And then there was Hogmanay

We have nothing like it in the US. It is delightful and exhausting and terribly social - at least a week of non-stop visiting and ceilidhs and music. The tradition of "first-footing" - the first time you step over a neighbor's threshold in the New Year - means that everyone in the village goes off on rounds of visiting everyone else. You either are entertaining guests at home or are off driving around going to other peoples homes and they entertain you and anyone else that shows up. And that means offering a dram and a bite to eat. The old people who don't go out serve sherry and tea and goodies to those who come to visit - and no one is forgotten. The rest of the people around the penninsula drive about and drop in wherever there's a light on.

After the pub closes most people go off to someone's house for a night of partying - lots of singing and playing all kinds of instruments - and everyone brings a bottle or a six-pack. This can go on all night and after a week we could hardly move - we just weren't in condition yet!

It was during this first Hogmanay we had our first Castlehill ceilidh. We made popcorn for the first time - no one had ever tasted it except for the disgustingly sweet stuff they serve in movie theaters in the cities. People were leery of tasting it - then said it tasted sort of like styrofoam - then pollished off many batches - just to be polite! It was the start of a ceilidh tradition, for our house became a regular ceilidh house and many a night after the pub closed people would drift in and our home was always filled with music.

Our Merry First Christmas

When we moved to the Highlands the last thing we thought of packing was Christmas ornaments, and there really was nothing available in our area. So I set about making my own out of paper and yarn and whatever. A friend sent me crocheted stars and some village friends brought us cookies pierced for hanging. And though our tree was the closest thing I've ever seen to Charlie Brown's poor pathetic specimen, by the time we finished hanging our decorations it was really quite festive. It was the first Christmas tree ever in Castlehill.

Jack's birthday is right before Christmas and Joanie made him one of her famous Clootie Dumplings - so rich and spicy and good. We went to the panto (see our book for details) and Jack played Father Christmas at the kiddie party - they seemed to enjoy it even if he had a funny accent. I think people were extra kind because they knew we'd be missing home and family. Joanie came in on Christmas eve laden down like Santa Claus with two bottles of wine, a chicken for the freezer, two etched glasses and beer mug that Aileen Muir (owner of the local gift shop) had made, and a little poem just for us. There was an especially beautiful star over Tanera that night.

On Christmas day we went down to Joan and Murdo's for a wee sherry and to bring them their gifts. Wilf and Wendy had us over for a beautiful turkey dinner and in the evening we went to Irish Ann's for a fantastic ceilidh - singing and dancing into the wee hours. We still missed our family - but the people in Coigach were so warm and welcoming that it made our first Christmas here one of the best ever!

Winter

As winter drew on I decided that it had to be the most beautiful season of the year. The sun was low in the sky - getting light around 9:00 a.m. and setting around 3:30 (we were on the same latitude as Fairbanks and Novosibursk). The daylight hours were like one long sunrise-sunset with the colors changing from pink and gold to blue and gold and back again, reflecting on the silver sea and the snowy peaks across the loch. Just before Christmas we had a week of snowy weather - and with the sheep dotting the hillsides, the cottages with their smoking chimneys and our red gates at the bottom of the garden, it was like looking out at a beautiful Christmas card.

On one particularly lovely day we took a picnic and went up on the mast hill behind our house. The air was clearer than I'd ever seen it. We could see that the Isles of Lewis and Harris stretched across almost the whole horizon and displayed some spectacular cliff scenery. We saw islands that we didn't recognize at all, and to the south we could see Steor, Quinag and the Cuillins on Skye - unbelievable visability in all directions!

People in the village kept telling us that this was truly unusual winter weather - and if we stayed around long enough we'd find that out. Naive as we were we felt it couldn't possibly be worse than a Minnesota winter with its 30 below temps and piles of snow to shovel. Ha!

Countdown to the holidays

So - we were approaching our first holiday season away from our families. For me at least it was the first time in 40 odd years I hadn't spent Thanksgiving and Christmas surrounded by family and friends - the first time in 22 years we hadn't given our traditional Christmas party. We had started our party tradition the 2nd year of our marriage and the same people were still coming - their one commonality being our party. They'd see each other once a year and catch up with the year's happenings - have a great time with each other - then it was "see you next year". So I was feeling a bit lonesome and homesick as the holiday season approached.

As it turned out - our Thanksgiving was quite an experience (see the whole crazy story in our book) - and I didn't have time to sulk! We then decided to go down to London for a few days in December to shop and enjoy the city lights and decorations (Christmas was not celebrated much in Coigach) and maybe see a show. We were lucky and got a special price (130 pounds for the two of us for train and 2 nights at the St. Irmin's in Westminster). As it turned out the day we left for London was the coldest and worst weather in 30 years. The water pipes had frozen on the train so there was no water or heat - but the compartment was comfy with lots of blankets so we slept well. The St. Ermin's is a beautiful hotel and decorated for Christmas it was a real pleasure. We shopped, had lunch with London friends, went to a carol concert at Royal Albert Hall, evensong at St. Paul's, saw the Great Japan exhibit and ate at a charming Czech restaurant.

But as much as we enjoyed the city life, we were glad to go back to Coigach. We arrived back and were met at the gate by 6 sheep and a cat - a most vociferous welcome. And spread across sky and sea - the most glorious sunset we'd ever seen. It was good to be home.

Laundry was definitely not us

Castlehill was furnished with a washing machine - of sorts. It was the same kind my family had when I was a kid - my mother's pride and joy (it still worked after my sister plugged it right through the label with a 22 rifle slug - but that's another story). Ours in Castlehill was a mixed blessing. It would stop working - either in whole or in parts - for no discernible reason. One day it had given up the ghost (again) and we thought there might be something gumming up the works so we got a coat hanger to make a fishing device and from the spinner part removed several green, slimy socks - must have been years in the making. Some friends who had stopped in for tea took one look at what we were doing and beat a hasty retreat.

When the spinner didn't work we had to drag out an old hand-powered ringer we found in the old barn. Then - drying was the fun part. If it wasn't bucketing down rain, or blowing hard enough to snatch the clothes off the line and carry them off to the Black Isle, we could hang them out on lines strung beside the house. This was often complicated by the pet sheep we had visiting in our garden, whose digestive systems were working quite efficiently thank you. Dropping the edge of a sheet or a sock on the ground meant that we would have to face the *!#$% washing machine again. So mostly the wet laundry was hanging in strategic locations around the house - usually strung on a wooden rack blocking one source of heat or another. We lived in a miasma of wet wool - inside and out.

The Ceilidh Place

As the autumn progressed there were more musicians and entertainers coming into the West Highlands - many of them sponsored by the Highlands and Islands Arts Board. Sometimes a band would come out to Coigach and play at the village hall, but more often they would go to what had become our favorite Ullapool haunt, the Ceilidh Place. It was a wonderful place for us - it had everything: hotel, pub, restaurant (where they played classical music tapes), bookstore and performance space. It was owned by Robert (of acting fame) and Jean Urqhart - lovely, friendly people who always made us feel welcome. The place was cozily traditional - and the food was the best. It was always a treat to go there.

We saw several plays at the Ceilidh Place, and musicians from the Scottish National Orchestra played there several times during the years that we lived in Coigach. It was the first time I became aware of the wonderful horn player, Barry Tuckwell. I feel privileged to have heard him play in such an intimate venue. They also had a folk club - a smaller space for local and traveling folk musicians to come and play together. It was altogether a haven for us - good restaurant food and entertainment being in rather short supply in that part of the country.

Now although Robert is no longer with us, his wife, Jean, is still the hostess and the Ceilidh Place is still going strong - and if you visit Ullapool be sure to drop in - you're bound to find something to please your fancy.

Murdo & the Fuaran

Meanwhile we were getting to know our neighbors and spending many an evening at our local pub (the Fuaran which is in Altandhu - the next little village up the road) - playing darts, talking and singing. One night we met Donny Darling's brother who told us of his experiences in the war. He was captured during the blitzkrieg in France and spent two years in a German POW camp mining coal. He escaped to Poland and joined the resistance and fought with them until he was recaptured. Again he escaped and spent the rest of the war foraging in Russia. He owns a house in Polbain just a few doors down from us but now lives with his wife in England.

Old Murdo loved to go to the Fuaran - he would go every Saturday before he had his stroke. He always loves to hear our reports about who was there and what they said and who's doing what. Wilf and Wendy never go to the pub - we never have figured out why.

Murdo and Joanie were becoming dearer to us all the time. Joan gave us a photo of Murdo as a younger man that was on the front cover of "Ross Shire" magazine - so I decided to use it to do a painting of him with his beloved Tanera in the background. I framed it and gave it to them to put up in their lounge - then did another one for us to keep. I would have loved to have known Murdo then - although maybe we wouldn't have become so close or heard all the wonderful old stories if he had not always been there to visit with.