Islay, and a sort of reunion

The Islay ferries run every few hours, seeming to alternate between Port Askaig in the north and Port Ellen in the south in a way that complicates planning a ride.   My one was going to the north, a 2 1/2 hour crossing in the sunshine, on a nice big ferry loaded with all the requisites of island life: half a dozen articulated lorries, and a​ fresh supply of tourists on tin cans on wheels.  It was too hot inside the ferry, and too cold outside.
As we came into the narrow Sound of Jura there were great views of Jura and Islay.  Islay doesn't seem (so far) to be very hilly, but its northern approach was somehow forbidding, with dark green hills tumbling into the sea, and no evidence of civilisation except a couple of baby lighthouses. The sunny southern lowlands of Jura, which IS mountainous, and much wilder, looked positively welcoming.

Port Askaig crams a few buildings into a notch in the hills: a steep ramp leads up and out to the top of the hills. The captain delicately manoeuvred several hundred tons of ferry sideways alongside the jetty without a bump, and we were off up the hill and across the plateau, heading south.  The south of the island couldn't be more different, with a giant arc of a sandy beach curving round perhaps 15-20 miles.  I popped into Bowmore, the capital, a decent sized town with an impressive main street, overseen by an unusual round church at the top. Spent ten minutes, not enough to do it justice, and headed on to Port Charlotte and the youth hostel.  Arriving about 8pm, the white houses of Port Charlotte shone in the evening light.

The hostel is very welcoming and well looked after. But I was on a mission to locate some friends of my cycling buddy Pam, who spent several scuba diving holidays here, about 30 years ago.  "Go to the Lochindaal Hotel and ask for Iain".  Easy?  So I did.  Hesitantly, I asked the young barman if there was anyone here called Iain. "Och aye, he's my dad: he owns the place.". Iain was a bit busy cooking but remembered Pam well: "she drives the buses, yes?". Iain's friend Robert worked there and remembered Pam too, telling me stories of beach barbecues. We were instant friends: thanks Pam!