Meeting Colonsay

William was as good as his word, waiting outside the gallery as the ferry pulled in. It took ten minutes to cover the distance from there to the farm where a familiar cooking smell hung in the air. There are sheep everywhere, as there were over on the East side; as on the East side, lamb is the meat of choice. See more sheep, eat more lamb. It's as it should be.

We spent the evening jumping from one mutual acquaintance to another in our news stories. William, of course, had a Chatsworth story to go with the catalogue I showed him. Using a scattergun approach, he slowly brought me up to speed on the setup here on the island. He and Katie have moved here permanently from softer southern climes. She seems to be in charge of the island at this moment, as her brother is in Russia for a few weeks. This keeps her away from the farm for most of the day.

They are fond of Marmite. William would like to make something of it.

The following morning I was given the conducted tour. It's easy to drive a circuit around the island; each time I do it, another detail springs out and beckons me. After my host had gone off to continue his day's work, I set off once more on the circuit, but stopping this time with the camera. First stop was the beautiful beach, curving around from rocks to rocks, a crescent in between. It's a good place to limber up with standard, camera-club shots - rocks in the foreground, receding beach, water playing over seaweed, fractal erosion - all good for getting the eye going.

I took a wrong turn off th beach and ended up on Walter's property. His sign was fierce but he was not, insisting that I look at his fifty-year-old Massey Ferguson, and guess its value. He duly astonished me with the price, and led me on to more ancient machinery, to which he gave arcane names. He was pulled up short when we were looking at a particularly obscure lump of metal.

"And what's the potato picker worth?" I asked. He looked at me, startled. "I had you down as a Londoner." From then on, we were laughing and he was happy to pose.

A beach and a golf course later, it was time for lunch in the hotel. Everyone there knows William, and he knows all of them, something that delivers a warmth the woodburner can't give.

After lunch, on a whim, I climbed a big hill with a triangulation point. Top o' the world. I didn't want to come down, but echoes from years worth of warnings kept sounding in my head; eventually, I trudged back through the heather and the bracken but not before making a couple of 360 degree passes in order to attempt a full panorama of the island later.

Tomorrow (which is really today) I'm going back to a little wind-blown tree which appears to be a raven refuge. If it works, it'll be here.

Once I'm back in sync, there will be more images.