Four Winds Lookout Tower - Islay

I returned to Islay last month to spend the better part of a week. The highlight of the trip was the place where I stayed, the Four Winds Lookout Tower. It is a former coast guard facility that has been renovated into stunning, self-catering accommodation. Standing high above Pornahaven, at the tip of the Rinns of Islay peninsula, it has an expansive view overlooking the lighthouse island of Orsay and the far-off coast of Ireland. In the first photo, the tower is visible on the hill above Portnahaven.

The view from the top-floor bedroom was breathtaking. It was like being in the wheelhouse of a ship at sea. Centerstage was Orsay Island, home to the Rinns of Islay Lighthouse. Each day's end was marked at twilight, when the light started flashing every five seconds; flashes that continued until daybreak.

The ground floor has a fully equipped kitchen and a combined shower/toilet room, another echo of a ship at sea. 

The top-floor bedroom was reached by a near-vertical ladder, one that reminded me of the steep stairs down to the cabins on many of the ships I'd been on over the years.

Every night but one was a peaceful paradise. On the third night, I was woken by a loud banging on the door. Wondering what the hell was going on, I climbed down the ladder and looked out the door. I found myself face-to-face with a dozen sheep, their noses pressed up to the tower, who'd found a place to shelter from the wind.

Four Winds is truly unique, and I hope to return someday. Adding to the appeal, a friendly pub, An Tigh Seinnse, is a short walk away.

For more information on Four Winds, the website is: https://www.fourwindsislay.co.uk/

Private Roy Muncaster - R.I.P.

While on Islay last week, I made my way to Kilnaughton Military Cemetery, a mile west of Port Ellen. It's a small cemetery, with around a dozen tombstones. Many tourists pass by the cemetery without even knowing it's there, when they drive the hilly single track to the Mull of Oa. For, it is on the Mull that you'll find the American Monument: a sixty-foot-tall stone tower that commemorates the Otranto disaster off the shore of Kilchoman in 1918 and the sinking of the Troopship Tuscania by the UB-77 earlier that year. (For more on the Otranto, see the October 11, 2019 post.)

The Kilnaughton Military Cemetery lies above the beach, northeast of the burial ground that surrounds the fifteenth-century ruin of the chapel of St Nechtan. The only American still interred in the military cemetery is Roy Muncaster, a Private in the US Army, who perished when Tuscania was torpedoed. Before joining the Army, Muncaster had been a forest ranger in the Olympic Mountains of Washington State, where the 5,910-foot-high Muncaster Mountain, fifty miles west of my home in Seattle, is named for him. With the lone exception of Muncaster, all the American victims of the Otranto and Tuscania disasters were returned to the States or buried in the American Military Cemetery in Surrey. Muncaster’s parents wanted him to remain where he died, here on beautiful Islay.

Islay to Cork - Day 7 - Dunyvaig, Singing Sands, and Island Soaring

On my last Islay day I woke to drenching rains and strong winds. I had to catch a flight to Oban at 3pm, so that gave me six hours to fill. After checking out of the Port Charlotte Hotel, I got in my tiny hire car and set out to pay a visit to Dunyvaig Castle near the Lagavulin Distillery. As I drove through Port Ellen, and on to Lagavulin, I passed by streams of people afoot: some under umbrellas, some under ponchos, all walking the footpath on their way to take a tour of the distillery.  Every tourist I'd met that week only had one thing on thier mind: the distilleries. After passing Lagavulin I turned right down a rough single track to find a parking spot overlooking Dunyvaig Castle. As I hit the brakes the car shuddered as its metal-on-metal brakes slowly ground me to a halt. I was hoping the brakes would last long enough to get me safely to the airport in a few hours. 

From the parking area it was a short, aromatic, walk to the castle. The winds were shifting: when they were from the south you could smell the sea, when they were from the north you could smell the malty aroma of the distillery.

Even though a sign warned that the castle ruins were dangerous, I tried to find a way into the tower. But a section of the walkway that led to it had collapsed, and trying to step over it would not end well.

The castle dates to between the 13th and 15th centuries. Its Gaelic name is Dun Naomhaig. A 'naomhaig' is a sea galley, and until about 1500 AD the fort was a naval base for the Lord of the Isles.

Off in the distance (to the left) in the next photo you can see the island of Texa. I had been hoping to get there this trip, and had exchanged e-mails with Islay Sea Safari a month earlier. They'd indicated then that they could take me to the island. But they had failed to reply to any of the emails, or voice mails, I'd left over the past few days, so Texa would have to wait for another time.

Once back in the car I drove through Port Ellen, then followed a coastal track to the west. At the big cemetery above Kilnaughton Bay I turned left, then slowly drove down a rough track to a small parking area north of the Carraig Fhada Lighthouse. Under a heavy downpour I set out on foot towards the lighthouse.

I soon came upon a sign that pointed right that read 'Singing Sands'. I turned right to follow a path that led up and over a low ridge, then dropped down to a small beach of reddish-brown sand. Its name on the map is Traigh Bhan (the fair, or white beach), and it is also known as the Singing Sands of Islay. I had been to the singing sands of Eigg, and was looking forward to hearing the sands of Islay sing.

Once on the beach I started to scuff my boots across the sands. Not a squeak or a squawk was to be heard. I kept trying, dragging my feet over most of the beach - an onlooker would wonder just what that crazy guy was doing on the beach. But with all the recent rain the sand was too wet to sing. So I headed back to take a look at the Carraig Fhada Lighthouse, passing along the way a herd of feral goats. (You can hear a sample of the Eigg Sands singing here.)

The Carraig Fhada lighthouse was built in 1832 by the Campbell laird of Islay in memory of his wife who'd died that year. An interesting series of narrow walkways and bridges take you out to the lighthouse. 

It was a very wet hiker who returned to the car. I then drove to the airport, where I parked at 'Terminal 2'. That's what they call it, anyway. It is a small hut, 1000 feet north of the main terminal, and is where you board flights operated by Hebridean Air Services. My flight to Oban would go via Colonsay, and I was looking forward to seeing over a dozen islands along the way. I had an hour to wait for the arrival of the airplane. During that time the rain stopped, and it gradually turned into a sunny day.

The yellow Islander airplane touched down right on time and taxied to a stop. The last time I was on an Islander was the Kirkwall/Westray/Papa Westray flight in 2014 (see this post). In short order we were rolling down the runway on our way to Colonsay.

A minute after takeoff we soared past Nave Island and the Ardnave peninusula where I'd walked the day before.

Next up was the north coast of Islay, followed by five miles of open sea to Oronsay and Colonsay.

As we soared over Oronsay I could see Seal cottage just above the beach, and in the distance Oronsay Priory.

We also got a good look at Ben Oronsay, topped by Carn cul ri Eirinn.

We then started banking left over the shallow strand between Oronsay and Colonsay to make the approach to Colonsay airfield. Two minutes later we were on the ground.

One passenger boarded, and five minutes later we were rolling down the runway.

As we climbed we were rewarded with a grand view of Kiloran Bay and the cliffs of Uragaig.

As we headed to the northwest the long coast of Jura sped by. Then the massive hump of Scarba came into view.

After Scarba came the first of the Isles of the Sea, Eileach an Naoimh - the "Ikea" lighthouse at its south end brightly reflecting the sun.

Then came the other Isles of the Sea: A' Chuli, Garbh Eileach, and Dun Chonnuill.

Next up were the slate isle of Easdale and Ellanbeich.

We were then over an island I've not been to yet, Insh Island. There were stories a while back about a naked hermit living there, but I do not know if there is any truth to that.

Off to the left I could see the vast sea loch of Spelvie, and Portfield House, from where we'd unsuccessfully tried to hike to Old Croggan Village six weeks before.

I was sitting behind the pilot, and as we began the approach to Oban he asked if I wanted him to take some photos out the front of the plane. I handed him the camera and he took this shot of Oban.

As we descended over Kerrera the Mull ferry was motoring past the tip of the island. The marina at Ardintrive, once a military seaplane base could be seen, as was the small peninsula of Cladh a Bhernaig with the bracken-grown ruins of its Celtic Christan Cashel.

As the plane continued its descent we flew over Dunolie Castle and its successor Dunolie House.

Then came the Oban Cemetery; a place I'd spent a lot of time on two occasions trying to find the grave of MEM Donaldson. Her grave is marked with an arrow on the photo, and you can read about it here.

Just before touchdown we passed Connel Bridge and the dramatic Falls of Lora.

It had been an amazing flight. Too bad flying can't always be so enjoyable. I would recommend Hebridean Air Services to anyone wanting the fly to, and from, the isles. After a short taxi ride I was ensconced in my hotel in Oban. I had one full day in town to get ready for an Irish adventure. A cruise on Hjalmar Bjorge around the west side of Ireland ending up in Cork. That was the good news. The bad news was the weather forecast. It was not looking good at all.