A Song Thrush is chirping an unfamiliar to me song out my window. Time to get up, to get moving.
You know what is really tempting? This bathtub, in the enormous room that serves as the bathroom. More like bath sanctuary...
But I resist the temptation. A warm shower will be just fine. (Did I tell you that it's in the low 50sF here at night? And low 60sF in the daytime? That's 12-ishC and 17-ishC respectively. And that is fine weather for the northern coast of Scotland in June! I'm deeply satisfied.)
The sheep are grazing in the sloping meadow. (Yes, I did pick up one of your tics last night, you wooley rascals! Thank goodness I wasn't too tired to notice it.) It's very quiet. And everywhere, there are flowers, picked locally, in small bunches, in every possible configuration.
Time for breakfast. In a room with flowers. (This was taken after breakfast was cleared. I did not want to wave a camera around when people were still eating. We have our breakfasts and dinners here.)
The SF couple is there, as is the couple from Australia. The SF guys work in fields familiar to me -- design work, attorney. The Australian pair -- dairy farmers. We linger for a while after we finish our homemade granola, our rather modern poached eggs on avocado toast.
I have so many questions! (As a dairy farmer, the Australian guy comes to Madison regularly for our annual Dairy Expo. We talk about that as well!) Eventually I ask -- you've seen Clarkson's Farm? It's a TV series (on Amazon) and Ed and I have loved every episode. Funny, but also very informative. About running a farm in England. I'm curious what a real dairy guy would think of it.
Turns out he shares our views. Clarkson has done more good for farming in the UK and beyond than anyone out there. He has really shown the nuts and bolts of the operation and in an entertaining way. Agreed.
We break up for the day. The SF guys are going out on a boating expedition. (It wont surprise you that I would turn down their kind invite to join them. Me and boats is a big no!) The Australian farmers are moving on, discovering more of the coast. I stay in the kitchen to talk to Tracy, a local staff person, about possible walks. Well, eventually we talk about walks. I hesitate at first. "Oh! I see you got ketchup spilled all over the kitchen sink!" But she laughs. "No, it's the way we clean it!" You learn something new every day.
Tracy is the rare person at Lundies House who actually was born and raised in Tongue. Her kids have grown and left, but she and her (photographer!) husband have stayed behind. Predictably, she knows every stone in all the roads and paths that wind through here.
I had reserved the use of one of their electric bikes for the day and I take it out now to get to my beachy walks.
It is a magnificent way to explore the area! Even the single-track road doesn't intimidate me! And I can pause and take in ... everything!
(There are many hills and the power assist is a must for me. No way could I do this on a regular bike.)
On the other side of the Kyle of Tongue (you cross a bridge), I take the coastal road that keeps me close to views of the water.
Most people think of heather when they hum where in purple hew, the Highland hills we view...
But for me, Scotland is also Foxglove territory!
I leave my bike (me: do I need a key? Tracey laughs. That's a no.) and walk down the steep path to the beach.
(Irises grow where there is water...)
Back on the bike now, I pedal on. Up one hill, down the next. To the little village "harbor")...
(a boat that did not survive the storms...)
(village residents)
(a challenge for you: can you say this village name out loud?)
And over the bend, so that I can take in a full view of the North Sea in its full glory.
And here's a beautiful surprise: at the side of the road, as I pause to take yet another photo, I spot them: the Fragrant Orchids! The same ones I saw in Islay! And yes, they really are fragrant. Here, they co-mingle with the Cotton Grasses.
This is when it began to sprinkle a little. It's enough to get me to turn back. I had my camping rain jacket (from the years Ed and I used to hike with tents and gear), so I wasn't really bothered by the few drops, but I'm looking for an excuse to pause. I wanted to see what they had packed me for lunch.
(on the return)
I take the food and thermos of tea out in the inn's courtyard, because the benches with sheepskins look so... comfortable!
Another staff member, Becks, finds me finishing up my sandwich (or a portion of it... It's huge!). Becks is seasonally here. Originally from around Bath, she and her partner and now, too, their baby, love to travel around and the list of places where she has held seasonal jobs is... impressive. She wants to show me a secret spot on the property where I may want to dangle my feet in the water as I munch a lunch. This one:
A brook, a small waterfall, a stone bench. It's just lovely! Magical, really. I am impressed at every turn at the simple detail in this property. So I ask Becks -- who owns this place, anyway?
A Danish family.
Wealthy, I bet?
Oh yes. He's a billionaire. Turns out he, Mr. Povlesen, is the principal shareholder of Asos -- a clothing company I'd never heard of, but that's because I don't follow these things. They sell online, and there are clothing giants that are marketed under its auspices. I later read that Mr. Povlsen is also the largest private landowner in all of Scotland. If you read Ocean back in the days when I traveled to Islay on a regular basis, you may remember that land ownership here is very strange: most of the country is owned by a very small number of people. The rest? They live on and work the land, but they don't own it. According to the Scotsman (a leading newspaper here), Povlsen and his wife, who regularly visit their Scottish estates, have pledged to "restore our parts of the Highlands to their former magnificent natural state and repair the harm that man has inflicted on them"
Before you get too wrapped up in a disdain for that amount of wealth in one family, read on, as I did when I returned to my room. Povlesen and his wife had 4 children. However, three of them, Alfred (5), Alma (15) and Agnes (12), were killed in the terrorist attack on a Sri Lanka hotel in 2019. (The fourth, Astrid, 10, survived.) The attack targeted tourists and Christians and was carried out on Easter Sunday.
I have rarely felt more sorry for anyone.
Povleson and his family are coming to Lundies House next week, which would explain why I could not book my little room for more than the three nights I am here, even though I booked last July! (I thought it was January, but I just checked -- it was actually last summer!). I guess he's taking over the whole house for a vacation.
I ask Becks if the village people resent the coming of outside wealth. Sure, Lundies House is an employer of locals, but it actually has to rely on staff from elsewhere to fill the needs. (Yes, of course, there's at least one Pole working here -- Agnieszka)! Local people in remote villages dont generally like strangers taking up shop. So the reaction is mixed. And it's not as if the place is open to locals. The dining room feeds only those who stay here. There's no pub, there's no traffic from the village at all.
Nonetheless, the place is so beautiful in its simple adherence to those Danish principles of design minimalism and the use of locally sourced fibers, stone, timber, ceramics, and art that you have to acknowledge how well it fits into the larger landscape here. Even without the tragedy that befell its owner (and Lundies House opened in the very year that happened), I forgive the wealth that's behind this project, because everything in my room, for example, is so understated (a bed, simple wooden and recycled metal nightstands, seat and one small wooden desk. That's it. No TV even. Nothing fancy about it except the big bathtub in the room next door), that it invites you to relax, no matter what your position in life. (A stay here is not cheap, of course, but the price includes all meals and is far more modest than, say, a simple, no meals included room in a Disneyland hotel in Florida.)
I take a cup of coffee and the leftover cake from lunch and I sit in the living room and write out some notes.
(In this room)
By the time I'm "done with lunch," they bring out the afternoon treats: a freshly baked apple cake. And tea for me.
I think I should take an even longer walk tomorrow!
Toward evening, we all gather in the living room again. Australians left, new people arrive. Drinks, snacks, sharing of stories.
And onto dinner. New Belgian couple must feel left out, because there are now three couples from California. And me. Marcello, who serves dinner, tells me that this is unusual. That mainly they see Europeans. Though others who know Great Britain well, pipe in -- but rarely the English, right? The English apparently do not like to vacation by car and may I remind you -- you need a car to get here.
What dish should I highlight for you... They were all so good... How about the appetizer? A zucchini flower stuffed with seafood? Delicious, and also very beautiful.
Afterwards, we linger with some of the newcomers (from California!), but they soon give out for the night. It's been a long trip for them.
And now five of us remain. We discuss whiskeys, pour Islay drams, and make our way to the courtyard. With the fire pit. Here we are, four Californians (one couple from the north, the other from the south) and a Wisconsinite:
It's the last night for the SF guys. Out tomorrow, with a return to Inverness, then home. I have to say, they glued the pieces of my trip for me so perfectly. They were the smile that carried me through that first tired evening. With stories tonight that I'll chuckle over long after they're gone. I owe them big time for the spark of joy that came with each of the evenings we hung out together.
Here's to the two of you!
A beautiful day on the northern coast of Scotland. Really, unforgettable.
with love...
