I’m ashamed to say that I am more familiar with the continent of Africa than I am with local Landmass. Well, ashamed isn’t the right word…it’s not for lack of wanting to venture throughout Britannia’s realms, more an inherent British desire to experience that long-sought sunlight that sends our vitamin-D-deprived bodies fleeing from our island.
An Easter break on the Scottish Isle of Mull offered a chance to explore a remote, legendary land we didn’t need passports for. Driving through the northern counties we were rewarded with snow-capped hills, chilly loch waters, rambling stone walls and depleting civilisation. Signs naming a familiar African favourite, David Livingstone popped up as we neared his birthplace. It was stunning and hard to believe we were on British soil.
Our less-than-humble abode stood majestically – if a wee bit ominously – a hop from Loch Uisg. Rainbow-light poured through stained glass windows, a locked turret lured us with mysteries, heightened by rumours of a ‘ghost cat’ inhabitant, grand fireplaces and view-pondering windows commandeered huge, high-ceilinged rooms. The views were well worth pondering. Barren, ochre, undulating landscapes guarded glittering waters; only a church and distant smoke plumes reminded us other humans roamed here. Exquisite sunsets fell from Scottish skies, casting our silhouettes against a kaleidoscope of colour. We toasted nights away with six different whiskies. Well, when in Mull…
Fresh, sunny Easter mornings blew whisky-heads away strolling through wild, desert-like countryside. Golden eagles circled, otters sunbathed, sheep wandered willy-nilly, highland cattle peered out under shaggy manes. It was a Hebridean safari!
Bracing walks, epic seafood, roaring fires and wildlife aplenty, Scotland made us feel revitalised indeed. There’s far more on the UK’s doorstep then I ever imagined.