Last Updated on June 6, 2019 by PowersToTravel
I was a teenager when my father took me to New York City to a British oldies film revival. We saw the 1945 film, “I Know Where I’m Going!” starring Wendy Hiller and Roger Livesley. It is the ultimate romance movie, set in the Scottish Isles, featuring the handsome but impoverished laird of Kiloran. Laird is not “Lord,” in terms of nobility, but rather the owner of a Scottish estate. In this case, the estate is the Isle of Kiloran. The story is heartwarming (some say trite!), scenery is amazing, in spite of the movie being in black and white, and the locals are endearing.
Many years later, browsing for Scottish movies on the Internet, I bumped into a re-issue of “I Know Where I’m Going!” and I just had to purchase it. Most of the movie takes place on the Isle of Mull; the actors never do take the little ferry to the Isle of Kiloran. I had since visited Mull and was enchanted again by the scenes in the movie – the castles and mountains, villages and accents. I can still hear the burrrrr of the Laird of Kiloran – “I am the Lairrrrdd. The Lairrrdd of KEE-lorr-rrin.”
In 2007 my mother and I vacationed together, bound for the Isle of Colonsay, which is the real-life name for Kiloran. We took the car-ferry from Oban to Scalasaig, the small port village on the Isle of Colonsay. Arriving in the dark, in the mist, we drove from the port, and almost missed the sign for the hotel. We had arranged to stay in a self-catering “A-Frame” cottage behind the hotel. In the morning we wandered out and discovered the village consisted of the hotel, the pier, the volunteer fire house, the church, the brewery and a general store.
The single-track road led inland and we followed it to the west coast of the island. The skies were overcast and we quickly drove the rocky coast, heading north through the village of Kilchattan, where most of the people actually live. Finally we found ourselves alone in a car park overlooking the hill-encircled sands.
Scotland – Kiloran Bay
The clouds began to part, the skies brightened and we gazed down upon Kiloran Bay. The tide was far, far out, and the sands, even in this light, glowed a matte gold. We climbed down and strolled out onto the beach. We were alone, the hills surrounding us, the surf lightly crashing on the sands. I was, at last, on this symbol of my childhood dreams.
“Let’s take off our shoes and wade!” my mother exclaimed.
Sneakers tied around our necks, Gortex pants rolled up to our knees, we stepped into the surf. The water splashed on our feet.
“Let’s swap cameras – you take mine and I’ll take yours. We’ll get pictures of each of us in the sea at Kiloran.” I believe the idea may have been mine.
And so we did. Mom took a step back, to better frame me in my camera’s viewfinder. Suddenly, she lost her footing, and flew backwards, her arms wind-milling in the air, feet pedaling in the surf, body crashing into the waves like a porpoise. I saw the action as if it were in slow motion. I saw my camera swinging from her neck towards the seawater.
“MY CAMERA!” I cried, diving down to grab it, and her neck, before the next wave could crash in. I clearly had no concern for my mother, who was now thrashing about like a fish in a bathtub.
Once we got her to her feet, I quickly wiped the droplets of spray from my brand new digital camera. It had not gone under. However, one single drop of salt water had invaded the interior through the USB port. “Plug USB cable into PC” was displayed on the screen. I powered my sad camera off, and then on. “Plug USB cable into PC,” it said. Considering I had no PC with me, and no USB cable, I didn’t quite know what to do.
So, we did what all self-respecting women would do. We made lunch, and called work.
It was by this time the start of the workday in Boston. I called an engineer at work. “Please, please, download the manual and see if there is a way to do a hard-reset on the camera,” I appealed. I was told to be patient, to power it off, wait a while, then power it back on again and call back in twenty minutes. Considering my alternatives, which were none, these seemed to be good ideas. However, the powering off and on made little impact on the USB desires of my camera. The phone call twenty minutes later also proved to be of no help.
Well, at least the lunch was good.
Then Mom had an excellent idea. She had brought four media cards with her. So she shared. She shared her media cards and her camera. She would open the little hatch, put her chip in, take her picture. Then she would remove her chip, place it in the plastic case, hand me the camera and I would do the same.
We shared the camera and the chips for the next ten days. We would stop at a view. “Is your chip in or mine? Who goes first?” It was an unusual mother-daughter bonding experience.
It all started at Kiloran Bay.
Diabetic Travel Tips
Closest store is in Scalasaig village, 5 miles away. The store has very limited hours, however there are two restaurants in the village.
Related Links
Corncrake community newsletter
Colonsay community facebook page
