A Visit to Rum
I'm sure there would have been a raft of stories for the log book on
this sail and visit to RUM, but as this is a sort of " will anybody
write this entry please, it's a long time coming". I hope the accuracy
of the route cards stands up.
It was a lovely evening with calm seas and good light for the sail
over. With Glenmorons gathering near the pier to eat their fish and
chips from a faraway take away and the late comers even eating the
suppers on the boat. It must have been the seas breezes, I was almost
like a seagull wanting to zoom in and snatch a piece of fish from a slow
eater. Such was the tantalising scene as we cast off and away.
A comfortable crossing over the sound with beautiful views of fast
flying fulmars? they were white!(O.K. just call them sea birds then.)and
as we approached the island, great vistas of the hills to be walked and
the high nesting places of the nocturnal flyers and feeders.
An orderly disembarkment from the craft then followed, with a few
peeling off to find their own piece of treasure island, soft dry grasses
to pitch the tent in the evening sun. Is this not too far from the
toilets? Is there a tap near? Harrold and Connie, Monica, David and
Colin. Steve and Kate .
There were stunning views of the red castle as the main party snaked
up the track and entered the forecourt, where the luggage had been
deposited by the staff from the company vehicle. No passengers . All
part of the castle service. With room allocation done , the courtyard
cleared and the weekend began. The dorms were O.K. but the eating area
was a trifle small for large groups.
Most of the glenmorons did the castle tour. Well worth a look see and
to hear the stories of the first telephone, the first swimming pool, the
first central heaing system. Living there for only 18 months in total, a
life of privilege, ballroom parties, and all the rest of it!
For our return home to the mainland, we were in for a lively sail
with dark clouds and strong winds in the bay, soon white faces were
eyeing up the inside of plastic bags and others checking out the wind
direction. Am I too near, that sideways look said to me, as I caught the
eye of a friend. Did I hear calls for hughi and spui, reminders of a
night-time sail alone in the cold north sea not long past closing time.
The ship heaved to and slid into Eigg for some respite, picking up
extra people who had been island hopping and brave souls to partake of
the local treat, a soft yoke egg roll on the isle of Eigg. Ah the high
life!.
More people boarded and squeezed together and as the boat sank deeper
into the water a few did some strap hanging and watched as the sitters
in the stern got wetter and wetter, and the waves got higher and higher
and it rocked and dipped, and dipped again. There was a call of great
urgency " Cum in oot o there ya dumplin yer wet through and ye hivna
goot yer gortex" An understatement to say the least.
So ended this trip to a beautiful place and if you fancy a free stay
on RUM and can do anything in the garden to anything in the kitchen and
don't mind getting done in by the midge, the castle estates will take
you on.
Now to the route cards.
Sat 5th.. Weather not great, Strong winds Mist. 4 cards for the RUM
RIDGE.
Arthur Gill John D. route was Castle Barkeval - to Harris - Mausolium.
Sun 6th..2 groups doing Orval - Ard Nev - Harris ( mausoleum)
Monica & Janet did a special to Lake Monica, another 2 groups went to
Kilmory.
You all know who you are.
James A Smith
P.S.
This postscript for Rum
arrives rather belated
But the tale of the rucksack
just must be related.
The first day 3 set off to
traverse the ridge
The campers escaping from
bites of the midge.
Up by mountain burn, past
shearwater burrows,
(Others by Harris saw remains
of some furrows).
The clouds settled down and
the wind did grow stronger
The time for each peak took
longer and longer.
After 2 summits our trio
planned a descent -
At this stage there happened
a certain event.
One person paused, placed
their bag on the ground,
Then suddenly noticed the
tumbling sound
Of the bag as it rolled
downhill, disappearing
Over some crags – which way
was it veering?
Away it had gone, with the
food and the drink,
Clothing and waterproofs,
over the brink.
C, who had far the best
scrambling ability
Went down those crags with
much skill and agility.
She found a collection of
flowers, so pretty
And also the drinking tube
mouthpiece, quite gritty.
The other 2 tried to descend
the same way
But couldn’t quite cope
without a belay.
So C scrambled back, they all
scanned the slopes,
But no trace of the bag,
though they kept up their hopes.
The location was noted with
GPS bearing
Then the trio set off (2
rucksacs wearing).
They first walked along to
the end of these rocks
And found a good place to get
through the blocks.
They then walked along
beneath these crags
Keeping a good lookout for
bags.
The GPS reading confirmed by
the flowers
Told them when to start using
their searching powers.
Off down the slope they went,
3 abreast,
Scanning to right and left,
east and west.
It seemed a long way with
nothing being found,
Then all of a sudden, M
looked around
And there was the rucksac,
come to a stop
After descending another
outcrop.
So finally the trio got down
to the track
And had an excuse for being
rather late back.
The owner (J) pleaded "Don’t
tell this tale"
But somehow it got out,
p’rhaps after some ale.
