The King over the Sea: Part 4

 The Isle of Gigha, sunlit greeted us. Some hardy travelers would be taking a (3 hr) hike along the island’s coastline. Others, on this Monday morning would make their way to the woodland gardens of Achamore House. I was going to be grown up and strike out on my own.

While others turned left once off the pontoon, I turned right heading for the silver sandy beach I’d seen from the Zodiac. It was a delight.

There was a guy setting out his bicycles for hire. He had loads of electric ones and a stonking electric tricycle. I also met a couple in a very nice camper van. It was very new and they were getting to know all its quirky ways.

I walked back the way I came, stopping to scent the heather, spiking my nose at the same time. I’d passed a small church opposite the local shop and went in to be greeted by a local with a Dyson sprucing up the church. We’d been told the night before that there was to be a funeral that day but I’d forgotten. I was invited in and shown around. The church was served by a priest who ministered to three parishes on different islands. He said he thought it was a heavy load for one minister to bear.

As I was leaving the funeral party arrived: I said my respects and went on my way. 

Continuing along the main road in the direction of the gardens, I took a short detour to be met by the friendliest of dogs. I can imagine they provide immense comfort and companionship during the darkling winter evenings. I also saw two cows asleep!

When I mentioned this to Lesley on the phone she questioned whether they were sleeping. I couldn’t go back to check.

I was keen to visit the 13th century chapel and graveyard so briskly walked on past the entrance to the gardens. I’d been told to take a turning on the right hand side led to the village hall and the chapel.

And I walked and walked but no sign of the turning. Luckily I met a woman coming the other way. She been camping and cycling all the way from Inverness and with a much better sense of direction pointed me back the way I’d come. I walked with her for a while and then turned up the right path to the chapel. Along the road in the ditch were these gems.

I walked past the graveyard, looking for the chapel but couldn’t see it and at a sign pointing to a standing stone - or so I thought - climbed and climbed and climbed up a muddy, rock strewn path. On the way I passed this:

On, at last, reaching the top of the hill I took in the view before making my way back down to the graveyard.

On entering the graveyard I met the grave digger, who looked after graves across the isles although he’s stationed on the mainland. He’d dug the grave for that day’s funeral, the grave and its spoil covered with tarpaulin. Serendipity or what! And there in middle of that graveyard was the chapel!!! 

After taking loads of tombstone portraits I headed back , on the way meeting up with a youthful German couple from Freiburg. The disappointment of the day was to find the pub by the landing jetty closed. I had thoughts of a glass of something to celebrate my self propelled trip on Gigha. 

I will leave with a few snaps of tombstones. Tomorrow Iona