Wild, wet and wonderful: Western Scotland in autumn

Dec 10 2011 by Linda Whitwam, Huddersfield Daily Examiner

WEST coast of Scotland in the middle of autumn? You must be mad!

This optimistic appraisal was uttered by my father, a veteran of many family holidays north of Hadrian’s Wall, on learning that I was planning to spend a long weekend in Oban.

A quick look at the weather forecast confirmed our worst fears: cloudy and mostly wet for the whole three days. Undeterred and with the old adage ‘there’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing’ ringing in our ears, Patricia and I filled my car with a mountain of outdoor clothing, waterproofs, hiking boots, golf clubs, reading books and anything else we could think off before setting off for a short break in the traditional Scottish fishing port.

After a surprisingly pleasant journey – one of the joys of travelling out of season – we arrived as dusk was falling. Driving west along the A85 Dunollie Road, the view of the natural sheltered harbour stretched out below us, fishing boats already safely moored for the night. The street lights were just beginning to twinkle in the waters of Oban Bay. It was a most welcoming sight as we dropped down into the town.

Known as The Gateway to The Isles and, more recently, the Seafood Capital of Scotland, Oban is the main town in Argyll. The area has remained sparsely populated throughout its colourful history, largely due to the mountains and sea lochs which left it isolated from the rest of Scotland.

It’s a busy hub for CalMac and smaller boat operators who provide a vital ferry network between Oban and over a dozen outlying islands.

Oban’s population has now reached the dizzy heights of 8,000, which can triple when the tourist season is in full flow.

As we arrived, Friday night shoppers were hurrying home along George Street and a CalMac Hebridean ferry was disgorging a couple of dozen travellers on to the floodlit dock.

Much of Oban was built in Victorian times and one of the finest examples of their forefathers’ grandiosity is the three-star Caledonian hotel. This landmark edifice with its pointed towers is in prime position on the waterfront overlooking the harbour and bay.

We were shown to a large, atmospheric tower room on the third floor with spectacular views. The bedroom overlooked the harbour, but the best mirador was the bathroom which had a panoramic view of what appeared to be Rome’s Coliseum, the main shopping street and Oban Bay.

After a quick freshen-up it was out into the town, which turned out to be surprisingly lively. We peered through the window of the Cuan Mor in George Street and were unable to resist the warm candle-lit glow of the inviting interior.

Inside the place was buzzing, packed with diners and drinkers, tourists and locals. We sat ourselves at the bar, made entirely of wood reclaimed from the sea and fish crates. After a warm welcome by the friendly barmaid, we ordered a couple of Ginger Jakey beers brewed by the Oban Bay Brewery, based in the back room.

An excellent dinner, which included freshly caught local scallops, under the chandeliers of the Caledonian’s elegant Victorian dining room was followed by a good night’s sleep.

We awoke to find that, for once, the weather forecast was accurate. “Nobody comes here for the weather”, said the receptionist cheerfully as we all stared out at the grey drizzle.

We decided to go hiking anyway. The choice of walks in the area is endless from a 15-minute ramble up to McCaig’s Folly, as we discovered the imitation Coliseum overlooking the town is called, up to a full day’s ascent of the rugged summits of local munros.

As the clouds were low, we decided to play safe and stick to the coast. The hotel helpfully provided print-outs of maps for the Appin area 20 minutes north.On our way up we stopped at the Connel cantilever Bridge, not to marvel at the feat of Victorian engineering, but to watch the daredevil kayakers take on the low tide rapids.

The walk to Port Appin and back was wild and atmospheric. Less than a mile out at sea the resolute Castle Stalker rises from an impossibly small island, still standing after more than 600 years of being fought over by the clans of Macdougall, Stewart, MacDonald and McLean. It was lost to the Campbells on a number of occasions, once for an eight-oared boat in a drunken bet. Now privately owned, it is open on a limited basis for visits.