Blue Beyond

Peace at Last

In a recent interview Martin Shaw – famous for roles in The Professionals, Judge John Deed and George Gently – states that the impulse to solitude is an overpowering force in his life. “I’m sensitive to electromagnetic interference and mental noise. It’s why I can’t cope with the city. I need stillness. Not just physical quietness, but atmospheric quietness, spiritual quietness. Less mental noise.”

He escapes periodically to a remote crofter’s cottage in south-west Galloway to find the quietness and the peace he needs.

I’m not too sure what electromagnetic interference is but I’m glad that the island offers those who live here – and those who visit – a place of physical and spiritual quietness – and an opportunity to reflect and re-create.

Tired and Emotional

We’re coming to the end of what seems like a busy summer on the island – lots of visitors, lots of busy boats and planes and lots of unsettled weather. Summers don’t seem the same – or perhaps it’s a trick of memory.

As a child I can remember endless days of sunshine. Favourite activities were running through long grass trailing a stick, lying under trees in the shade, squashing tar bubbles at the side of the road and sucking orange Jubblies. Less idyllic activites involved impaling myself on barbed wire, picking road gravel out of my knees after a spill on the bike and falling out of trees into ‘tramps hats’.

Visitors to the island seem to enjoy the peace and quiet – and they tell me they experience ‘elastic’ time where days all roll together and keeping track of where they are in the week becomes impossible.

Perhaps on the island we haven’t altogether lost those ‘Lazy Hazy Crazy Days of Summer’ that Charles Tobias wrote about in 1963.

Reaching the Heights

With its trinity of very lowly hills, Ben Hynish, Ben Hough and Kenavara, Tiree will never experience the cut-throat world of mountain
classification. All three hills are under 150 metres and are well out
of the running for Corbett or Munroe status.

One of Scotland’s Munros has recently been demoted, taking the total number of the highest hills in Scotland from 284 to 283. Sgurr Nan Ceannaichean will henceforth be classified as a Corbett by the Munro Society, who announced the change at a press conference recently.

The mountain, in the far north, is now officially listed at 913.43m, just under the magic 914.4m (3000ft) mark.

Three other hills, in the frame for reclassification, have had their official height changed but remain in their groups. Beinn Teallach has had 40cm taken off its peak, but remains a Munroe. Ben Vane has ‘grown’ 76cm and is now recorded as 915.76m. One of the highest Corbetts, Sgurr a’ Choire-bheithe, has had 32cm added to now total 913.32m, but remains in the second grouping.

It all reminds me of earlier days when my sister and I used to stand against the doorframe in the kitchen to have our heights ‘officially’ recorded by a pencil mark. At least our recorded heights always increased and we were never demoted – unless there had been some judicious amendments carried out in the night!!!

Ben Hough

Thumbs Down

Tiree seems to be setting its face against a recent hitch hiking survey by the AA which reveals that only one in ten drivers would consider stopping to offer a lift to a stranger at the side of the road. Reasons given include cheaper coach travel, growth in car ownership and personal safety fears.

On the island anyone walking at the roadside is offered a lift – whether they have an extended thumb or not. In lots of cases the lift turns into a taxi service with arrangements made to collect the hitcher once they have done their shopping, or visited the doctor, and return them to their home. Personal safety and coach travel obviously doesn’t over-rule hospitality. Refreshingly, in some cases the lift is refused because it’s a nice day and the focus of the hospitable act just wants to enjoy a nice walk across this lovely island.

In one memorable hitch-hiking trip from Bristol to Newcastle – I was dropped unceremoniously on the hard shoulder at the M18 Junction on my way to the A1. After a short, and illegal, walk on the hard shoulder I was ‘instructed’ to leave the motorway by two less than helpful traffic policemen. After a cross country walk and a short bus ride I arrived in Pontefract before a short walk to the A1 and my homeward journey. My abiding memory of the town is rain-soaked cobbled streets. If only I’d been on Tiree I would have received ‘five star’ treatment!!!

Pontefract in the 1970's - cobbles and a grey sky.