Next winter, when the weather in Hamilton is so horrific that it seems as if it is snowing from the ground up, I am going to close my eyes and think about the Isle of Arran! We have just returned from a long weekend to the Isle, and I can safely say that it’s one of the most beautiful spots I have ever been. It has rugged mountains, glowing glens, sandy beaches, coastal cliffs, green pastures, fields of flowers, flocks of sheep, and the bluest, cleanest ocean I have seen this side of the Caribbean. In short, it’s achingly lovely!
The Isle of Arran is always called “Scotland in miniature” by the guidebooks…and not because it’s full of wee Scotsmen munching on tiny Mars bars fritters and sipping sample-size bottles of peaty whisky. It’s because the island has markedly different topography in the two parts of the island, just as Scotland’s topography changes drastically as one heads north into the Highlands. The northern half of Arran is rugged and mountainous, while the southern part features gentle, green hills and rocky beaches. The island is small—only about 4,000 people live there year-round, and the road that circles the island is just over 50 miles long. Since that road is the only one, save a small road that cuts the island into two called “String Road,” it means that driving around the island affords breathtaking views. And since the road goes around one hairpin turn after another, it’s one of the few remote roads in Scotland that actually has two lanes. Still, driving can be treacherous there—mostly because many bikers come to the isle to ride the road that circles the island, and we invariably came upon one in our lane every time we were about to come to the crest of a hill or a blind turn—a situation that has all the makings of a spectacular head-on collision!
We took the ferry over from Ardrossan on Saturday afternoon, and we were all impressed with the way the nose of the ferry boat swung open to allow us to drive our car up the ramp and onto the boat. Once our car was parked, we got out and climbed to one of the top decks to enjoy the view (and the wind!). The ferry ride lasted about an hour, and then we arrived in the very small town of Brodick on the Isle. We drove off (another adventure, especially since we discovered why the sign above our head warned us to depress the parking brake of our car…and we came to this realization as the floor of the boat began to tip forward to allow us to drive off!) and headed north to Lochranza, an even smaller “town” on the very northern tip of the island. We stopped along the way two times to let the kids scramble around on the rocky beaches and look for seals in the water (we didn’t see any, though once I yelled “stop” to David when I saw one perched on a huge rock with its tail in the air, then realized that it was only a statue of a seal!), and made it to Lochranza for dinner. While David and I cooked (we were staying in yet another hostel…), the kids went down to the bay and walked along the ocean. At least, that’s what they told me they were going to do. When they came back 30 minutes later, soaked from the knee down, I realized they had just walked through the ocean, and since Emma had ignored my suggestion to bring more than one pair of shoes, I was not happy. I cancelled our post-dinner plans to visit Lochranza Castle, and sent them both to bed. It was past nine p.m. at this point anyway, but since the sun hadn’t yet set, I think they got my message!
On Sunday, we headed south down the other side of the island and stopped for a hike to the Machrie Moor stone circles. Arran is full of these circles, which were “built” during the Neolithic period, for reasons that no one really understands. Some people suspect that they were used in religious rituals, while others think they have some astronomical use. There’s even a story that one of the larger circles, made up of standing stones about 15 feet tall, was used by the warrior Fingal to keep his dog away from his dinner. Apparently, that was before the invention of the leash! The stones were interesting, but what actually was more fascinating to us was the walk to the stones. I had asked the woman at the hostel how to get to the stones and where to park when we arrived, so was prepared with the knowledge that we were supposed to park in a little gap in the fence of a farmer’s field, as long as we didn’t park in front of the gate. She told us that we should cross the road and go through a sheep farm, then up a hill and down a small path to get there. But it still felt strange to just open the gate to the pasture and traipse right through. David kept saying, “Are you sure we’re supposed to do this?” and I just shrugged as we startled a group of small lambs napping in the sun, while John walked in awe, saying repeatedly, “Wow, I can’t believe we’re allowed to do this!” But the Scottish government passed a law in 2003 that basically says anyone can walk anywhere, provided they act responsibly. It’s called the Scottish Outdoor Access Code, and it was passed to give visitors and residents access to the Scottish countryside and encourage hill walking (and Munro bagging, the Scottish sport of climbing hills over 3,000 feet). The law even gives statutory rights of access to campers as well, meaning that anyone can pretty much pitch a tent anywhere one likes in Scotland as long as it doesn’t cause inconvenience to others (also meaning that you’re quite likely to turn a corner on a hike and practically step on a tent that someone has pitched…this we know from experience!). I’m pretty sure that John’s launching himself off the sacred stones while I videoed the whole thing crosses the line of acting responsibly in someone’s book, but not ours!
After the visit to the stone, we waved goodbye to the relieved flock of sheep and continued south a few more miles to Blackwaterfoot, where we parked in yet another farmers’ field for a hike along the coast to King’s Cave. The hike was much longer than we thought, but since it was right along the cliffs to the ocean, it was gorgeous and well worth the “are we there yet” chants coming from the kids. King’s Cave is the spot where, according to legend, Robert the Bruce pondered giving up on the Scottish fight for independence from the English. As he hid in the cave, he saw a spider attempting to build a web on the slippery wet walls of the cave. The web kept collapsing, but the spider didn’t give up and eventually succeeded—not only in building the web but in inspiring Robert the Bruce to crawl out of the
cave and return to war to defeat the English at the battle of Bannockburn. When we finally arrived, David said under his breath, “I think I’m going to need to see a spider somewhere in this cave to convince me to hike all the way back to the car!” We didn’t see one, though I did see a small girl convince her father to pick her up for the return uphill hike after begging for about 10 minutes. I wonder if that counts?
By this time, it was well past lunch, so we stopped at the Balmichael farm, which has a small tea shop in front, complete with big deep leather couches and tartan-pattern carpets. We had paninis and pizza, and managed to get the kids out without buying them ice cream by promising them a trip the beaches on the southern part of the island. We headed there next, and David and I got in about an hour of reading our books on the sand while the kids built sand castles and climbed on the rocks. We saw very few other people on the beach, though when we went for a short walk, John jumped over a rock pier and almost landed on a bivouac sack that someone had pitched there. Gotta love that Scottish Outdoor Access Code!
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