Postcards From Across the Pond

On Saturday, we went to Mull.

We travelled with a tour group (Brightwater), as we have done before, but this time there were minor differences: there were only a dozen people in the group, and all of them—except for me—were women. We were also the youngest members of the group, by some margin. However, all the ladies (bless them), even those with canes and walkers, were up for the challenge.

So, we drove. Pretty scenery, rest stop at Luss and lunch at The Green Wellie in the town of Tyndrum (Yes, pronounced Tin Drum), then on to Oban where we caught the ferry.

I got more enjoyment than I should have from the ferry ride by noting I had done this same run, on the same ferry (sorta) and looked at the same mountains just a year and a half ago. World traveller that I am.

Unlike our other trips, the weather this time was typically Scottish: breezy and cool, with the threat of rain.

We soon arrived at the hotel and—five sets of stairs, four fire-doors, eight right-angle turns, and a quarter mile of tartan carpet later—found our room, making us wonder how the less agile in our group were going to fare. It was not an old hotel, yet there was nary an elevator, nor a ramp, in sight.

The room was nice but small and, in my view, was a two-star room in a four-star hotel. There are rooms here with “sea-view” balconies, complete with hot tubs and patio furniture, while I had to smoke my cigar next to the bike shed.

Even though our room didn’t have a balcony, it did have a sea view, which was true if you count the sliver of water visible between the trees. Basically, if you step back for a full view of the hotel, you’ll see the lobby area in the middle, the posh rooms to the right, and ours to the left.

And, unlike the Premier Inn Plus room, this place doesn’t offer a “luxury shelf” big enough for my laptop, and the tiny table is covered with coffee making equipment: cafetiere, electric kettle, lots of coffee and tea supplies, and black coffee cups, which look nice until you try to make a cup of tea in them. My wife explained that this was not an oversight, it’s by design; people are not expected to check in here for work.

I’m certain that is true. No expense account would cover it; the Plus room here cost five times what a Plus room at the Premier Inn goes for.

After settling in, we attempted to return to the lobby for a drink and dinner, but the maze of corridors was such that we had to double back a few times and ended up in areas where we weren’t sure where we were. When we eventually got to the bar, I tried to joke with the bartender by telling him we had checked out last Thursday and had been lost in the maze since then. He looked at me blankly. Tuff crowd; it’s going to be a long weekend.

Dinner was where the four stars really shone, as the food was unfailingly excellent.

Four starts or not, they still had a duvet on the bed, even though it was nowhere near hot enough to need one. I had not had a decent night’s sleep in a week, and I felt it. So, the next morning I went to take a shower and sat for fifteen minutes running tepid water over my hand before I gave up and boiled the kettle so I could mix up some warm water in the sink.

Then my wife went in and had a hot shower. The FUCK?!?!?!!? What the genuine fuck?

And so, I began Sunday feeling exhausted, grubby, and stupid.

The morning was atmospheric, which was a nice change, but that put the Iona ferry in jeopardy. We went anyway because, as our leader put it, if the ferry was running, we could go over, if not, we would at least see a lot of Mull on the trip down, and then we’d see a lot of Mull again on the way back to Durat Castle, which is right next to the hotel, and where we were supposed to go on Tuesday.

Naturally, we hoped that wasn’t the way the day was going to go but, after a cab ride to Gatwick, a plane journey to Glasgow airport, a bus ride to the Premier Inn, a bus ride to Oban, a ferry to Mull, a bus ride to another hotel, a bus ride (harrowing bus ride, no less) to Fionnphort, arriving in the nick of time to catch the noon ferry to Iona, we found that the ferry was not running.

Iona was so close we could take photos of it, but the currents were so bad that they said if they managed to get us over there, they could not guarantee they could get us back.

And so, we went to the castle.

It felt sort of like climbing Kilimanjaro, getting ten feet from the top, and the team leader saying “Fuck it! Let’s keep the flag and go home.”

The ride back was not quite so harrowing because we weren’t watching the clock, but it was still a single-track lane, and we were in a huge coach, often inching past cars and trucks and, in two cases, other huge tour buses.

Durant Castle was interesting. Different than other castles, more like a stately home made out of a castle, and the family still lived there until recently.

Now to see what tomorrow brings.

Next: Iona, take II