Crossed the ferry at Lochaline, turned of at Salen, and over to West Coast of Mull. Rounding headlands, with views of Coll, we arrived at a reasonably deserted Calgary Bay. My first time.
The sea was clear and cold. Little flatfish dashed away from underfeet. Fronds of kelp broken,and in places stirred like a black porridge, the sand hard from the sea. The kids had a great time.
Lunch at the Calgary Hotel – okay. The adjacent gallery – vertical clad in timber with a tin roof – attracted my attention. Light, cheap, local, and part of the Highland vernacular – what have the planners got against timber and tin.
My grandfather lived here briefly in the 1930’s- before returning to Skye. His stepfather worked at the sawmill. The ruined remains are within the galleries woodland walk. When he was growing up the laird didnt allow anyone on the beach or dunes. Occasionally in summer the boys were allowed to play football. Perhaps that might have limited the erosion. The dunes are worn and slipping, fences and brash lines coves, a foothold for the sand. Telltale holes of sandmartins, quickly flight.
‘Coffee and Books’ in Dervaig, chips on the pier in Tobermoray, home.