One of those glorious days when the West of Scotland lives up to the postcards. Bright sunshine and only white clouds, a fresh breeze, and the Firth of Clyde looking at its glorious best. we went down to Largs for the 10.15 ferry to Cumbrae. A latte to go and a freshly made doughnut was nae problem cos we were going to spend much of the day walking. A ten minute sail gets you to Cumbrae, and then we circled the island in the car. Goatfell had a dusting of snow and the Arran hills against a blue sky and blue sea made you want to up roots and live within sight of Arran, Bute, Cumbrae, and Little Cumbrae. Spent a wee while in the Cathedral of the Isles, stilled by the stillness and quietened by the quiet. Smallest extant cathedral in Britain, but what a beautiful old place, long steeped in spiritual longing.
Walked across the island, back into Millport and back out towards the war memorial that looks up the Clyde. I’ve always found the rhythmic sound of lapping water makes me yearn – not sure what for. And the sound of water on the shore, the blueness and clearness of the water itself, the cold breeze even my thick fleece didn’t keep entirely out, the sound of a curlew’s cry that whisked always whisks me back to my days as a boy on the farm, and the sight of two Oyster Catchers turning their heads against the breeze and burying that two inch orange bill down their wing – hard not to love God’s world on a day like this.
Leave a Reply