Arran

[Sundae]

.

[Sundae]

We walked past a number of standing stones and circles.
This one just felt right.
There was a stone I was drawn to. As I went around it I saw the moss? lichen? on the other side. As Mark Gatiss says as Mick McNamara, "Life finds a way."

[Sundae]

Here is me.
Cold and sad.
But Limey gives very good hugs.

Details of our goodbye to Claudette here (Cellar link).

[Undertoad]

I am in awe.

[Nirvana]

Thanks for sharing Sundae. A brighter day is coming ...

[Sundae]

Well now.
It seems to be wrong moving on so quickly from death to life. It didn't feel like that in the course of hours though.

Saturday was the day when the K social club opened. It was a big deal. Limes was woven into the very carpet of it; it could not have happened without her. So of course I wanted to be there too. And it was catered. Blimey, I can't think of a more relevant wake for Brianna. Apart from the fact that the woman wasn't there. Damn, she was never present in reality, how come she's so absent in my life now?

Mr & Mrs Limey went to the social club at about 18.00.
I knew there'd be nothing for me to do other than sit and drink. So I agreed to get the bus about 20.00. I was all ready to leave - dressed to impress and the house in decent condition - at about 19.40. I decided I would set off on foot.

Okay I am wearing my slightly stack-heeled boots, but I wore them up to Glasgow and found them damned comfortable. And I had Lola's torch (flashlight) to light the way. I even had an umbrella because that night the rain was light and there was very little wind.

Perfick.

AH. No.
Bus went past me outside the Creamery (cheese factory)
I lost my perspective. I was so close to the hall, and having successfully beaten the bus I started casting the torch further ahead. Missed the deep and muddy pothole by my feet. There was a sickening lurch as I fell into it. I wanted to cry. I'd made a real effort that night and I'd walked nearly two miles and I was sober and all that. And yet I was going to turn up at the door as a shambling wreck.

I held my tears in.
I got to the door.
Mr Limey greeted me and was appalled by my injuries. Most of which were dealt with by a trip to the Ladies to be honest.

Limey was already on stage. Mr Limey got me a drink and steered me into the hall.
I was punctured, but happy. Twas a good evening.

[Sundae]

It's been a week, but I'm still bruised. Must remember to take a pic for you.
Limey modelling her band "uniform". They all wear black ('cept the singer)

Limes chooses the Cellar. Good girl.

[Sundae]

Me.
Well, there are never enough photos of me on the Cellar, right?

Taken in dim light, so although Limey kindly took about four, the only one in focus was me looking away from the camera.
I've included a blurry one as proof.
And it shows Limey's gorgeous house and the room we ate in every evening.

[Sundae]

Oh, forgot to mention I fell into a muddy, deep pothole in a dry-clean only silk skirt.
£12.50 to clean.
I bought it for about a quarter of that amount.

Send all donations to Claudette's family.

[classicman]

Just went though this entire thread. Absolutely amazing.

Where you went, how you traveled, all the walking. The scenery ... OMG. Unreal no words. And you. My goodness, you look beautiful. You seem to be 1/2 the woman you were - and I mean that in a good way

There's Limey. Luckily she's taken or I'd be thinking of making a major move east across the sea. lol

[DanaC]

This thread is awesome. I have been seeing the posts as they've come in, but I just went back and read again from the start. Taken together it reads like the very best travel literature. Not the guide books, but the tales of real travel and real people and an emotional core. You have the knack of bringing your reader right into the picture.

And it was lovely to be able to share in your tribute to our dear friend. Really means a lot that.

Also: you and Limes both look so great. You've got some excellent snaps there.


[eta] Boots look fine, girl, really fine.

[Sundae]

Sundae, off to Eas Mor Falls.
Sunday too.
I'd asked Limey if it was worth seeing because I passed the sign on my way to Kildoran. She said it depended on the recent rainfall. Given that I'd been rained on every day since I arrived (okay, not the day I arrived) I guessed it was worth a trip. Limey was working again, but I was happy to walk the three miles to the turn-off. She agreed to pick me up.

Only I didn't have to walk - hahaha.
I was about a mile and a half down the road when a black shiny car pulled up and offered me a lift.
Well it was so black and so shiny and it was raining so how could I refuse?
Lovely Scottish couple. Came to Arran this time every year to avoid the tourists. I mean, yes they were lovely, but they were obviously crackers. They CHOSE to come in the rain/ sleet/ hail / snow (all of which I saw)?

I could understand the lady, but the man was frankly unintelligible to me. Bless him. Anyway, they took me to the turn-off and wished me well.

Limes said that the initial climb was a bit taxing. Or something like that. Something that suggested it might be like dragging a bag across Glasgow.

NO.

It was torture. I had to stop every hundred yards to catch my breath. My heart decided it didn't want to be in my body any more. At least that's how it felt when it was trying to beat an exit. Steep?! I should bloody cocoa.

But it was marvellous too. Every other step raised you above the road and looking back after ten steps showed an amazing achievement. And it was soon done, for all my moaning. Underneath the chubby outside I am actually quite fit, something I hope Limey will attest to when she is finally back on the National Grid (oh, the power outage on Arran is now national news.)

The falls were gorge. In a gorge, ya get me?
You could hear them from quite a way off.
The only insect in the ointment was a biker. Cyclist. Set off after me, but overtook me. Lean and muscular but even he had to carry his bike up the steep parts.

What an annoyance. Sunday morning, MARCH! cold and wet and I still don't have the place to myself. Ridiculous. But I channelled peace. It's hard not to in a place like that.

[Sundae]

The woods were lovely, green and deep.
And this was just the beginning. You could hear the road from here.
M. Biker had climbed over the fence to get a closer look at the Falls. Rather him than me, I still had the memory of last night's Fall in my mind. A slip from the top of there would result in more than a muddy skirt.

[Sundae]

Onwards and upwards, as Limey and I said many times during my visit.

Given that Bike Chap had headed over the bridge to the little community centre, I decided not to dog his steps. And given that I hadn't walked the full three miles, I thought the further walk, to Loch Garbad (a mile it said) would be good further exercise.

I'm glad I did.
The silence and peace in the woods was almost tangible. On the way back I sneezed and it rang around the forest like a maroon. But I'm getting ahead of myself here.

Thank goodness for boots (wellies, not stack heels) and waterproofs. It was almost all uphill and I felt like I was Bilbo Baggins. Without the company. Nothing like home, it felt so remote. I forgave it the petty annoyances of mud, water, rain and climbs. Maybe the Scottish couple weren't fruitloops after all - I can't imagine better weather to make this journey in.

[Sundae]

Stream.
Stream across the track.
Not the last I would encounter either.

And water. Always water. To offset the silence of the trees.