Stranded on Jura

On my first visit to Jura, in 1999, my wife and I spent a week at the Isle of Jura Hotel. Every weekday we got used to the sight of a bus taking school children to Feolin, where the ferry to Islay departs. On our last morning on Jura the wind was howling, and the rain was coming down in buckets. And after breakfast we watched as the bus, full of excited children, passed the hotel in Craighouse, once again on its way to the ferry.

Shortly afterwards, we loaded our bags in the car, and set out for the ferry. Halfway there we saw the bus, still full of even more excited children, coming back to Craighouse. The driver waved us down and told us the ferry was not running: it was too stormy. Wanting to see what the Sound of Jura looked like we carried on to Feolin, and as we reached the jetty gale force winds rocked the car back and forth. Just beyond the jetty was an impressive sight; white-caps flowing and blowing through the Sound, of Jura. A ferry workers confirmed that we were indeed Stranded on Jura (has a nice sound to it, doesn't it).

So we turned around and returned to the hotel. Since no one could leave the island, no one could get there, and so our room was still available. So we unpacked and settled in for another night on Jura. It was far too stormy to do anything outside, so we spent the day reading. Normally I'd have been frustrated by not being able to get out for a walk, but I was still sore from a marathon walk to Breackan's Cave the previous day (see book 1, chapter 5). The storm subsided that evening, and the next day we returned to the mainland without incident.