Muckdate 3: Here at Last
Snowy Port Mor on the day we arrived, with the school playground on the right and cafe to the left.
It's a wild, wet and windy day so I'm back in the sofa with my sleeping baby and my knitting. My 4-year-old is pretending to be Moana sailing across the sea in her bunkbeds (with help from Maui - I mean Dad), so I've got a bit of time to finish the story of our arrival on Muck before I have to go and get lunch ready.
After we had to turn back because of the weather last Saturday, we decided to make the most of our extra day on the mainland with a morning of beach-combing (we found the heart of Te Fiti, Moana fans), a trip to Mallaig leisure centre (we were the only people there and had an hour of fun in the floats followed by a very welcome steam in the sauna), and wound up with dinner and drinks at the lovely Chlachain Inn. Then it was back to the bunkhouse for what we hoped would be our final night on the mainland - and this time the weather omens were distinctly promising, with hardly any wind and what little there was coming from the north, ideal for getting in to Muck's south-facing harbour.
When we opened the bunkhouse curtains we were amazed to see that it had snowed in the night - a fairly rare occurrence on the west coast seaboard. So it was time to scrape the car and check the ice conditions on the road before heading carefully into Mallaig and reversing into the ferry queue ready for our second attempt to make it to the island. The hills around Mallaig looked spectacular with their sprinkling of snow and ice and as we steamed out of the harbour we saw the Skye Cuillin regal under heavy mantles of snow. Before we left I'd called our landlady on Muck to let her know that we almost certainly would be arriving around lunch time, and she said that they'd woken to ice and frozen puddles on the island, something which almost never happens because Muck is so low-lying and has a maritime climate.
Scraping the car at Arisaig in the early morning snowlight.
This time it was all plain sailing: a quick stop at Eigg first to deliver supplies, visitors, and those returning home to the island, before a short, calm hop to Muck. As we approached the harbour we could see snow had now fallen on the island too - what an exciting way to be welcomed to our new home.
The pier was busy with people coming to meet the boat, though we didn't linger as our 4-year-old was itching to go and have a play in the snow. We also wanted to make a quick stop at the nursery to say hello to our landlady (who also works as the school's clerical assistant) and to introduce our daughter to the other children. We were warmly welcomed by the teachers (1 each for the nursery and composite primary class) and pupils (all six of them, ranging from four to eleven years), and as we'd arrived during their lunch break everyone had a play together in the snow.
Muck Schoolhouse in the snow.
After a little while our daughter was showing signs of being hungry and a bit overwhelmed by all the excitement, so we said goodbye and made our way back to the car, ready to drive across the island to our house. There's only one road and it runs south to north, connecting the main village of Port Mòr (home to the school, café, pier, bunkhouse, craft shop and community hall) with the hamlet of Gallanach, where the farm, hunting lodge and a couple of cottages nestle round a sandy bay.
We hadn't got very far along the road when we encountered an obstacle. Another vehicle had slid on the ice (no gritters on the islands) and was partially blocking the road, meaning that no one could get by until the farm tractor had come to tow it up the hill. So my husband carefully turned the car round and we went gingerly back to wait it out in Port until the road was clear.
By now the snow had started to fall heavily and both children were complaining of boredom and hunger so we headed for the community hall, a large modern building above the school which we had visited briefly on our one previous trip to the island. The place is available for anyone to use and consists of a kitchen and seating area, a big wooden floored hall for ceilidhs, games and big events, and a smaller upstairs room with a small display about the island's history alongside not one but two lending libraries (one supplied by the Highland Council, the other donated by a former resident). I was able to sit and feed the baby whilst my husband and daughter (after a bit of refuelling) played sliding and racing games on the hall's polished floor. Outside a blizzard blew and I was so grateful for this shelter before we'd even made it to our house).
Following the tractor back to Gallanach.
After an inch or two of snow had fallen the clouds parted and the sun came out. The whole island shone in the winter sunshine and, as we made our way outside again for anothere quick play in the snow, we saw the farm tractor coming down the road. The way ahead was clear and the farmer (who is also our landlord) came over to welcome us, advising that we followed him back to to the farm so that he could rescue us if we had any trouble in the snowy conditions. Fortunately we made the journey without incident, but we felt protected and safe in the knowledge that there was someone just a few metres away who could help us if needed.
Arriving at our new home.
Once we’d got to Gallanach it was a race against the dying daylight to unload the kids and three months’ worth of kit from the car into the house, 100m or so away up a narrow, rocky path. Fortunately a sturdy and capacious wheelbarrow was provided for the purpose, so after a sweaty hour or two we and our wordly possessions had traversed this final obstacle and we were home and - miraculously - dry. Our life on Muck had begun.
