Misty Mountain Hop pt 2

Monday kicked off the house hunting in earnest with appointments in Salen in the morning and Tobermory in the afternoon. Let’s just say that between them they threw up some very interesting characters and properties but sadly nothing that really fitted the bill.

There was little time for wildlife watching, although I did see another White Tailed Eagle in the distance whilst checking out Salen Bay for Otters. In previous years I have seen a mother and two cubs in this Bay, but having returned several times during the week, it seems they may have left this particular area or have become more secretive.

 Salen Bay – Not so Ottery

 Tuesday involved visits to houses in the Lochdon, Aros and Dervaig areas and meeting some very pleasant people. All had their own potential (the houses I mean) - but I wasn’t sure that I had the bravery or necessary cash to take them on.

Having some free time left in the afternoon I headed up the road from Dervaig to another place I know well - the tiny fishing harbour of Croig.

Croig is so Mull, it hurts. From Croig you can walk west along the northern coast and find superb little sandy coves and beaches, or, as I did, walk out north east to the point (near the monument) and look across to the Ardnamurchan peninsular on the mainland, whilst watching carefully for otters, in and around the many, seaweed covered, rocky inlets.

 

 

One of the beaches north west of Croig

 

I was in luck and spotted an otter fishing well out to sea, but was never in with a chance to get really close. Nevertheless, the rocks on the point made a great place to sit and ponder the riddles of the universe, the meaning of life and what I fancied for dinner at the pub.
 

This guy clearly fancies the seafood special

Wednesday morning I was back in Tobermory. I had never explored the back roads and lanes of “Tobe” in such detail before and the place was beginning to make me a little depressed. I have to say that, behind its picture perfect frontage, the town reminded me of an old lady who had seen better days, was letting herself go to seed – and what’s more didn’t care.

Tobermoray - lovely icing but has someone left the cake out in the rain?

Wednesday afternoon concluded the scheduled viewings with two more properties back in Dervaig. I did stop off briefly during my travels on Wednesday however, to photograph a tourist eagle – the kind you find sitting on telegraph poles all over Mull and who have little regard for the locals or visitors alike. Unless, of course, you should stray a bit too close and so cause them to flap away lazily into the air.

 

Buzzard (Buteo Buteo) (the Tourists Eagle)
"I am a linesman for the county"

Thursday – another quick trip into Tobermoray, back for a second look at a place in Dervaig - then it’s my time again and so over to Calgary Bay, for a walk along the coastal path. Calgary is another good place to spot Golden Eagles soaring high above the cliffs, often accompanied by harrowing Buzzards or noisy Ravens. Once again I was lucky enough to spot an eagle, but a long way off – certainly no photos – and whilst I think it was of the golden variety it could have possibly been a white tailed.

 

Calgary Bay

Calgary is the only place on Mull where you can find a strip of machair between the land and the beach, but at this time of year it really just looks like ordinary grass. The weather (which typically of the west coast, had been variable all week) stayed fine and dry allowing me time to have a pleasant walk round the north edge of the bay, before returning to the cottage and then down the high street to the bar for fish n chips and a pint.

For my last full day I toured round the northern edge of Loch Na Keal then round Loch Tuath, across the moors, back round the coast to Calgary and finally Dervaig. On the way, I made many stops and detours to look for big flappy things or wet furry things, but without luck.

At one stage along the way I did, however, need to negotiate a right (rite?) of passage, with a rather belligerent highland beast who had claimed the single track road as his own  Bealach na Bà.

This 4X4's got a heck of a set of Bull Bars!

 

Having safely agreed terms with shaggy, I then spent some time trying to photograph a Stonechat – they let you get so close, then hop along to the next post, it drives you mad – the final result was not great but after all the effort I’m going to include it anyway.

 

Stonechat - sitting still for 5 seconds

 Friday night at the “Bear Pit” (the local bar) is when the locals come out to play and boy to they know how to enjoy themselves. Their hospitality and generosity belies any stereotyping of Scottish frugalness and it was great to meet with familiar faces again (dare I say friends).

 

I can only hope that it means you are accepted when a Five foot two Hebridean clasps his arms around you and declares “Tony, it’s good to see you again, ya big fat whoo-er”.
 

Craignure Ferry Terminal 7.30 am

 

Sadly, with a Ferry to catch the following morning, I had to curtail the Friday night hospitality and so my latest Mull adventure was over.

Will I go back to live there? It’s a distinct possibility, more than a possibility - but first I have to find the right place and based on this week I'm not sure that will be so easy. But they do say nothing worth having is easy.

No time to brood on what could be however. Sunday morning it was back to reality and I was on duty with the rest of the FoHESC gang at our Open Day, down at the local reserve (see link to FoHESC blog for more details).

Misty Mountain Hop

As part of my lifestyle change plans I have been considering for some time a possible move to Scotland and in particular the West Coast and it’s adjacent Islands. Mull has always been a particular favourite of mine with its wonderfully diverse, yet compact landscape, friendly inhabitants and last, but not least, fantastic wildlife.

So it was that a week last Saturday I and the Twasser (VW’s incredibly uneconomic 4X4 cross between a Golf and a Tiger Tank) boarded the ferry at Oban and set sail for Craignure. The plan being to spend most of the week house viewing around the Island, with hopefully a little time left over for some wildlife.

 Speed bonnie boat

I certainly will not be boring you with the details of the house viewing, but let’s just say I may be about to rival  Kirsty and Phil with my new series entitled “Right Location - Wrong House, Right Price - Wrong Location, Right House - Wrong Location, Right House - Wrong Price, etc, etc, etc”.

Following my normal routine, once landed, I nipped up to Tobermory to get a few essentials – milk, wine, bread, wine, eggs, wine, cheese, wine, etc. before heading across to my base at Dervaig. This time however as soon as the goodies were unloaded into the rented cottage, I was round at the neighbours checking out their house, which had just come on the market.

Viewing 1 completed, I returned to the cottage and went out onto the decking behind the kitchen door for a well earned coffee break. Scanning the hill tops – as you do – I spotted one large and two smaller dots. Quickly grabbing the bino’s my hopes were confirmed, as I watched a Golden Eagle being pestered by a pair of Buzzards. Damned demanding this birding on Mull, sometimes you have to go all the way to the back garden.

After a pleasant evening renewing old acquaintances in the bar of the local hotel, Sunday morning involved house viewing 2, down at Lochdon. The owners, who were charming, revealed a little of their life on Mull over a cup of coffee and even suggested another house I might like to look at, near to where I was staying.

Loch Na Keal

The Island to the Right is Inch Kenneth
The site of a house which proved to be the last home of Unity Mitford

 

As I was in the southern half of the Island, after leaving Lochdon, I carried on down to Loch Scridain and then round the south of Ben More before returning home via the southern shores of Loch Na Keal. Although I stopped many times, to scour the hills and mountains where I had seen eagles before – this time I was out of luck. Similar searches of the loch shores for otters also came up blank, although, one of Mulls ubiquitous hoodies decided to give me the evil eye while I took his picture.

 

Hooded Crow (Corvus cornix)

Back at Dervaig, I left the Twasser at the cottage and walked a few hundred yards up the hill, to look for the house I had been told was for sale (very nice, very expensive). Whilst loitering around the property, (trying not to look like a burglar casing the joint), I heard a commotion above me and there, about thirty meters above my head was a White Tailed Eagle, being mobbed by yet another Buzzard.

Of course, the man who goes nowhere without his camera, was at the time, without his.......!

Here’s one that I photographed earlier. White-tailed Eagle (Haliaeetus albicilla)

I nearly typed “here’s one I shot earlier” as I, like many other photographers, often do, when referring to taking a photograph. In this particular instance, this has rather sinister connotations, as the White Tailed Eagle was persecuted to extinction in Scotland during the late 19^th and early 20^th centuries. The last British white-tailed eagle is recorded as being shot in 1918.

After a faltering start, involving reintroduction programs on Rum and Skye in the 1970s, the White Tails finally got going in earnest on Mull, and as of last year there were 15 breeding pairs on the Island. The controversy regarding their reintroduction has not gone away, however. Talking with the locals, there seems to be a renewed unrest amongst the farming community, who are again complaining about the increasing number of lambs taken by the WTEs.

In economic terms it is easy to argue that the tourist revenue that the eagles bring to Mull (estimated at £5 million) far, far exceeds the value of the lambs taken – and they are taken (during my short visits to the Island, even I have witnessed at least one lamb being carried to a nest). But, I can also understand the farmers zealous protection, care and concern for their animal’s welfare, that generations of struggling against nature and the elements has instilled in them. Despite the compensation payments and various pro WTE arguments, it must very much run against the grain for Mull’s farmers to stand-by helpless, as newly born members of their flocks head skywards in a merciless pair of talons.
 

Emotive words I know, but as the WTE population grows, this thing is going to need constant and careful handling by the Scottish RSPB, Forestry Commission and the other responsible bodies in order to avoid the situation where tempers fly and guns go off.

To be continued.