The next morning dawned brightly enough, from my bed I could watch the sheep lambs and rabbits that grazed on the steep crags rising behind our B&B. At this point we were undecided whether to make the journey home or stop once more on our way. It felt good to have the day open to all events, free of expectation and without an end. The beautiful bays of Easdale fell to our rear view mirror and we pulled up the narrow road away and onward with our journey.
We stopped in Oban and managed to catch sight of Morven on her mooring way across the water, however that was through a pair of binoculars and the wind was biting, we didn't linger. Morven was originally named Aramanth and was built in the same era as Shemaron also at Weatherheads boat yard. She spent a lot of time fishing off the east coast we think from Fisher Row.
We were by now settling into our journey and the scenery once again was changing as we covered the miles. Alongside loch Linnhe the mountains of the Ardnamurchan rose, low enough still to be green and forested but higher and more oppressive than any we had passed so far. The sky was changing too growing thicker and slightly bruised in patches. We became gradually aware that secretly and seductively the whole mood of the area had changed, we had driven into the shadows of Glencoe. By right of age and height the mountains influence all that skirts their shores and by the same rights all that flows around their watery drops as they fall away below the sea. Connecting in one push of magnificent rocky power, the sea, the land and the sky. This is how we felt as we approached the Isles of Glencoe and where as magic happens we flashed by a boat ranging gently on her mooring, bright and green in the bruising day.
We stopped under the leaking clouds for further investigation, taking a shortcut through the vegetation to reach the other side of the small peninsula. Sitting quietly on her mooring was the Seaflower a fellow ring-net boat similar in age and condition to Shemaron. Definitely worth a photo or two. It would be amazing to bring Shemaron to such a powerful place. Islands sat a short way out in the loch, Eilean Munda and Eilean a' Chomhraidh meeting and burial places for the clans MacDonald, Cameron, Stewart and other families in the locality.
I was reminded of Eilean Mor Finlaggan Islay.
By the time we drove into Glencoe it was raining adding to the dour and slightly malevolent atmosphere. Of course I know of the terrible massacre the occurred here which is bound to add to the negative power of the place, but here is an older power this place commands respect and one passes at ones own peril.