Our last day in Glasgow was one of organisation. We had a few things we needed to sort out via the internet, and took advantage of our current access as one must while backpacking. So far on our travels our internet access had ranged from intermittent to scarce, which can be a problem when the ‘net is the main way of researching and booking accommodation, travel and organised activities.
We had also been told that grocery shopping on our island destination tends to be expensive and hard to access, so we were advised to buy a bunch of food on the mainland to reduce costs. Our airbnb in Glasgow was next to a Lidl or some other cheap shop, so we crammed in as much food as we could, filling even the smallest crevice in our already well packed bags.
Suffice to say, these were incredibly heavy as we humped them into the taxi, then onto the bus to Oban. As we drove, the road quickly turned into a windy, two lane country road. We passed thick forests and the deep yet narrow waters of Loch Lomond, only occasionally interspersed with any sign of civilisation. We soon began to get an impression of the remote nature of our destination, but as yet this was only an inkling.
Over two hours later we arrived at Oban, a seaside town and ferry port to the inner Hebrides. Here is a quick geography lesson. Scotland is the top part of the United Kingdom (starting off with the basics). To the west of mainland Scotland lies an archipelago usually split into two main groups. The Outer Hebrides are comprised of a chain of over 100 islands about 70 kilomertres from the mainland, 15 of which are inhabited. The Inner Hebrides lie closer to the mainland, and include 36 inhabited islands, one of which is the Isle of Mull. Mull is just across the water from Oban, which serves as a major port for Caledonian Macbrayne, the ferry company that grants access to the Hebrides as a whole.
In true style, as we arrived at said ferry port, we were just in time to see our intended ferry slip its moorings and head out towards its destination. This may have had something to do with the bus getting stuck behind a pack of cyclists on the windy country roads, which had us needing to run to the ferry as soon as we arrived. Unfortunately, the running was closer to a panicked waddle due to the huge weight we were each carrying, coupled with the tenderness of Kathy’s still healing collarbone.
While we waited for the next ferry Kathy found a seafood stall, since Oban claimed to be the shellfish capital of Scotland. Since I am allergic to that whole group of animals, I elected to get a beer at the pub next door while I watched the occasional patch of blue sky between the cloud cover. Soon enough another ferry came along, and we hopped aboard for the 50min trip to Craignure, the ferry port for Mull.
Once there we were met by Andrew, the second in command of the ‘Ghillies’ and my immediate boss. The term ghillie refers to a man who works as an attendant on a fishing or deer stalking expedition, used mostly in the highland areas of Scotland. It can also encompass grounds-keeping duties, and was to be my job title for the next 6 months.
Andrew was a tall, friendly man, with a trimmed red beard and a thick Highland accent. Most people would just call it a Scottish accent, but having heard Andrew describe a lowland Scots accent as ‘practically from London’, I’ll be sure to make the distinction. Andrew packed us into his Landrover and as the daylight began to fade we drove the half hour or so to Knock House.
In the car Andrew asked about my experience with this kind of work. When I said I had none, he seemed somewhat surprised, which left me somewhat worried. Apparently Michael, who had been my only contact up until this point, only spent one or two days a year on the estate, and was fairly new to his role. Refusing to be troubled by this, I put on my best Aussie drawl and said ‘Ah, she’ll be right.’
We quickly stopped by the Knock House itself. The house is a grand old country manor, dating from the 18th century, though updated and expanded by numerous renovations. It sports 12 bedrooms, living room, sitting room, drawing room, billiards room and a floor-sprung ‘ceilidh’ (pronounced caylee) room for parties. It also has a dining room fit for 20 people, with an extensive kitchen equipped to feed that many. This is the house that Kathy would be keeping, though her duties would also extend to the 6 self-contained cottages spread out nearby.
After Andrew pointed out the location of these cottages, we drove on, heading toward our home for the next six months. Fifteen minutes later, on a windy, bumpy, single lane road, we arrived at Dhiseig (pronounced ‘gee-shig’). Nestled within a small stand of trees, at the foot of Benmore, from which the whole estate got its name, was the last of the self-contained guest cottages, with a smaller extension reserved for us. From the front door it looked out onto Loch Na Keal, with Eorsa, Ulva and more islands stretching away toward the horizon.
Andrew showed us around then left us to it. Our little cottage was a fairly cosy two level affair. Kitchen and living room were downstairs, with a bathroom & toilet that you had to walk through to climb the stairs up to the bedroom. The bedroom adjoined to a small storage/wardrobe room, and this whole top level was triangular to conform to the sloping roof. The ceiling was also two inches lower that what I needed to stand up straight, which let to far too much stooping and head banging.
We had a look around, unpacked and got a fire going. Just as we were beginning to relax, a horrible shrieking noise began in the base of the chimney. The fire had just started to burn enough for the heat to reach something that had obviously been living there. I opened the doors and a poor little bat dropped down and started rolling about on the edge of the fire itself. I quickly scooped it up and took it away from the fierce lick of the flames.
Unfortunately, we had no idea what to do next. We had an injured bat, we were in the middle of unfamiliar nowhere, without phone connection, internet, or any connection to other people without a 15 minute drive. We wrapped the poor thing up. We tried to give it food, maybe a little bit of fruit. We held it each time it gave off a series of painful sounding shrieks. We even tried to take it outside to see if it would fly away.
Alas, it was all for naught. As you can probably see in the photo, the poor things wings had been damaged, and after three or four mildly traumatic hours, it died. We mournfully accepted the frailty of life, and crossed our fingers that there had been nothing else living in the chimney. This was our welcome to Mull, and would not be our only run in with the local wildlife.
The next day we crossed back over to Oban (we had an old white panel van from the estate to get us around – more on that later). We needed to investigate the possibility of getting a USB internet dongle and needed to get a sim card that would actually have service in the area. Naturally, both the phone and internet shops were closed. Instead we got some more supplies, had fish and chips for lunch, and looked around in a big bookshop. We also went to Argos, a strange shopping chain in the UK which has done away with the idea of displaying their wares on a shelf and instead has you looking through a laminated catalogue, before asking an attendant to go retrieve whatever it is you want from a back room.
On the way back to the island we bumped into Andrew, with his two children, Angus and Holly. Sunday was his day off, so he usually took the kids to Oban for the day. He told us to have a good rest tonight, because the next day would be our first days work at Benmore Estate.
I’ll leave you with some shots of our second sunset at Dhiseig.
Sail away from the safe harbour 
LIKE THE SECOND SUNSET DAVIE
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