Corran Sands, Isle of Jura

The first job after breakfast this morning was to once again navigate the Calmac ferry website in order to book a ferry crossing today to the island of Islay. After a lot of exasperation and swearing we managed to secure a space on the lunchtime sailing. Talking to our Swiss neighbours we discovered they were also heading to Islay. See you there then. They are spending two months in Scotland and England  including Cornwall. Their van was quite large, but the chap had driven in Cornwall before and seemed quite unfazed by the narrow roads and tall hedgerows. He also thought the Scottish weather of sunshine and rain was perfect. Are we missing something here? 

We felt excited as we boarded our ferry at Kennacraig on Kintyre. The small islands we were heading for were new ground for us. As many of you may know, Islay and Jura are famed for whisky produced at the many distilleries.

Two hours after leaving the mainland we arrived at the tiny port of Askaig. This had been our eleventh ferry crossing since arriving in Scotland, and now we were about to embark on our twelfth, taking the small ferry that crossed the sound of Islay to Jura. Less than an hour later we arrived at a beautiful beach with views to die for.

 The bright blue waters and white sand  could rival many a beach in the Caribbean. Stunning. But the island is small, with only two hundred inhabitants. Back in the nineteenth century many people left to find better lives in America and Canada. George Orwell thought the island so peaceful he rented a whitewashed house, Barnwell House beneath the slopes of bog cotton and purple foxgloves in a remote area inaccessible by car, to write his final work 1984. The island is certainly the place if you want to get away from it all.

A poem written by an emigre from the Isle of to Jura,
to North Carolina in the United States.

Farewell to Jura
No more I'll climb the mountains high
To view the meeting sea and sky.
The stately vessels passing by
on every side of Jura

Give honour to the great the brave
The sordid souls the gold they crave
Give me a walk at dusky eve
Along the shores of Jura

How dear to me thy every scene
When sun shines o'er the Western Main
Or when he walks and spreads again
His golden beams o'er Jura

By simple nature's power impressed
There friendship glows in every breast
The stranger is a welcome quest
At every hearth in Jura

From strife of noisy towns secure
These mortals spend their lives obscure
And long may harmony endure
Throughout the Isle of Jura

Though n'er to tread thy shores again
My heart with thee shall aye remain
Where'er I wander I'll retain
My dearest wish for Jura

Jessie Scott, Knockintavill Farm
Feb 27th 1871