6/7/2010-Week 1
I had no idea what to expect when I got to 190 Sandyford Road. All that I knew was that Sam and Joe were living together with some of their mates and that the true story behind Sam’s occupancy was slightly more complicated than that of a simple house tenant. Joe met me at the train station and as I crossed the bridge over the tracks looking toward the pick-up area I was instantly reminded of one of the reasons I love having a 6’8” cousin. I’m confident in the knowledge that no crowd is too thick, no hair to tall to prevent me from finding my cousin in a busy area.
Its always something special to me when I see my extended family. Imagine the feeling of Christmas, birthdays, and all other family holidays rolled into one and then add to that the fact that Joe & Sam are two of my best friends despite the fact that we only really reconnect once a year at best. Many of the absolute best moments of my life have come in their company and as we have grown up the bond between all the cousins has simply gotten more powerful. Needless to say a big hug was instore for a big man…if only I could reach up to get my arms around him.
I will spare you all the details of my Newcastle trip because they are hazy at best for me and I’m sure I would not do any of it justice in writing now. I will, however, give you a brief snapshot of the weekend to build a contrast against what was soon to become my life when I arrived in Scotland, to say black and white would be an understatement for sure….
Arrive in taxi to 190 Sandyford road…find Joe only possesses key to back door so go around back alley…see Shenda 125 motorcycle (below) with whom I am to form a close relationship over the next few months…
...ask Joe why several parts are lying detached from the bike, Joe says Sam is taking care of it, when did Sam become a mechanic?...enter house, immediately think Animal House, this should be interesting…throw bags down in hall, ask Joe where I should put them, find from Joe that actually I need to pretend I am not there…?...find from Joe that Sam is not technically meant to be living there either…? …find from Joe that landlady is expected for a visit in next few days, time of visit unknown… Sam and I must become scarce/one person…some confusion as I point out that it is highly unlikely that Sam and I can leave a footprint on any location that would suggest a single (or no) inhabitants…reassured by Joe that as long as landlady thinks Sam is gone and/or is me there will be no issues…Spend next 4 mornings (actually afternoons based on our 4pm-7am schedule) on various couches…watch Sam pack bedding and belongings every morning giving appearance of vacancy…watch Joe frantically clean every morning after late night house parties under expectation of visit from landlady…landlady waits to come until last day…very clever.
Ultimately, Newcastle was a blast but by the end the only thing on my mind was getting to Erraid. Joe and I were to drive up in our grandfathers van with the motorcycle, and one of Joe’s friends, in the back. Another five friends were driving up separately and had left a day earlier planning to stop on the way to camp. We had a quiet night before leaving and I found myself thinking that we were in great shape to make the trip in good time and be on the island by the next afternoon. It was not until very much later the next day that I would reflect back on these whimsical thoughts and realize how very wrong I was indeed.
(Let me just add the disclaimer to what follows that I am in no way bitter about the way the journey turned out)
I woke the next morning and quickly went to see about Joe. To my great surprise he seemed awake and ready, although still in bed, despite the decades of evidence that had caused me to immediately rush rouse him upon waking myself. (Seeing Joe functional before noon is the rarest of occurrences on par with that of seeing the illusive and fantastic mating ritual of the bird of paradise).Things were starting out far better than what I had pictured in my head as I dozed off the night before to manic scenes of missing alarm clocks and forgetting wallets. We strolled comfortably out the door around 9:15, picked up Joes friend Andy and completed the obligatory return to 190 Sandyford to retrieve the items we had of course forgotten all by 9:45, things were looking good yet again. We had about 5 hours of driving to get to a 4 o’clock ferry, which was the last ferry of the day. It was not until sometime after the second hour long detour in the wrong direction near Glasgow that I started to get the feeling that we weren’t going to be anywhere near the port city of Oban before the 4pm deadline. We all kept our uncertainty fairly quiet as I think we all felt it wasn’t going to help at all to get worked up about the potential of missing the ferry. I could tell Joe was thinking about it as I watched the speedometer climb up to 80mph…and remain there for the remainder of the drive.
Finally as 4pm rolled around and we were still a solid hour from Oban we all began to admit that the ferry was not in the cards that night. There was, however, still the chance that if we drove the 30 minutes past Oban to the next ferry we could still make it across to the island of Mull that night. We knew that there were later ferries at the second location but what we failed to realize was that the journey between Oban and Lochallain was not the 30 minutes we guessed but closer to an hour and a quarter and included another smaller ferry in the middle, which was not in any hurry to get its passengers across in time for anything in particular much less the last ferry of the night to Mull. Still, as we disembarked and began to drive towards Lochallain we all felt that we would surely make the 8 pm ferry…if only the last ferry hadn’t been at 6:30. We found this out as we drove to the dock to the sight of the crew heading for their cars and the ferry securely tied to the dock for the night. We accepted our fate, cracked the whisky, made cheese sandwiches and hunkered down for a long night in a cramped van.
The night consisted of several walks, one of which led to the discovery of a Salt mining facility complete with a suspended causeway over the water, which we explored in its entirety.
Pretty sure these things were alive…I know one looked at me.
Joe about 15 feet in front of me in the causeway-tunnel-nightmare-death-trap from hell but without flash I couldn’t see anything.
Another wild looking structure, the camera doesn’t really do justice to just how unsettling this place was. That’s not white sand on the ground, its salt and it was glowing from the moonlight when we first arrived. This shot is after the sky began to get a little light.
The only sleep any of us got was inconveniently in the 2 hours from 7-9am, causing us to miss the first 3 ferries across to Mull. We got on the next one only fall asleep in the car again and wake to a very confused ferry worker trying to get all the vehicles to disembark. We had missed our turn and were holding up the whole ferry. I woke Joe and we sheepishly drove past the crew member who was far from impressed. The final hour and a half drive to the shore across from Erraid was a blur and we all talked very little. Staying awake at the wheel was the primary concern for Joe and, for the last 20 or so minutes of the drive, myself. One of the hardest things was the final stage of the marathon journey, which consisted of us lugging as much as we could carry down the hill from the farm where the cars were parked, across the sand and onto Erraid. I finally collapsed in the front garden of the croft and a wave of relief washed over me, I was on my island at last.
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