Colonsay

Scarasaig on arrival

Paps of Jura from Oronsay

Priory at Oronsay

Peacocks strutting with peahen at Oronsay

Colonsay hotel

Balnahard beach

Kiloran Beach

Jura from Carnan Eoin, the highest point on Colonsay

Kiloran Bay from Carnan Eoin

Colonsay House

Blue stripes and infinity pool

 This is our "secret beach" said the man in the pub

Secret beach

A beach to ourselves

Over the strand with Jura in background

Colonsay is one of those islands that evoke positive memories: the soft sea air, cuckoos competing with corncrakes for air time and the only consumer goods on sale are home-knitted. Many years ago we had a family holiday on Colonsay and were blessed with several days of fine weather. We spent most days on the beach at Kiloran and enjoyed exhilarating cycle rides to all other parts of the island on the less sunny days. We returned at the end of last week for 3 nights and 4 days made possible by the early morning and late evening ferry crossings by Calmac. The portents were not good with high winds and rain predicted before we left. We arrived in Oban on a dull grey general election morning and ran into four old friends at the ferry terminal. The journey across passed in no time as we caught up on the past thirty years, ate bacon rolls, talked politics, and lamented the negative vibes of the general election campaign. There was no great optimism about the outcome under a first past the post electoral system that heavily favoured the Conservative Party.

We had booked a room at the hotel with a voucher that was a Christmas present. We dumped our luggage and we were ready for action before noon. We hired some bikes from a local called Archie, mine was at least twenty five years old, and set off for Oronsay, the island that is attached to Colonsay at low tide. It took half an hour to cycle down the road to the Strand, the tidal flats that separate the two islands. We dumped the bikes on the shore and began the walk over the shallow film of sea as the tide was receding. It took half hour to cross to Oronsay and, although we had wet feet, it felt a suitable sacrifice for the joy of reaching Oronsay on foot. Last time with three under tens to protect we had hitched a lift across the Strand on a tractor and trailer.

It is 3-kilometre walk from the Strand to the priory on Oronsay, the track curves around the rock outcrops and provides excellent views across to the Paps of Jura. The fields were full of spring lambs and the skies echoed to the sound of lapwings. We lunched in the priory grounds and watched three peacocks strutting their stuff around a peahen. We had to leave sooner than we would have liked so we could beat the incoming tide. There is about a four-hour window to cross and return across the Strand but we had started an hour later than would have been possible. We cycled back to Scalasaig feeling pleased to have reached Oronsay, freewheeling at speed to the pier where we celebrated with a cake in the Pantry, a cafe that was run by a women's co-operative on our last visit but now seems to be privately owned and has lost its ambience. The day had turned from a wet cold grey day on the mainland when leaving home at 6am to a bright spring day on Colonsay. Holidays are meant to be like this.

In the evening we met our friends for drinks and entered the pub quiz before watching the exit poll predictions. They generated heated debate with previously passionate socialists no longer certain of their political allegiance and having a general disdain for the three main parties. For the first time since 1983, I was not involved in the running of the general election so I retired to bed before midnight.

The next day promised more dry weather but the cloud cover remained for much of the morning as we cycled to Port Mor and then along to Kiloran Bay. We stopped at the excellent unmanned Heritage Centre with an open door that locked you in if it blew shut. We walked the length of the beach at Kiloran Bay and I climbed Carnan Eoin, the highest point of the island to capture some photos. We visited Colonsay House for afternoon tea and to recollect our previous stay with the children in a flat in the house. On the cycle back we ran into various folk whom we had met in the bar last night. We had a raucous meal with our friends, eating and drinking more than normal as we were carried along by the extravagance of the group. An 'A' list actress arrived for a meal in the hotel much to the delight of one of our friends.

Much to our surprise, the next day dawned bright and improved as the day progressed. We cycled down to the Strand and walked from Garvard over to the next bay and then to the raised beaches of Ardskenish. We had some lunch on the highest point and on the return found an exquisite beach, all white shell sand with the azure seas lapping the rock bands as the tide retreated and the seals lolled into the water as we passed. The locals later told us that this is their secret beach but we had it to ourselves. We sat and listened to the oyster catchers and I had a snooze on the sand dunes before heading back. The tide was out so we were able to take a short cut over the tidal sands. They were rippled by the outgoing waves and pockmarked by worm casts. The cycle back gave us the chance to work up a thirst that was quenched as we sat in the hotel garden enjoying the warm late afternoon sunshine. Our day was made complete when mussels and then fresh halibut were on offer for the evening meal. This had been a 'given day' as they say in Shetland.

True to the forecast, Sunday arrived with a strong breeze and rain. We decided to ditch the bikes and walked across the island. We rescued a sheep that had its fleece entangled in brambles, walked round the airstrip and visited three beaches. They looked less enticing than the day before, grey rather than golden sand and green rather than blue seas. The tide was still in and the rain began to fall as we headed back spending two hours walking in the soft island rain. We finished with an afternoon of animated conversations in the hotel lounge with fellow guests before catching the boat at 8:10pm. It was well after midnight before we arrived home after negotiating flooded roads around Loch Awe.

Colonsay remains a totally relaxing retreat with the hotel welcoming and providing good food and the focal point for the island, which has only 140 residents. This population swells in summer with the estate letting out cottages and there have been a fair number of new houses built since our last visit. It lacks the vitality and string of magnificent beaches of Coll, but we did find a perfect beach, enjoyed the company of old friends and tired ourselves out each day in the mellifluous sea air.