Scotland’s Wee Bit o’ Island Heaven

TOBERMORY, Scotland —  The sinister clouds that trailed our ferry from the mainland town of Oban, 35 miles across the Sound of Mull, seemed ominous. A wild wind whipped the steel-gray waves into lusty swells, forcing us inside the boat to brood over steaming hot chocolate and gaze toward the approaching island, its craggy shore studded with castles and towering cliffs.

“Brrrrr,” I said, a comment that I was to repeat frequently over the next two days. It was, by Inner Hebrides Islands standards, a lovely July afternoon. But our destination, Mull, has the dubious distinction of being the wettest island in the Inner Hebrides--along with the Outer Hebrides, a group of about 100 islands and islets off the wild west coast of Scotland. And so it was that we found ourselves an hour later in a store called Togs and Clogs in the town of Tobermory, purchasing oilskin all-weather coats.

“We’re very lucky here,” said the amiable proprietor, his Scottish accent as thick as the fog stealing across the bay. “The Gulf Stream warms us in summer . . . but it seems to have changed course this year.”

Gulf Stream or not, Mull possesses a lyrical, awe-inspiring landscape that once lured literary greats such as Robert Louis Stevenson, Charles Dickens, Sir Walter Scott and William Wordsworth to its bracing shores. Stevenson’s “Kidnapped” was written and set here, with fictional, shipwrecked hero, David Balfour swimming ashore on the sands of Mull’s Erraid, a tiny tidal islet where the author occupied a cottage while penning the novel. (His house overlooked Torran Rocks and the Dubh Artach lighthouse, constructed by his father, who built many in the area.)

A miniature world composed entirely of gneiss, one of the hardest and most unyielding rocks in the world, portions of Mull and the neighboring island of Iona are estimated to be 1,500 million years old, the stunning remains of volcanism. Moonscape moors and rolling hills add depth to this rich tapestry embroidered with so many streams that you’re seldom far from the sound of a running brook.

Fingal’s Cave, on the tiny, uninhabited nearby island of Staffa, is a prime example of the tide’s powerful sculpting force, a cavern so beguiling it has moved many an artist to capture its essence. Although Joseph Turner rendered it brilliantly on one of his most famous canvases, and poets John Keats, Wordsworth, Lord Alfred Tennyson and Scott eloquently wrote of their impressions, it was composer Felix Mendelssohn, who, after a visit in 1829, would forever popularize the spot. The interior that looks like naturally crystallized organ pipes and the sounds in the sea-battered cavern inspired him to compose the moody “Hebrides Overture.” Thus the island’s major musical event is the annual Mendelssohn on Mull Festival. Spanning 10 days in early July (June 28 through July 6, this year), it commemorates the composer’s 1829 visit and work.

If my husband and I had been more prudent in our planning, we would have timed our visit to coincide with one of Mull’s musical celebrations, such as the Traditional Music Festival, held the last weekend in April. But we’d decided to ramble around the countryside with no fixed schedule or rules on this, our third adventure combing the Scottish wilds. Setting off from London in a rental car, we leisurely made our way up the North Sea coast, then cut across the land at Inverness to the Atlantic side, where the Hebrides rise like monoliths from the pounding waves. After an aborted attempt two years before, when rough seas had made the ferry crossing impossible, we’d finally made it to Mull.

Perched off Scotland’s west coast, Mull is 367 square miles, boasting a handful of tiny villages with names like Fishnish, Croggan and Calgary. If you travel the single-lane B8073 circular road all the way around, you cover 60 miles of earth so defined by its violent past that it feels almost haunted. The Macleans were Mull’s ruling clan, lording over the land like the minor kings they were and plotting against their rivals, the Campbells. Ready to cross swords at the smallest hint of insult, the clansmen would lay down their lives for their chief and left behind valuable records of their tears and triumphs: Ruined castles and crumbling forts punctuate the cliffs, creating a slightly lonely, solitary feeling that would, no doubt, suit an artistic temperament.

At Grass Point, just south of Duart Castle on the island’s west coast, the late sculptor, poet and writer Lionel Leslie (first cousin to Winston Churchill), lived and worked in Dover’s Inn, a ruin he restored himself. When Leslie was alive, until the mid 1980s, boatloads of visitors would arrive from the mainland each summer to have tea, buy his crafts and listen to his bewitching stories. Artists today head for Inniemore, a guest house and painting school for budding amateurs that offers first-rate instruction in Carsaig Bay on Mull’s southwest shore. Mull is also the site of Britain’s smallest professional theater, as listed in the “Guinness Book of Records.” With just 37 seats, Mull Little Theatre, in the village of Dervaig (eight miles southwest of Tobermory), stages adventurous productions that are acclaimed throughout Scotland and for which seats should be booked well in advance. The theater rests on the grounds of Druimard Country House, a comfortable inn that offers excellent pre-theater dinners (about $30 a person) and lodging.

*

Our ferry landed in Craignure, a tiny settlement 22 miles from Tobermory, surely the prettiest port in western Scotland and the island’s largest village. In this place where the native red deer outnumber people (3,000 versus 2,500), we didn’t pass a soul on the road that afternoon, even though it was the peak of the tourist season. This may be, in part, because the islanders--a large segment of whom, I was told, are retired military men--seem to regard tourism as fiscally necessary but something of an interruption. Unlike many British beauty spots, the citizens of Mull resisted commercial fever as long as possible, and even their debate, in the 1960s, about the introduction of a car ferry and what that would do to the character of the island, raged on for years.

Tobermory rises in terraced rows above a precise little harbor of fishing boats and pleasure yachts trimmed with a waterfront crescent of rainbow-hued 18th century buildings so quaint that they resemble a movie set. First established as a fishing port in 1788 with only 100 settlers (the population now numbers approximately 800), it’s also Scotland’s smallest burgh, the Scottish term for an incorporated town, taken from the English word borough.

Like a microcosm of day-to-day life, Tobermory’s toylike storefronts perfectly reflect the island’s needs and predilections. Here stands the Clydesdale, Mull’s only bank (there’s also a mobile Bank of Scotland that travels from village to village), the Family Butcher, the fishmonger, the Tackle & Books store, Mull Pottery, the Island Bakery & Tea Room and the Mishnish Hotel, whose welcome message on the window reads, “Meals, Highland Hospitality, Live Music--A Family Concern for Over a Century.” Local artisans--weavers, poets, sculptors, water-colorists--display and sell their work in a gallery at the tiny Mull Museum, housed in a former church.

I was particularly taken with the old-fashioned sign that hangs above the Tobermory Hotel, a hand-painted rendition of the quayside in all its bright glory. But the seafront’s centerpiece is surely the Town Clock, a chiming ornamental tower whose origins lie entirely with the Bird Sisters, a pair of intrepid, sociable artists who rented a holiday cottage here each summer for many years. In 1905, Isabella Bird had the clock built in memory of her beloved (and much frailer) sibling, Henrietta, who died of typhoid at Tobermory in 1880. A travel author of some note in her day, Isabella penned “A Lady’s Life in the Rocky Mountains” and “Unbeaten Tracks in Japan.” She also enjoyed lecturing about her worldly adventures to the packed town hall, once describing her visits to the Far East while wearing a complete Chinese outfit.

*

Even before the Middle Ages, sorcery and superstition were commonly practiced in remote locations like Mull--communities separated by vast distances and cut off from urban and church influence. Sacrifices and offerings of herbal potions, talismans and rites were regularly employed to ward off evil, with certain streams, lakes and wells thought to have miraculous qualities. Tobermory takes its name from Mary’s Well--Tobar Mhoire being Gaelic for “Well of St. Mary”--said by travelers of old to have magical, medicinal qualities. According to current guidebooks, the exact site of the well is unknown, but English King Edward VII erected a little monument to it in 1902, which is tucked into some rhododendron bushes on the right side of the town cemetery entrance.

But it is the Western Isles Hotel, sitting high on a promontory atop a wooded headland over the bay, that remains very much the town’s most imposing landmark and provides magnificent sea views from almost every nook.

Opened in 1883, when Victorian visitors swelled the tourist trade, the Western Isles is like a dark, rambling mansion from the pages of an Edgar Allen Poe story; its lobby, public rooms and halls resembling a curious oddball museum of collectibles that perhaps only the collector himself could fully appreciate. After passing through the front door, we were immediately confronted with the severed heads of a dozen deer, their glass eyes staring us down from trophied walls. (The opposite side was devoted entirely to mounted antlers.) A baby grand piano graced the sitting room, which was itself accented with almost 100 ceramic and porcelain cats.

All guest rooms bore Scottish names, and we were led by a quiet young chap to the Glendfiddich room--a swig of which would have been just what we needed after hauling our heavy luggage up to the third floor suite. One glimpse out our windows, however, confirmed that the effort had been worthwhile. It was like standing in the crow’s nest of a schooner: Far below us, fishing boats pulled into the bay to unload their catch. The air was so clear it made us feel almost giddy.

Decorated in a typically British forest-green theme, the room itself was large, comfy, clean and serene. We had no sense of other guests until breakfast the next morning (classical music, silver service, fresh flowers on the table), when we realized the place was almost full.

Mull is one of the finest spots in Scotland to savor fresh fish from a daily harvest that includes lobster, scallops and crab, simply prepared using home-grown ingredients. Although Tobermory’s best restaurant is considered to be Strongarbh House on a street behind the Western Isles, we opted to navigate the tall stone stairs leading down to the sea, where a handful of family-run eateries line the quay. Choosing the nautical styled Captain’s Table, we feasted on piquant tomato soup, local bay prawns and a sort of Scottish version of crab risotto, laced with sherry, and watched from our window seat as the mist began to roll in like an anticipated guest.

Out in the bay, the Duke of Argyll and other well-heeled sportsmen have been known to fish for bigger game, namely the sunken treasure in a Spanish galleon named the San Juan (once thought to be the gold-laden pay ship of the Spanish Armada) that went down in the bay in 1588. When dredged (the last effort being in 1982), it was found to contain only minor booty: Salvagers brought up pewter candlesticks, some gold coins, even a skull, but the search for better loot is expected to continue. (Divers should note, however, that the wreck is protected and diving in the area is forbidden.

Before returning that night to our room at the top, I went to the window and leaned out as far as possible, inhaling the fresh salty air, mesmerized by the bright lunar beam that slashed the black bay. The night had cleared and I stood there for almost an hour, watching the lights go off, one by one, in the houses around town. A tiny cloud hit the moon; the spotlight on the water dimmed and I heard the voice of the waves, like music, calling the ships home.

*

To try to discover Mull in a couple of days is a common mistake and our only regret. You need at least a week--and a good all-weather coat--to wander this place. With its wealth of open spaces you can set out on a quiet stroll and find yourself at the top of a mountain, or experience all four seasons in the space of an afternoon. The wind is often a blasting northerly gale; the rain’s bruising force can leave your cheeks feeling as if they’ve been stung by a swarm of wasps, but when it shines, the sun casts such a heavenly glow upon lochs and moors, you forget there ever was a dark cloud.

(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX / INFOGRAPHIC)

GUIDEBOOK: Isle Idyll in Mull

Getting there: American, Virgin Atlantic, British Air and KLM offer service, all involving a change of planes, to Glasgow. Restricted advance-purchase fares start at $650 round-trip.

The drive from Glasgow to Oban, from where the Mull ferries depart, is about 95 miles. The Caledonian MacBrayne line serves the Hebrides and the Western Isles and publishes a comprehensive brochure with schedules, prices and special deals. The round-trip adult fare is about $8; prices for cars (depending on their size) begin at about $55. The ferry service to Mull runs year-round: from the United States telephone 011-44-1631-56-2285.

Where to stay: The Western Isles Hotel, Tobermory, Isle of Mull PA756PR, Scotland. Price per person for bed and breakfast in-season (April through October) is approximately $80 plus tax; off-season is approximately $65 per person; tel. 011-44-1688-30-2012.

Druimard Country House, Dervaig, Isle of Mull PA756QW, Scotland (eight miles southwest of Tobermory). Room rates for dinner, bed and breakfast start at about $80 per person. Open one week before Easter to November; tel. 011-44-1688-40-0345.

Entertainment: The 37-seat Mull Little Theatre has a full summer season this year; plays in rotation include David Mamet’s “Speed-the-Plow” and the Scottish classic, “Whisky Galore.” Tickets about $12 per person; tel. 011-44-1688-40-0245.

Duart Castle is open daily, May through September; admission is about $6.

Where to eat: The Captain’s Table, Main Street, Tobermory, (casual) serves a variety of fresh fish dishes; dinner for two (excluding drinks) about $35; tel. 688-30-2313.

Strongarbh House, located behind the Western Isles Hotel, Tobermory; excellent seafood, about $35 per person, without drinks; tel. 688-30-2328.

For more information: British Tourist Authority, 551 Fifth Ave., Suite 701, New York 10176-0799, (800) 462-2748 or (212) 986-2200; fax (212) 986-1188.

--L.M.