Maraiche

In this post I wanted to share something with you that I’m really proud of being involved with. It includes two very talented Gaelic gentlemen, a band I listen to on repeat, the haunting vocals of Kathleen MacInnes and some of my most favourite places.

The awesome thing about living on this island is that there’s always something fun and creative going on, you never know what you’ll get up to from one week to the next…

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I’ll begin by letting you know about three things that I love:

-Skye
-The water
-Music by the Skye-grown band Niteworks

So, when Dòl Eoin, a talented filmmaker I’d met on the set of Bannan, offered me the chance to take part in the band’s new video there was no way I could refuse.

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Dòl Eoin scouting out the locations around Lealt Falls, where the protagonist climbs away from the waterfall

The words of ‘Maraiche’ are sung in Gaelic and they tell the tale of a woman who has lost her love to the sea.
Dòl Eoin’s vision for the video begins at a Niteworks gigwhere we see her catch a glimpse, or maybe just a memory, of her departed sailor as she becomes entranced by the music. Chasing this vision she races through the streets of Glasgow and we follow her and her memories, Alice In Wonderland-style, towards the sea…

We began filming in familiar Glasgow spots (Ashton Lane, the Tradeston Bridge) then moved on to some of Skye’s most-loved locations; Neist Point, The Fairy Pools, Lealt Falls….
I only had about a week before I was due to leave for Eden and we had multiple locations to shoot in over a number of days so it was a race against time.

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At the Fairy Pools. Dòl Eoin sets up the camera whilst Calum looks on.

My ‘lost sailor’ in the video is someone who loves the water even more than me.
If you live in Scotland and use social media you’ve probably already seen Calum Maclean.
The video of a nutter swimming through a high-altitude icy loch? That’ll be Calum. The naked bum disappearing behind a magnificent waterfall? Probably also Calum. If you haven’t already seen him, look him up, his short videos for BBC Scotland’s The Social are well worth a watch.

They may be a Caribbean blue but the Fairy Pools in March aren’t the warmest of waters (in fact, they’re equally freezing in the summer months too…)
Tourists looked on in confusion whilst, fully clothed, we ducked under, fell off ledges and attempted to film an underwater kiss.
When we finally finished I realised I couldn’t have done much longer. I shuddered big, involuntary juddering shivers and I slid and stumbled down the muddy track back to our cars with limbs barely working -a mild case of hypothermia that was cured by a few hours in a warm pub!
It was worth it though, the aquamarine water of the Fairy Pools made a stunning backdrop to the music.

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A picture rudely swiped from Calum’s Instagram (sorry @caldamac!) It was as chilly as it looks but I love the yellow against the turquoise of the Fairy Pools

Whilst I’m obviously biased, I think Dòl Eoin captured the spirit of ‘Maraiche’ perfectly. I’m was chuffed, still am chuffed, that he’d choose me to work with.

Of course, I didn’t get to see the finished video until I’d left Eden earlier this year but I was thrilled to finally watch it (though I often sat on those Ardnamurchan sand dunes humming Niteworks tunes to myself as I watched the tide go out)

If you’d like to watch it too, you can find it here: Niteworks – Maraiche (feat. Kathleen MacInnes)

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A still shot at Lealt Falls


To learn more about Niteworks and hear the rest of the album visit their webpage niteworksband.com

One Whole Year #2: Another type of ‘changing’

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So my last post was about a year of living on Skye and watching the island alter with each month. When somewhere is so naturally beautiful of course you notice the changes. Life here is defined by the seasons.
Even those who don’t work out at sea or on crofts have to mould their plans to suit the shifting hours of daylight. We rush about to get things done in the short days of winter and then, in summer, it seems like the sun has forgot to set and all our hurry disappears.

When I arrived here I didn’t realise I’d gradually become more attuned to the seasons.
In fact, I didn’t realise how much moving to Skye would change me in general.
I suppose it shouldn’t be a surprise considering I opted for an entirely new lifestyle…

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Do I fit in yet?

Here’s what’s changed…

Firstly, I am now cold-proof.

By that I don’t mean that I no longer get the sniffles (although living away from the crowds does mean that you catch bugs much less frequently) -it means that I’m now well-acclimatised to the Hebridean weather.
There are many wonderful things about living in a big old house but warmth is not one of them; even with a full fire and the heating on full blast it still doesn’t always warm up fully.
95% of my skin remains covered year-round and I’m no longer bothered that I can see my breath when making a cup of tea or that I can’t feel my toes when I get up in the morning.
Now I actually prefer being cold, it makes me feel hardy (though what my guests think might be another matter!)

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There’s no such thing as cold when you’re wearing the right socks

I no longer know what day it is.

This is a peculiar thing that affects most people I know on Skye. We run successful businesses and go about our daily lives with no issue at all but, when asked, we often can’t tell you if it’s a Tuesday or a Friday. Though it’s easy to tell when it’s a Sunday because everything’s closed.

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I care less about money.

Although I sometimes enjoy the high life, I’ve never really been fussed about money (I did choose to become an artist, after all!)

I’m sure this lack of interest might come back to bite me in the bum one day (hello pension!) but right now on Skye it just doesn’t seem to matter as much. Whilst it’s nice to have enough cash to travel or eat out, the best things here are free.

That said, I’m not living the life of a monk.
As the quote goes, ‘Beware of artists as they mix with all sections of society’…  So I might seem to do fancy things, but it really is all by association.
It’s lovely to be invited to swish events but at the end I always go back to the house where I put on an extra jumper on to save on bills and ball up my receipts so I don’t need firelighters. Although the cost of living here is significantly less than London it’s still nice to need less.

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A night staying in a mountain bothy costs nothing. It’s not fancy but good fun

*On the topic of money, I thought I’d mention one of my favourite things about Skye… there’s less of a class system here. Yes, there are differences in wealth but everyone is part of the same community and generally visits most of the same places. 
I always think of the jobs up here being like in a children’s story book or tv show; there’s the postman, the bus driver, the shopkeeper, the doctor… and they’re all respected in the same way. I think that this more level playing field is great.

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You don’t need much to enjoy the view


It’s not just money, I also need less ‘stuff’.

When you don’t have many shops around it forces you to buy less stuff. The thing is, once you’re used to it you realise it’s not really a hardship.
When I went home this Christmas we went into a huge shopping centre and found it kind of gross how people were rushing around with piled-high trolleys grabbing at gifts without thought. It just felt a bit excessive; not what Christmas should be about. I think living on Skye has made me more aware of that.
Of course, I still enjoy shopping (duh!) but I do it far less and I only buy things I really love.
Perhaps, too, it’s also a stronger link to the environment that has made me more aware of the impact of limitless consumerism and the effect that has on natural resources.

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When you do beach cleans it makes you realise how much stuff there is that we don’t need (this was from Duntulm beach last week -sad irony that this is the only turtle I’ve seen here)

I eat differently.
Living on a croft has made me look at dairy differently; when you see the connection between a mother and calf each day it becomes hard to justify drinking milk and supporting the process in which it’s made.
So I swapped to almond milk and now try to eat vegan food as much as possible, although I am happy to eat certain animal products like our neighbour’s eggs or local venison.
However, my views on food are now somewhat long and complicated so this is perhaps a whole other post for another day…

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A mummy cow on the croft

I don’t think an adult in a backwards cap is odd anymore.

In England a fully-grown, 30+ male wearing a baseball cap the wrong way round would be seen as ridiculous. Here it’s not an uncommon sight… Something to do with outdoor adventures, mountain biking and snowsports.
Maybe they’re just big kids or something.
Actually, I take all of that back, I still think it’s really weird.

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Dude, I’m not sure about your hat…

So, there are still some things that have stayed the same.

As I mentioned at the end of the last post, I don’t think I’ll ever get bored of the beauty of this place, each light and season shows something new. If I ever get jaded then maybe it’s time to move on.

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Still a delight to see cows on the road

Here’s what hasn’t changed…

Sheep.

I still love sheep… And cows… And buzzards… And all the other animals that we come across each day here.
If I have to brake to a halt in the middle of the road because of a load of sheep crossing then I’ll still get my camera out to take a picture. I’m also probably just as likely as ever to post it to Facebook with the tired old caption of ‘Skye traffic’.
I still find them charming and characterful and I’m pleased that that never faded away.

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I see ewe, baby!

I still enjoy dressing up.

Of course, a glitzy party dress isn’t going to see as much of Skye as a pair of waterproof trousers and a tatty old Barbour but it doesn’t mean there’s no reason to try.
Although it’s frivolous I always try and put on a sprinkling of glitter with my perfume each day and, whilst my high heels gather dust, wellies don’t really look so bad with a sequin skirt…
Or maybe they do, I don’t know, or care really. You can’t have a bad day if you’ve put a little sparkle into it….

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A rare chance to scrub up at the Polo Awards in May

I’m still the same shape.

Whilst I’m not fat I’ve never been particularly svelte or skinny either; I love food and I’m happily soft and a bit squidgy. But I figured when I came to Skye I’d spend all my days out roaming the hills or battling the sea. I’d be some kind of muscular, athletic superwoman.
I didn’t reckon on the cake factor…

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Afternoon tea at Kinloch Lodge

There’s so much good food on Skye, dammit!

If I look out of my window I can see the cafe that does the best brownies I’ve ever tasted (Single Track, by the way, it’s amazing, go there).
If I drive down the road I reach Skye Pie where Simon and Kirsty sell their little pastry-wrapped bundles of deliciousness.
Then there’s the freshly-baked artisan bread at the Skye Baking Co or the lovely afternoon tea at Kinloch Lodge…

On Skye there is no escape from good food!
With the rough weather it’s been less about burning calories and more about burning logs on the fire with a nice cup of tea. I’ve put on a whole stone in weight since I moved to Skye!
Though maybe that’s why the cold doesn’t bother me so much now…

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Festive treats at Skye Pies

I still love a party.

Of course, parties don’t come up very often here so when they do it’s a real treat.
My only problem is that now I get so excited that I tend to go too hard too soon and therefore render myself completely useless for the next few days!

I’ve been lucky enough to be invited to a fair few estate parties on the mainland since I arrived here. The new friends I meet think I’m a wild party girl from Skye; what they don’t know is that I’ve just been saving it up for months so I’m like some kind of human champagne cork.
There’s been some funny stories as a result, but I’ll save those for another day…

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Uh oh…

So there have been some changes and some not-quite-changes. But it’s amazing to learn what happens in a year.
I wonder what adventures there are to come in the next one…

An evening in two parts: The Dulse & Brose restaurant launch and an evening trip to the shore

Considering Skye’s wealth of local produce and my appetite for trying new flavours I really should have written more blog posts about the food up here.
Perhaps the block has been because there’s so much to write… Where does one even start?

Well, actually that’s just been made easy. I’ll start with another start… the opening of the new restaurant, Dulse & Brose, at the Bosville Hotel in Portree.

Dulse & Brose at the Bosville, Portree

Dulse & Brose at the Bosville, Portree

I was kindly invited along to the event by Tim Hunter-Davies whose PR firm was running the evening.
Whilst I’ve been to lots of launch parties in London, this was the first night of this kind that I’ve been to in Skye and I wasn’t quite sure what to expect.

I must admit that I’m always slightly wary of places that have been refurbed and given a ‘concept’.
They often turn out to be somewhere where you sit on cold modular leather furnishings whilst being offered unappetising little jellies and foams inspired by the chefs late discovery of the molecular gastronomy trend.

Skye’s fine dining comes in more than one type: there’s the try-hard-but-miss ones (as described above); the lazy ones that don’t try because they cater for one-off tourist bookings; and the spot-on destination restaurants.
As I got ready, shrugging off my painting scruffs and brushing my hair, I wondered what kind of place this was to be…

A busy opening night

A busy opening night

The venue was already full when I hurried in to escape the downpour.
I looked around at the crowd.
Once you’ve lived on Skye for a wee while you begin to spot the same characters at each event (although faces taken out of their usual context can be quite confusing, especially when the person in question can usually be found working outside on a boat or croft!)
But it was nice to see some familiar faces such as Mitchell Partridge of Skye Ghillie with his lovely wife Samantha, Mina and Chris from Skye Sea Salt, Marcello Tully from Kinloch Lodge and the boys from Skye Adventure, John and Matt.

It was also really lovely to catch up with Paul and Mags from The Oyster Shed and Karen and Colin from Lochshore House in Edinbane (who I’ve been bumping into on Skye consistently since my very first day here!).
One of the nice things about Skye is that it’s not short of friendly or interesting people -these four are both.

Strangely enough, at this event I met a lot of people who I’d interacted with via Twitter and my Facebook pages but who I’ve never met face-to-face before (including a number of the Hunter-Davies team).
A strange success for online networking and finally a positive excuse for spending so much time on the internet!

Paul and Mags from the Oyster Shed with Karen and Colin from Lochshore House

Paul and Mags from the Oyster Shed with Karen and Colin from Lochshore House

The food was a taster selection of canapes representing dishes from the main menu. I watched them glide past on huge white serving dishes like flying saucers whilst I chit-chatted hello to various familiar faces.
It must have been about half an hour before the conversation paused for long enough for me to try anything.

I plucked a little cup from a passing platter. Mushroom soup.
Soup isn’t something I’ve ever been interested in but I wanted to try a bit of everything tonight, this included.

I’m pleased I did, it was delicious. I’m not quite sure how the kitchen managed to get such a lot of flavour into a little serving of speckled taupe liquid. It was velvety and rich in umami with a cheesy, almost truffle-y garnish.
I’ve never ordered soup from a menu before but I’ll definitely have this when I come back here. I’d also be interested to see how well it works in a larger portion.

A terrine made from Kyle rabbit with apple and jam on crisp toasts was equally tasty. The meat was seasoned well (I think rabbit err on the bland) and the puree was sweet but acidic enough to counter the gaminess.
Well done D&B; two out of two.
Those first two tasters were my favourites but the rest were also good. The menu takes inspiration from Skye’s world-class produce and treats it with simplicity and respect. It’s something that I’ve noticed a lot of new places try but fail at; they complicate things with technique and the original ingredients become lost.
The source of each ingredient is stressed on every printed placemat or menu leaflet. For once it’s not just lip service to the importance of provenance.

The taster menu

The taster menu

As for the style/atmosphere of the place itself?

It was exactly how interior design should be done on Skye; contemporary but warm. Clean lines and minimalist design can be lovely but this is an island where you want a cosy place to retreat to on a dreicht day and stark modernism doesn’t usually provide that. The rough wood and earthen tweeds were stylish but in a comfy, casual way.

Skye arts and crafts line the rustic boxy shelves. Like the menu it’s a nice commitment to local artisans. Even the upholstery was made by Skyeweavers, a local couple who weave tweeds in their workshop on a foot-pedalled loom.

A map of Skye and it's local producers

A map of Skye and it’s local producers

It was a generous evening; the canapes didn’t stop and champagne flowed freely. The live music was a nice touch and the atmosphere was relaxed. Top marks all round.
But, all that said, these things aren’t what will make this a successful restaurant. What makes a successful restaurant is the strength of the cooking…

Once the evening had drawn to a close I sat in my car and unfolded the menu from my pocket. Within seconds I’d decided what I wanted to come back and try. I also decided what I’d have on my second visit.
If that’s not a good sign I don’t know what is…

***

I often get a restless energy in the evening, a kind of witching-hour desire to wander. It kicked in again when driving home after the restaurant launch…

As I neared the top of the island I remembered a text from my landlady about long finned pilot whales still in Staffin Bay. Although past 10:30pm it was still light. If they were still there I should be able to see them.

I pulled off the road and went down to Staffin Slipway. A glance from a few viewpoints. Nothing. They’d left.

Staffin Bay

Staffin Bay. Still light at around 10:45pm

Back on the main road I picked up speed and then… what was that? Something splashing close to shore. Not gone!
Almost missing the turning I swerved onto the track for Brogaig car park, crunched to a halt and jumped out.

It turns out, unsurprisingly, that long sequinned skirts and canvas sneakers aren’t the best items of clothing in which to tackle a boggy path after a month of constant Hebridean drizzle.
Painstakingly hopscotching over the puddles and tripping over my hem wasn’t working. I tucked my skirt into my knickers and sploshed through the mud. Who cares about soggy feet when there’s wildlife to be seen…

Muddy toes

Muddy toes

Down on the beach the whales were still slightly too far away to be seen properly. I took my shoes and socks off to wade out but the beach was still too shallow to get much of a view, even when I found a rock to perch on for height.
All I could make out was a closely-knitted group of bobbing heads. It wasn’t behaviour I recognised but I didn’t think anything of it (after all I’m a cetacean enthusiast but not an expert)

It started to rain (again) so I pulled my hood on and fastened my coat right to the top. Despite not being able to see the whales well I enjoyed how surreally special it felt to be standing bare-legged alone on a rock in the ocean in the drizzle in the wee hours. It was nice to just stand there listening to the fat water droplets hit the sea water around my feet.
What is it about the sound of rain that makes us all so calm…

Cold toes

Cold toes

In front of me I noticed some creatures surfing the breakers; left and right, back and forth. Very large and curious seals I guessed.
I dismissed the urge to wade out further to get a closer look: when you’re alone common sense must prevail over adventure; the chance of getting too cold or caught out by a current isn’t worth the risk. Not being able to swim in cold water when and where I want is one of the few things that frustrates me about being up here alone.
As the light finally began to dim I started shivering and it was time to trudge back up to the car.

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Late night light

I walked through my door leaving my socks and sneakers in a gritty, sodden pile on the doormat.
It was an enjoyable evening but little did I know that it was to be continued in a less pleasant way…

‘We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars’

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Oscar seemed to like the stars a bit too…

Last night, as I turned the lights off and went to climb the stairs I stopped in the hallway, distracted by the pale grey light shining through the porch door window.
Opening the door I looked out at the bay lit in the monochrome of a full moon. It was so bright that it looked like early morning. Like a floodlight, I could see everything.
I shouldn’t go to bed, this was too beautiful to ignore.

It took a considerable amount of effort to resist pulling on my wellies for a walk down to the ocean shore. It may be a tranquil night but I’ve already heard plenty of stories about people getting themselves into trouble by trusting a false sense of security. Wandering alone near the cliffs at night is too risky, even when the night’s peace seems limitless.
Instead I pulled on my ski jacket and salopettes. I grabbed a hat, a glass of whisky, some gloves, a blanket and a sleeping bag. I ventured outside to lay on the grass between the house and the water. Tucking myself into a warm, blanketed cocoon I stared up.

The whole scene above me looked like a cliché, like a fantasy-artist interpretation of a night sky. Or maybe something a teenager might paint as they dream up improbable, romantic images of the universe.
The stars were vivid, extra bright, like cheap LEDs. The clouds sat in huge white fluffy layers underneath. Then came the dramatic sooty black of the rocks. Below that the constant, shimmering ripple of moonlit on the water. Apart from the odd red star there was no colour, just light and dark.
It might be one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.

I popped in my headphones, took a sip of whisky and let my head fall back onto the cushion. As I did a vivid streak of blue light crossed the sky in front of me. A shooting star. I laughed out loud, it was too bright, too obvious. It was like the heavens were showing off.
The wine and whisky must have washed over me, I felt elated. I’m glad there was no-one there to see me, I probably looked like a crazy person, grinning like a Cheshire cat and with eyes sparkling from joy.

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The music shuffled round to Wasting My Young Years by London Grammar, a song whose lyrics feel quite appropriate to me. My biggest phobia has always been getting older; a constant fear of passing into the next stage of life having missed experiences in the former. The awareness that life is brief and that there’s too much to fit in in such a short space of time. Frankly, it scares the bejeesus out of me.

As the song came on it reminded me of this. But as I lay there I felt nothing. No fear, no phobia. For the first time in my life I don’t feel like there are other experiences happening in the world that I might be missing out on. At this precise moment this is all I need. There’s nothing I could want more right now than to be on my back staring up at the stars.

It reminds me why I love this place. It’s strange to feel so attached to a geographical area but I feel that there’s something special here. I can’t work out what.
I might be alone tonight but I don’t feel lonely one bit. I notice shadows fly above me and move in the corner of my eye but I don’t feel fear.
(Actually, I haven’t ever felt scared here. Each night I hear doors blow open and closed downstairs or things move or wind rush down the chimneys. But I’m never scared)

I’m not sure what it is about this place, something just feels right. Looking up at the stars I feel at home.

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