes splashing.


Waterlogged ground with bog asphodel.  Our way climbs trackless to the headland of Cnoc Bann nan Sgarlein,  heather moorland and blanket bog.  A profusion of  bog asphodel, cross-leaved heath, ling budding- coming into bloom, white-beaked sedge,  bog pimpernel and sundew in an intricate weave of flora.  Bright green sphagnum mosses and glints of open water alert us to bog.
We skirt a wood of willow and birch, through tall sedges flattened into a raft by someone’s passing. Off piste on tough terrain, we make for the shingle beach.   Wilderness, like the west coast of Jura.  Views across the Sound of Islay to  Jura,  Jura House and the coast we walked.  A fine bay with  bothy in sight.  Lunch at a sculptural rock,  lichened, with seeding docks.  Seaweed of vibrant colour and a frond of  the colour of beetroot, a crab shell, a sea urchin and jellyfish.    A squall is upon us fast so we hurry into waterproofs, gloves as the temperature drops.   I wash out my soup mug with rain water. As we head  back along the beach the shower is past. Return to Cnoc Bann nan Sgarlein  to linger over its flora. 
The bothy is the site of a former farmhouse of the Lords of the Isles- the prime farm on Islay. Viking settled at Proaig, attracted by green pastures close to Proaig River.
Walks on the inner Hebrides may be short but arduous, with  bracken  at its highest in July.  Tussocks in waterlogged ground, a lurch.  Knee-high, thigh-high heather.  Rushes with uncertain footing.  This soft rough is what Iike.
Kilbride Cross is set in a mown field where sheep are grazing and swallows feed low about us. Kildalton Cross   Kil means church.  12th/13th century church.
Finlaggan  where we arrive as they are mopping the floor at the visitors’ centre, and closing. But they invite us to explore outdooes.
I try to imagine Eilean Mor humming with activity, a power base for the Lords of the Isles, a place of ritual with installation ceremonies for new lords, descendants of Somerled.  In the late afternoon we are alone on Eilean Mor. The Paps of Jura rise beyond the ruins of the chapel as dark clouds lour and sunlight gleams off the loch and casts  a wonderful light upon the scene.  The grass is mown about the ruins but the loch is bordered thick with flowers: sneezewort, orchids, water avens, marsh valerian, meadowsweet and purple loosestrife.
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    Jan Wiltshire is a nature writer living in Cumbria. She also explores islands and coast and the wildlife experience. (See Home and My Books.)

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