Last days on Islay

My last couple of weeks on Islay, which could have been a nightmare of packing the house, selling all the stuff I could not get off the island, making bookings for vans, flights, storage and finding somewhere to live (not to mention cancelling flights, car rental, etc), was hugely alleviated by the presence of good friends who saved my sanity and offered practical help.

The first visitor to my home arrived the day before my employment ended. She sat me down in front of a spreadsheet and worked through the process of getting off the island with my belongings, making a move to a new location and ensuring that I was able to make the vital hospital appointments the following week. Friends and family came up with offers of accommodation, invaluable career advice was forthcoming and pretty soon I had a plan. How that plan developed, dissolved and had to be re-made on the hoof has provided me with proof that the military adage "no plan survives contact with the enemy" is God's own truth. That whole litany of stress and disaster will not be the subject of a future blog ... I'll just let it sink back into the murky waters of my memory, hopefully never to surface again.

The best thing about having my visitors with me was that I was able to get out into the increasingly nice weather to enjoy bits of the island and share them with others. The lovely walk up to Rhuval Lighthouse (subject of my first Islay blog) was so much more enjoyable with a friend striding beside me, a stroll around the Mull of Oa and beach combing in search of shells; all things that you need to share with others. The hard core photographic trips are peculiarly painful for anyone with me, so are best done alone, but the pure enjoyment of a beautiful natural environment, full of wildlife and alive with wind, sun and rain is enhanced by the company of a friend or three.

Beach combers

Finding shells

Skimming stones - who can resist it?

The wildlife was not quite so forthcoming. The promises of eagles I had made at Rhuval and Oa did not materialise (I blame the RSPB for this, they are in charge of birds after all) and the Bunnahabhain otters also hid from us. However, there was a lovely sighting of an otter for me as I left on the ferry from Port Askaig to take the first load down south. A female was sheltering from the ferocious tide by  hunting close to the rocks in the lee of the ferry itself. She popped up like a submarine surfacing, looked at me, winked (she DID!) and then disappeared.

I was very pleased that the hares, that abound (literally) on the island, performed superbly for the amazing friends who came to join me for my last three days. They helped me pack, load the van, get the house sorted out and ensured that I was able to take whatever remains of my sanity with me when me and the van were squished onto the ferry by the skilful CalMac folk at Port Askaig.

So, now I am resident in sunny Bracknell, but am sitting in Heathrow Terminal 2 while writing this before travelling to Cork for the weekend. The weather in Cork promises to be a series of 'soft days' (gentle rain), but I am looking forward to seeing it all again after so long.