WORDS: Jenni Flett
PICTURES: Henry Lecky
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Arriving on the island, I had a heavy weight on my shoulders. My little foray to Scotland’s Inner Hebrides to the Isle of Mull was to be a time of celebration, but instead, it was to be marred by personal tragedy. Still, I had purposefully chosen this as my destination to see some incredibly special people who were integral to this healing process.
My good friends had taken positions at a hotel on the Isle of Mull, and it had always been on my agenda to visit them, but recent events had made it even more pertinent. The island itself is having a moment of revival, as tourists who typically jet off to the sunny shores of… well, just about anywhere that isn’t the UK, have now turned their attention to more immediate destinations.
Welcoming us to the Glenforsa Hotel was our friend, with a beer in hand. I was here with my partner, and we had already agreed to take their dog on her usual daily jaunt. As we cross a seemingly innocuous field, I soon discover that this wooden lodge hotel is also home to a grass airfield with pilots visiting from all over to land in this unique spot. Our canine tour guide then led us past nesting Oyster Catchers on the beach, a hidden-from-sight waterfall, and along the riverside that circles the estate.
One of the perks of holidaying on an island is that beautiful, fresh seafood is never far from your plate. Even at breakfast the following day, there is an offering of smoked kippers. I also had one eye on the dinner menu and had already decided that Inverlussa mussels would be on the evening agenda. My entire day ahead was, in fact, geared around exploring Mull’s local fare.
Single-track roads encompass the Isle of Mull, and traffic jams mainly consist of inconveniently positioned sheep as they lazily meander by the roadside. The road to Mull’s main town of Tobermory would also take me past hairy Highland Coos (Cows) and astonishing coastline. Downhill into the town’s marina, I saw the colourful wee buildings that Tobermory is famous for.
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What followed was a standard touristy day with a visit to the local distillery for a taste of Tobermory and Ledaig whiskies and shopping on the main street. I snagged a few souvenirs of soap, chocolate, and the obligatory postcard before hastily making my way back to the car to try and catch the “cheese café”, aka the Glass Barn at Isle of Mull Cheese. Excitedly, I turned the corner to see a large sign: “closed for a private event”.
My partner has a running joke that every time I get excited about visiting somewhere, it’s inevitably closed. I guess he’s right! With a significant portion of the day eaten into, we decided to carry on round to Calgary Bay and just as I reached peak hangry status, we finally came across the Calgary Art Gallery and Shop. A gorgeous sculpture woodland walk surrounds this hub for local artists, and inside is a quaint but busy café. We were fair taken by the place and stayed for two coffees, open sandwiches with Tobermory smoked trout, and generous helpings of cake.
Tucked around the corner is one of the must-see things to do on Mull – the white sands of Calgary Bay. As one of the only white sand beaches on the island, it’s a popular spot no matter the weather, as is an ice cream from Robin’s Boat – a quirky shop built from an old boat. I immediately ran out onto the sand and let the waves lap over my toes. Braver souls donning wetsuits happily splashed around in the water.
Back in the car, the drive back to the hotel is interrupted by a problem with the car wing mirror. As we stop to fix it, there was the crashing sound of a waterfall. Further investigation found that we had stumbled upon the stunning Eas Fors Waterfall, and suddenly, any hint of frustration with the rental car subsided.
The next day, rain tapped gently on the window; rapidly, it picked up in speed and volume as a storm rolled in, and I knew my morning plans would be much different than I had planned. The Turus Mara boat ride to Staffa and onwards to see the glorious puffins as they nested was cancelled. For once, I hadn’t planned a backup, so instead, I followed my nose and a map to find the real magic of Mull.
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Towards Craignure, I spotted a circular walk around Fishnish Forest. The trail intermittently opens out to views across the Sound of Mull and is full of interesting insect life, appealling also to any fellow birders. From here, I go to investigate the castle I saw on my landing at Craignure. I find out that this is Duart Castle, ancient home to the Maclean clan. The 700-year-old castle overlooks the Sound of Mull, and entry to the castle allows visitors to climb the roof and take in the island from above.
Refuelled by a comforting macaroni cheese from the Duart Castle tearoom, I set out to find what was in the southern part of the Isle of Mull. I hadn’t heard much about it, which made it a bit of a mystery. I turned left to start my southern isle adventure and was immediately surprised to find a farmer’s field of peacocks and peahens, sitting in trees and parading by the side of the road. Further along, I took the road to Lochbuie, which was laden with glorious pink blooms on either side of the single-track road, and I stopped now and then to let families of sheep and geese safely cross over.
I arrived at Lochbuie, which is also the home to an ancient stone circle and switched to my hiking boots to traverse the rocky coastline to Laggan Sands. Here, I walked amongst hardy rams with twisted horns until I reached Moy Castle. This small castle isn’t so much a visitor attraction, but it does add to the beauty of this rugged coastal setting. Behind the castle are soft, babbling brooks which led me up a slight incline to reach Laggan Sands eventually.
In the drizzle, this empty beach shone silver. Up in the surrounding hills, mountain goats grazed on trees; down on the beach itself were an array of seabirds. Dominating the scene was Ben Buie: a humble 717m high mountain. As I stood with my partner, with no other people in sight, I thought this was the experience I had craved. It wasn’t the trip I had planned, but it is the part of Mull that will stay with me forever.
The wind turned my hair into a veritable bird’s nest while raindrops pattered onto my face, and I laughed at the unpredictable nature of Scottish weather. I turned to head back at a meandering pace and joined my friends for a final farewell dram of whisky, as we talked into the wee hours. The island had soothed me in unexpected ways, and that’s why Mull is magical – at least to me.
