Slow progress is still progress

Be kind to yourself...... yes you!

Sunshine before the rain - Carradale in July

I’ve been quiet of late, concentrating on recovery, allowing my lack of headspace to work itself out. Frustrated that my idea of a summer of writing retreat should it seems involve a retreat from writing. Impatient when progress feels slow - often then!

After an anxious sort of morning, Billy and I walked to Carradale Bay, we had a notion to paddle, feel the sand beneath our toes. It’s no distance from home to the bay for a fit me, today it was long, hot and considering it’s a flat walk, strenuous, each footstep an effort. My husband and friends had been kayaking, surveying for seagrass, and I met them leaving as I arrived. Refused the kind offer of a lift back, this was my challenge, and I needed it. Billy and I walked out across the sand, me barefoot this time, the pebbles and shells sharp against my unacclimatised feet. I paddled through the cold stream, and on to the sea, bathing warm. I longed to be able to swim, but need to bide the hospital advice and wait a little for the knee to heal more. I fear I will miss all this gorgeous weather. We paddled, dog and human, looking at the sparkling peaty coloured water, feeling the seaweed between our toes. I loved it, Billy less keen, he was only keeping me company, and he soon headed off to lie on the beach.

Carradale Bay, Kintyre

Beach treasure, an old pipe, shell and seaglass.

Despite my ever growing frustration, we have been wandering on beaches and amongst trees this past week. Rain one day sunshine next, trees too often buffeted by strong winds, views then no views. I have been challenging myself with different terrains to walk on, even managed to get to “Billy’s beach”, our name for a shingle beach with grey sand that is his favourite spot for digging Billy holes for no reason, that we can fathom anyway. In fact Billy’s beach is quite a challenge to reach, it crosses big rounded chucky stones, a salt march with some treacherous hidden pools, and a rocky outcrop ( you can see this in the little video). The reward though, even on a scorching hot day (well for Scotland it was a heatwave), was blissful, sea views looking across to Arran. Many an hour has been enjoyed taking in this view, just being, listening, looking, breathing, with occasional pottering looking at rock pools or admiring the extraordinary patterns in the rocks.

Another first this week was a wander through Airds Wood just adjacent to the bumpy unadopted track leading to my house. To be amongst the trees again was therapy, breathing in the scents of the woodland, the musty smell of the leaf mould, the sweet honeysuckle. Noticing the jangle of branches, dappled light mottling the understory, trees left prostrate after Storm Éowyn, roots ripped from the ground. I have only found one Aspen tree in Carradale so far, and was dismayed to find it toppled, embedded in an old abandoned cottage. Heartened though by the clones sprouting nearby, hopeful that somehow they can be saved.

Airds Wood, Carradale

Of course we visited Saddell Bay too. It’s a useful measuring stick for progress. Getting to the bothy and back to the carpark now a given. We were treated to gannet diving again, incredibly close to the beach, so close that we were able to watch the streamlined bodies enter the water and glide just under the surface. We noticed sea trout in the stream recently, delighted in their jumping acrobatics. Maybe some have been feeding the gannets.

Saddell Bay, Kintyre, Scotland

Yesterday my attention was drawn to this article on the BBC News. I need say little more, you will understand my distress, in times of biodiversity loss, what excuse is there for senseless killing.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/c3w42vn0jl3o?app-referrer=deep-link

for those unable to download the link here is the start of the story

A licence for Scotland's last surviving hunt of young seabirds has been granted for the first time since 2021.

For centuries, thousands of gannets were killed for their meat during an annual hunt on Sula Sgeir, a small rocky island 40 miles (64km) north of Ness on the Isle of Lewis.

The tradition, called a guga hunt, dates back to the 15th Century but has not been held for the last three years due to concerns around avian flu.

Scotland's nature agency, NatureScot, said it had received an application for a hunt this year and had granted a licence with a limit of 500 birds.

The agency said the number has been reduced from the 2,000 kills permitted in recent times in order for the gannet population to recover.

Animal welfare campaign group OneKind has described the hunt as "cruel".

Guga Hunt, Isle of Lewis

Tradition is no excuse for unnecessary slaughter. This is no longer the 15th century, we know more, have less biodiversity, need to protect what we have left urgently. There can be no need for killing these young wild birds, already heavily depleted by Avian Flu. Just like there is no excuse for the killing of whales in Iceland. The BBC article reports that

Defenders of the tradition say it is part of island heritage and if carried out correctly is no more cruel than other activities such as grouse shooting

Grouse shooting is also abhorrent - don’t get me started.

I will leave you now, as I sit in our little art gallery The Old Schoolhouse Gallery in Carradale, the door is open, the rain starting to pour in, the hills shrouded in mist. Scottish summers at their finest.

Until next time, be safe and be well. Sarah x

The Old Schoolhouse Gallery, Carradale. just how tiny can a gallery be!