Day 250: Isle of Gigha to Islay

There’s a beautiful sunrise, so I nip out in my shorts, climb the small hill nearby and take a photo before preparing a bowl of raspberries and porridge from the warmth of my sleeping bag.

Due to ongoing work at the Kennacraig ferry terminal, the Islay schedule is constantly changing. There are few crossings on a normal day, so I must arrive early to ensure I reach the island today. I catch the first ferry from Gigha at 7:35 am, accompanied by secondary school children and a teacher. A girl works on her last-minute homework on the 20-minute crossing. The method of transportation may be different but children are the same everywhere.

Back on the mainland, I keep to the A83, as I’m pressed for time, which requires a little verge hopping, compensated by the fine views.

The afternoon ferry is an hour late. It sails to Port Askaig, whereas I’m staying on Port Ellen on the other side of the island, but that ferry does not run until 8 pm and I can’t rely on it. The delay means I’ve missed the last bus across the island, but I’ll work something out. My priority is to get onto the island; I can walk anywhere but it’s a little beyond my swimming range, an embarrassing single length of a pool.

The two-hour trip is exhilarating, although it’s freezing on the open-top deck, and the small crowd thins out to a few hardy visitors wrapped in layers. Jura awaits my return in May.

The Lord of the Isles weaves patterns in the water.

Arriving on Islay — The Queen of the Hebrides — a smaller ferry takes a couple of hikers across to Jura.

The last bus will only take me as far as Bowmore. Then it’s either a taxi or an 11-mile evening walk.

There’s an hour to wait for the bus, so I call into the bar of the Port Askaig Hotel. Marion, the owner, after giving me her life history, explains that some ferry staff live in Port Ellen and could give me a lift after their shift ends. She walks down to ask but they are not on this shift. Instead, I’m offered a pitch in her garden, which would be lovely if not for my booked and paid-for B&B.

A woman walks in with two dogs. She’s waiting for the ferry to the mainland and kindly offers to drive me to my B&B. Unfortunately, there’s not enough time for the one-hour round trip before her ferry leaves. Is everyone so helpful on this island?

There’s no WiFi in the main bar as it “stops people chatting and singing”, but Marion shows me a spot with a signal in the back bar and I book a taxi from Bowmore.

Islay has nine active whisky distilleries. I’ve booked a tour of the famous Laphroaig distillery for my last day so brush up on my knowledge.

I’m the only passenger on the bus. John, the driver, tells me to move to the front to chat. He was a distillery operations manager for 28 years but did not like the changes.

“All Zoom calls and meetings instead of just getting on with my job.”

Sounds familiar.

“Is that a Borders accent?”

I’m slipping back into my Newcastle roots the longer I’m in Scotland.

Once he learns I’m headed to Port Ellen, his home town, he offers to take me there after his last official stop in Bowmore. Unfortunately, I mention the booked taxi and he refuses to undermine local business.

After an entertaining journey, he parks opposite the taxi and I find myself standing in the high street between the two vehicles with their windows down.

Taxi driver: “Don’t be daft. Just take the man to Port Ellen for free.”

Bus driver: “I can’t do you out of business.”

Me (incredulous): “You are both great guys. Let me give you both a fiver and I’ll take the bus.”

I end up in the taxi. The driver makes his living taking Americans on day-long whisky distillery tours: tiny distances, a lot of waiting, low fuel costs, big tips — good business.

“I’m planning to walk round the Oa peninsula tomorrow.”

“Watch out for the mist and the adders.”

Not again.

Cala Sith Guesthouse is perfect, with six separate rooms and a shared kitchen. I wander over to the Islay Hotel for dinner. They are busy but squeeze me in. Two whisky tour parties of older men are in the bar, one French and one American. Someone orders a dram for £90. I’ll stick to beer.

I love Islay already – everyone is so friendly and chatty. I’ve stepped into Local Hero.

Walk distance: 15 miles.

Total distance: 4,199 miles.