Castlehill - then and now

Castlehill.

I loved it from the moment I walked in - it welcomed me - it was home. It was drafty in the westerly gales and subject to mildew. Sometimes it had sheep in its front garden. But it was cozy and warm and wonderful and had traditional highland charm. It held us close for three years and was filled with music, comradship, holiday celebrations and ceilidhs, teas with friends, dinners with neighbors, and presents from a beloved visiting cat.







Castlehill is still there today. It has been transformed into a beautifully appointed holiday home with under-floor heating, a well appointed kitchen with all the mod-cons, a lovely bath with heated towel racks, inviting bedrooms and a fabulous view from the new sun porch. You couldn't ask for a better place to relax, watch the sea and revel in the wonderful changing light on the islands and mountains across Loch Broom.


But gone are the bright red gates that marked our home even from out on the sea, and supported Old Glory on the 4th of July.

Now there is a proper drive going up to the house with an ordinary gate that says "House for Let".





The back of the house has been torn off and rebuilt and the house has a much more modern open plan. Everything has been improved for comfort and efficiency and is done very well. Gone is the clapboard kitchen with the diabolical sock-eating washing machine and the two tiny stacked refrigerators. The new kitchen is everything you could wish in modern conveniences.



Gone is the coal shed that I loved - the shed of sheep-lust fame. My seed wall no longer calls the birds to sing and swing in the rowan tree outside the kitchen window. Now there is a proper back entry to keep out bugs and slugs and things that go squish in the night.





The old steading has been cleaned up and landscaped - the jumble of artifacts from long ago no longer clutters the floor and crowds the spaces. Everything is neat and clean and well-ordered.





A graceful arch now leads from Drake's next door to Castlehill, where a wire-topped stone wall was once the only way to cross - a challenge to darling little boys climbing over to appear in our kitchen in their wellies - waiting for a natter and a drink with ice cubes.






Castlehill would be a wonderful place to spend a holiday.

But it is no longer our highland home.

Home again

We're back from traveling the Wee Mad Road and I'm still trying to sort out my impressions. So I'll give you my thoughts on one thing at a time. First of all - friends!

We were welcomed with open arms by many dear friends that we haven't seen for years. It was a joy to see them again and meet their children and grandchildren. When you get together with old friends it's as if you've never been apart - and even though we all may have a few more gray hairs (or a few less) - the years fall away and it's like old times. It is still a joy and a pleasure to be together and to swap stories of days gone by and to catch up with recent happenings and future plans. To be with these people again was the most important reason for going back to Coigach - and it was lovely!

"Should auld aquaintance be forgot ......"

Our first stop was on the east coast at Portmahomack - home to Jimmy and Ruth Philp who brought wonderful music across with them to Castlehill and were the occasion for many a great ceilidh. Their children are grown now, with children of their own.





This was yesterday......



and today................................................



On to Coigach and the village of Polglass where Anne (Irish)and Iain Campbell were our gracious hosts - giving us the use of Iain's father's old homestead, Tigh Abbie (see complete description in future post). Anne and Iain have visited us several times in the US and it was great to see them again! I can't believe they're grandparents now - and it was fun to meet their grandchildren - the youngest of whom is the same age her mother was when we lived there.

One of our first calls was to the Summer Isles Hotel pub, where we met "Big Leslie" - happy, healthy and not at all changed from when we first met her some twenty years ago.

The five of us in good form........................


Our neighbor Peter Drake, whose beautiful boat, Sea Swallow, was the source of our many fantastic seafood meals, still lives next door to Castlehill. His children are grown and flown to other parts of the world. But he still fishes for lobster and he and his wife, Midge, run a busy B&B business - including the rentals of Castlehill - now a self-catering cottage. We had a delightful visit with them.

.....Then ............................and now.....


At Achnahaird we spent a lovely evening with Ali and Jane West and Aileen Muir, owner of the Polbain Gift Shop, who came up from Polbain for the visit. What a joy to remember old times and hear stories about old Alisdair and Margaret West and our favorite storyteller, Jim Muir - and to catch up with the latest village gossip.


.....Then - Ali with Alisdair

....................................Now with wife Jane.........




Back at Polglass we had a visit from Ken the Bread, world traveler and reconteur. It was wonderful to see him again - and as usual he regaled us with very funny stories of his past escapades and local goings-on. Ken had worked with Jim Muir at the salmon fishing during the time we were in Coigach - and he misses Jim a lot.

....In the kitchen at Tigh-Abbie

....At the salmon fishing with Jim Muir

Back to Achnahaird and a visit with Ann and Ali Beag. Ali plays a mean accordian - he used to be shy about playing but now writes tunes and has several CD's to his credit. He and Peter Drake play in a Ceilidh band for local dances and we have a CD of their music which we play along with our slide show at fiber fairs. Ali has a devastatingly sharp wit and he and Ann are delightful conversationalists.

While we were visiting, Ali had to nip off to the school where he was to speak Gaelic with a tinker who was giving a talk about a tinker's life to the children.


......Then


....................and now......

Down to visit Evelyn Bolster. We used to spend many happy evenings with Evelyn and her husband Arthur and our neighbors Joy and Ian relaxing by a cosy fire and solving the problems of the world. A good dinner and a fine dram or two filled us with the wisdom needed for the job.

Evelyn and I used to practise a few

tunes together and even played for a lady's tea once. Evelyn has kept it up and now plays with a local music group and is doing very well. I, on the other hand, have let my guitar languish unplayed for many years, and now only join the singers at our neighborhood music nights. Sic semper gloria.

Our next visit was with Annie Sinclair, who with her husband, Boysie, owned and ran the Achiltibuie store and petrol pump for all the years we lived in Coigach. She always had a lovely smile and made a trip to the store a pleasure. Now retired she lives a few houses down from the store and it was delightful to visit with her again.


Finally we got to spend time with our friends Kester and Diana Armstrong and their lovely twin daughters. They own the cottage down beyond the very end of the road at Culnacraig. We were so lucky that that they had chosen this very week to come up from their home in Hexham to Holiday in Coigach. We have known Kester and Diana from before the time they were married and were finishing their legal studies back in the 80's. Their friendship has been a treasure for all these years.

We spent our last evening in Coigach at the now spiffied-up Fuaran pub having a delicious dinner with Anne and Iain and the Armstrongs. We had a wonderful time - warm and funny and filled with memories and plans for the future and just plain fun.

We thank whatever gods may be for the joy of knowing all these wonderful people and the priviledge of calling them our friends.

As Burn's song has said ....

"seas between us braid ha'e roared sin auld lang syne ...."

So .." here's a hand my trusty frien' and gie's a hand o' thine

We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet for auld lang syne"....

The road goes ever on....

We are set to fly off to Scotland next week. It will be the first trip back to the village since publishing the book and I'm really looking forward to seeing dear friends and our familiar mountains again. We'll drive the Wee Mad Road and take a lot of pictures (we've seen photos of Castlehill in its new guise - we'll share the ones we take).

We know things have changed even in the 5 or 6 years since we were last in Coigach. So many old friends have gone - and we will miss them terribly. But we'll be busy enjoying the friends who are still there - and are looking forward to seeing some special people who are coming up from the south to spend the week at their cottage down at the very end of the road. We've known Kestor and Diana since before they were married - seen them qualify for their professions at the University, marry and have children - and now their oldest is at Cambridge following his own star. Many of the children we knew when we lived in Coigach are married and have children of their own. When did we get so old?

But the hills and the sea and the islands are still the same - and I know our hearts will lift and rejoice while we're there - and that we will feel the same deep sorrow when we have to say good-bye.

I'll write again when we get home.

Fiber rocks!

Well - it's spring in Minnesota. The trees are blooming and the streets are lined with clouds of red, pink and white blossoms. The lilacs are coming into full bloom and the smell is so headily sweet - it's a joy to be alive.

The Mother's Day weekend, however, was cold and blustery and we were out at Lake Elmo selling books at the Shepherd's Harvest Fiber Fair. Luckily our booth was inside - but even so it took a long time for cold fingers to function properly first thing in the morning. But it was a great weekend. We sold a lot of books and got to talk to some really interesting people so it was a lot of fun. Quite a few folks stopped by who had read the book and made us feel wonderful by their kind comments. And that is the best reward of all.

The Shepherd's Harvest takes place every year and is full of wonderful fiber arts, musicians (some of whom make lovely instruments), and sheep, llamas, goats and rabbits - anything that can be plucked or shorn for wool and fiber. There are sheep shearing demos, animal judging and sheep dog demonstrations. This year they had all types of herding dogs from shelties to old English sheep dogs (along with the usual border collies who are always wonderful to watch). And they have some neat classes - and luckily Eileen felt well enough to take a couple of them and do a bit of spinning and carding too. Every year we've been there the fair has grown and now there are four large buildings full of exhibitors - lots to see and do and eat - and entry is free.

Maybe we'll see you there next year!

Little boy lost - and found

One night as we were sitting by the fire, the phone rang and a neighbor told us that a 2 year old boy was missing and feared wandering out in the bogs alone. She asked us to call other neighbors and meet at the Laird's cottage to form a search party. When we arrived at the house we found about 40 very concerned people gathered to begin the search.

The police had been called, and the Assynt Mountain Rescue Team along with the RAF (who had a helicopter) were at standby. The parents told us that the child had been put to bed upstairs, but when they went to check on him around 10:00 he was gone! The adults had been playing cards in the lounge - within sight of the outside door - but no one had heard anything or seen the boy leave the house. The frantic parents had searched the house from top to bottom and hadn't found him, so they called the police.

When the police arrived they organized people to go out to search the moor around the house. But I got to talking to our neighbor, Peter Drake, and we both felt sure that the child had to be in the house - it just didn't make sense that he could have left it unseen. So Peter and I and one of the policemen decided to make a thorough search - in cupboards, under beds, in drawers and suitcases - any space that might be possible for a little boy to creep into without being seen. We started at the top and were working our way through the second floor when Peter called out "Here he is!" And there inside a suitcase - a trunk really - was a sleepy, yawning, confused toddler. He'd been sound asleep through it all and his parents must have passed that way many times - but had never imagined that he could be sleeping in a suitcase!

All's well that ends well! So we had a cup of tea and walked back to Castlehill enjoying the warm, still, moonlit night and feeling that all was right with the world.

A fork in the road

Sometimes life sneaks up behind you and gives you a good whack upside the head - and sends you off down a fork in the road that you'd rather not be on. Obviously I haven't written a post for a long time. This is because at the end of November - after my last post - my dear fiber-obsessed daughter was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer and all of a sudden nothing else seemed important. I've been busy going along for tests, surgeries and doctor appointments and will continue to share with her whatever is to come. The road ahead is shaded - destination unknown - but travel it we must. Eileen has a blog on blogspot called "Looking at the world through rose-colored cancer" if you wish to follow the journey. It's not a pleasure trip.

But back to happier paths and past meanderings.

Klondykers

Summer was drawing to a close and autumn was coming on - the end of our first year in Coigach. Time again for the last dipping before the fall sheep sales in Dingwall. The young ewe lambs were taken back out to the islands and the government issue rams were ready to be brought into the parks to start the sheep cycle over again.

And it was time for the annual influx of the Klondykers - large factory ships from all over Europe who would come every year to anchor in Loch Broom and buy fish that they would process right there on the boats. Other large fishing boats would come into Loch Broom and the Minche to net and dredge and sell their catch to the factory ships. This could pose a problem for local fishermen who would sometimes have their prawn fleets dragged and damaged by the bigger boats. There were a lot of complaints about the dredgers because the locals thought they dug up and ruined the bottom - damage that could take years to repair itself. We could see the results of overfishing - population declines of herring and mackerel were obvious even in the short time we were there. And the advent of the EU with its regulations putting the Scottish fisheries at a disadvantage has made it even harder for local fisherman to make a go of it.

Russian and East German ships would lie at anchor for weeks but not let their men off the boats - just in case they'd decide not to come back. There was one East German captain that did come ashore, caught a bus to Inverness and then a ship to West Germany - his way to get across the wall. However, there was one Eastern European gang that was allowed to come into town - the Bulgarians evidently weren't unhappy with their lot and could be trusted to return to the boat. We were in the Ceilidh Place one night for dinner when about 10 Bulgarians decended on the place - all square, mustachioed, dressed in black leather and looking like trouble. But they sat and talked quietly like gentlemen - then went off to the stores to buy them out of coffee, nylons, and other stuff hard to get in the East.

From our front windows we could see the boats anchored in Loch Broom - they were all lit up at night and looked like a floating city. It was really quite pretty and made the scene festive while they were anchored there.