Showing posts with label mess. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mess. Show all posts

Saturday, June 02, 2012

Leaving a mark on the landscape.

The tertiary volcanic eruptions have left their mark on the south coast of Arran. Dramatic basalt dykes radiate out at right angles from the Kildonan Shore.


We came across this carved stone seat. Its inscription reads "does the song of the sea end at the shore or in the hearts of those that listen". This is a quote from the Lebanese poet Khalil Gibran and the seat was carved in 2008 by Lamlash sculptor Tim Pomeroy. It commemorates Bill and Catriona Sillars but nowhere do their names appear on the stone, you need to spend some time on Google to discover them. The seat is not in a particularly remote place, it is on the main coastal path round Arran. It performs a useful function, unlike the granite obelisks (John Smith loved this spot etc.) and piles of crematorium ash that litter some of Scotland's remote places, I liked this seat.

In complete contrast, we came across this memorial to someone's camp. They had torched the lot; tent, sleeping bag, clothing, food and rubbish. They clearly didn't want the bother of carrying anything back. Modern camping gear is so cheap, it clearly made sense to burn it to minimise the effect of their camp on the landscape. I am not sure if the Blackwaterfoot ladies' militia would have approved.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

The tale of hypocritical camper.

This is the view that the solitary camper at Bracken Bay had as we impinged on his solitude. One by one, we appeared over his horizon.

 The latest addition to our little band is Andrew in his nice new Etain.

 Jim came in next...

 ...followed by Tony to join Phil and I on the beach.

The camper had pitched his tent in the field, which is just to the right of this photo. He came over with his friendly boxer bitch and asked where we were going. Then he told us that he was a very tidy camper, not like the yobs and neds that came here in the summer to drink and leave a mess. He seemed like a straightforward guy and we took him at his word.

By chance Phil arrived back at Bracken Bay the next afternoon. The now abandoned "camp site" was littered with an old carpet, newspapers, numerous empty drink cans and other indescribables. There was a huge fire ring burnt in the grass. What a hypocrite!

Phil did his best to clean up and took as much of the rubbish home in his kayak as he had room for. Thank you Phil!