A Findhorn Birthday

Thanks to all of you who sent me such sweet cards and email messages. I arrived at the B&B and found my home box waiting that I sent to myself and a muckle (large) stack of cards from home. I would have to say I felt homesick for the first time hearing from you. But that’s probably a good thing as last week I was wondering how I could ever leave Scotland.

So after the best nights sleep in quite awhile I took a 10 minute walk along the bay to the Findhorn Community where I had signed up as a visitor in exchange for 3 hours of kitchen duty. The community was begun in the early 60’s I believe and gained noteriety for the huge veggies they grew in sand. The original gardeners, Peter and Eileen Caddy attributed their success to divine guidance (they used a hell of alot of compost also). A side note here,the computer I am useing is in terrible condition, like someone has spilled coffee down the keyboard so the keys all stick and have to be pounded like a manual typewriter. So I am going to stop fixing typos.I guess I just insultedthe computer faires because now the return key won’t work.

80 people were expected for lucnh and so our crew of 5 from Italy, Germany, England, Belguim and me, chopped and washed veggies and pots for three hours. We listened to American music, quite loud, and various people came in; to hug the woman in charge, Roseann, who is Italian but clearly has been here for awhile. She hugged me once so I gota hug on my birthday. Lunch was quite fantastic and just what I needed. Carrot/ginger soup, huge salad, roastedveggies, rice, bread, peas, corn. Yumm.

At 2 I paid £2 for a tour of the grounds, which was led by an American hippie who showed up in the late 70’s and stayed. 120 people are part of the offical community, who live here and either work in the garden, kitchen, housekeeping, finances or education/marketing. Probably another 200 are indpendent but live on the land here intheir own home and make a conrtriution in some way, have a pottery studio, provide heath care, run the cafe, etc. There are workshops, music and events ;happeing all the timeand anyone,me, is welcome to attend. Tomorow their is a ceildh (traditional Scottish party) and at the same time across the road a song/meditation,chant for peace int the mideast. I think i;’ll go to the chant and then theparty!

Speaking of chants our tour today ended in the sancutary, a round building in the woods, with the 20 or so of us sitting in a circle. OUr guide said in clsing that people gather here to chant at 8 every morning. He asked if there were any questions so I said “Shall I lead a short chant now since we are gathered here?” He said yes; please and; ;other people nodded so I sang one round of The earth, the air, the fire the water, and everyone joined right in. It was my happy birthday song.

Findhorn reminds me a lot of Breitenbush Community, both in the setting, relationships, living options and natural setting. Findhorn is on the bay created by the Findhorn River and is just off the North Sea, about 30 miles east of Inverness, near Forres, for those of you with maps. There are alot of amazingly artistic structures and rock work here that I will come back to take photos and sketch. We were all sitting in a grassy area on flat rock ledges during the tour when I noticed some nasturiums right behind me so I picked one to eat. There was a huge bumbee inside one of the; blossoms so I put my hand where it wouuld back out and so  it crawled on myt hand and sat in my palm cleaning its legs and walking around. The kids on the tour were amazed, as I was too. When we left I had to coax it onto a leaf to leave my hand. The magic of Findhorn.

The perons at the B&B, Marlene, is a msassge therapist, and has aroom in her house for massage. It’s painted the smae color as mine and some of the books on her shelves are the same as ;mine too. She is very sweet and had a birthday card for me herself. I got more mail than she did the past week! So tomorrow I have a massage fromher, just across the hall, and she has a bathtub, my own bathroom, well, its quite perfect.

Tonight is when LiAnna is supposed to call me at 10pm from Australia ;where it will be her birtdhay. There isn’t enought signal int he house so I will go out to the bay and watch the sunset and the kids throwing rocks and sailboats blowing by and wait for my girl to call me. I know she is a woman, but she’ll always be my girl. OK will now I am feeling so sentimental that I am crying so will change the subject.

I met some yuoung people for a change here today, a couple from Canada and a young man from England stayed in the sanctuary for awhile as I did so we chatted about life, their future, and Scotland. They are wwoofing this summer. That is, willing workers on organic farms, who spend a week to a mointh living on a farm and weeding, hoeing harvesting and learning from the farmers. They were all enthusiatic about their experiences and after Findhorn were heading to another place. Another young woman is from NY, on a holiday by herself for the first time. We chatted about what thats like and what she is hoping for in life, to be part of acommunity and play music. But she needs her own privacy too so was asking alot of questions of oiur guide about how people get along, or get a dwelling, or find work.

I’ll be heading back to the B&B in a few minutes and then back here again tomorrow and maybe I’ll explore the town nearby on Monday. I don’t have an exact plan after that, just places I ;want to still go so need to figure out the hows and whens. Irene and her friend Sheena are going to a music festival in Beauly, just north of Inverness next weekend so I hope to meet them there. I’ve hardly heard any music but will get a lot when I am back in Edinburra near the end of my trip. Love from a Findhorn fairy, Ellie

Neil Miller Gunn

Neil Gunn was a prolific writer and poet who was born in Dunbeath between Latheron and Helmsdale in 1898. His mother Jessie Miller, was the sister of Elizabeth Miller, Nancy and Lorna’s Mum whose grave is just across the road from Lorna at the Clan Gunn Heritage Center. Neil wrote about the Highlands and the people, incorportating his current state of mind into the characters actions and words. I would say from what I’ve read that he was quite dismayed by war and very upset about not just the killing and bloodshed but the effect fighting in a war had on people close to him. Highland River is the first book of his that I read several years ago and always wondered which river he was describing, there are several that come down from the hills north of Helmsdale but the Dunbeath Waters is where he lived so that seemed logical. Yesterday i went to the Dunbeath Museum and then walked several miles up the Dunbeath River where they have signs and a map that tells the places metioned in Highland River. It was quite thrilling to be there and its a beautiful walk along the meadows and pastures.

OK so while I was still home I was corresponding with a George Gunn (same name as my brother) who lives in Thurso and who is a poet and playwrite. George knows about my writing project and asked if I’d read Butcher’s Broom by Neil Gunn. I ordered it from Amazon and a few chapters into the story I realized that he had written about the very same time period, place, events and people that I am writing about. It is a billiant novel and nothing I could imitate even if I wanted to, which of course I don’t. Still I’ve felt some hesitation since then about what his family might think if I am published and successful.

SO, when I got to Orkney and they passed out the list of people who would be attending the Clan Gunn Gathering, there was Neil’s nephew’s name, Dairmid Gunn. Dairmid didn’t go to Orkney but showed up later for the Highland Games last Saturday. I asked one of the folks to point him out to me and then I gathered my courage and introduced myself and told him about my book. He was very supportive and interested and thought some of my ideas are “clever”, what a compliment! He told me that if Neil were alive he would be very pleased indeed that someone, especially a Gunn, cared enough about what had happened during the Clearances to go to the trouble to do the research and write a book about it. It was all I could do not to bawl on the spot. Instead I got out my hanky and wiped my eyes while he looked away. So then it occured to me how cool it would be to use quotes from Butcher’s Broom to start off each of my chapters. So I asked Dairmid what he would think about that and how I would get permission. He thought it was a lovely idea and as long as it wasn’t long passages he would give me permission himself! Can you believe it?

So Dairmid has already sent me an email from his home in Edinburgh saying how lovely it was to meet me and to be sure and call him when I return to the city if I need anything at all. When I’m home and further along with my story I’ll choose some quotes, email them to him, he’ll make sure the publisher knows he has given permission and then he’ll send me a written permission.

I am halfway though my time here now which seems totally impossible. I’ve already done so much and had more good things happen that I even hoped. I’ve done quite a few sketches in my wee journal and have given away the first scarf I knitted to Charlotte, the 15 year old daughter of Sara and John Gunn who organized the Clan Gathering. She loved the colorful sea blue and turquoise colors as that is what she always wears and had admired the scarf when I was knitting and then when I wore it. Life is full. Much Love from the Highlands, Ellie

Connections

I’ve left the northern corner of Scotland now, its Tuesday, August 1st. I’m back at my home base in Helmsdale and soon will have my ususal soup and salad at the Timespan cafe and then this afternoon the archivist Jackie will drive me out to Kildonan to show me the old longhouse locations still visible. Glad you all enjoyed the midges story, they’ll no doubt welcome me back as its raining again, but at least we’ll have an auto to escape to.

I don’t remember what I wrote about visiting my cousin Lorna the first time but it didn’t go well lets just say. In her defense she is 86, works full time in the post office and has been taking care of her younger sister Nancy, 83, who had a fall  months ago. They knew I was coming to see them but Lorna only said, “Well, maybe we’ll be here” . When I arrived with the Clan Gunn tour it was a less than warm greeting and so I only stayed a wee bit but said i would be back the following weekend. “Well, maybe we’ll be here” was the reply again although I think its safe to say they never go anywhere. Perhaps its just their standard reply to everyone. You all know how sensitive I am and how much I was looking forward to seeing both of them. So I sent Lorna a card with a pretty robin on the front and said that I had come 6,000 miles to see them and really needed to feel welcome. If it was too much to have company with all their work to do I would understand that and not keep coming by. I mentioned the love I have for both of them and hoped to see them the following Sunday.

So it was with a bit of trepidtion that I got off the coach right in front of their door. I knocked and was greetied cheerfully by both of them and invited right off for tea. As I had all my gear I said I’d get settled up the road at the B&B and come back when it was convenient. So we settled for 4pm and when I went back I stayed for 2 hours. I went back several other times and had lunch, did my laundry and pegged it to dry, and even watched Lorna’s favorite quiz show on the telley. I said my “ta-ta”’s at noon today when my coach arrived and tried not to cry til the bus pulled away. Didn’t quite work but at least I was in a rush at the end and so couldn’t dwell on never seeing them again. Nancy handed me a birthday card from them both as I left and some yougurt and fruit for my lunch. I promised to send them a card from further along in my trip and set off for the south.

The Midges of Kildonan

This morning I caught the train to the inland valley of the Helmsdale River where Kildonan Burn (creek) joins the river. It is the setting for my book that I have imagined now for a couple of years and seen on postcards since I arrived. It’s taken me awhile to get there since I’ve been busy every day. I was the only person to get off the train and there really isn’t a station, just a covered area to wait in the rain. I was so happy to be there FINALLY and so cheerfully walked along a completely desserted road watching for old stone relics of a place where people lived 200 years ago. An old stone bridge curved over the river just above some large red sandstone outcropping that created short falls and while water. Or I should say brown water. At first I thought some farmer was pouring manure right in the river it was so brown. Then I realized the water all flows through peat channels along the creek beds and the color is from the peat. Felt better about that but I can’t say I would want to drink it. Still, it was a beautiful scene. I went further down the road, thinking there was no one about at all when I came to a wooded area and around the corner a fancy metal padlocked gate. To my astonishment there was a formal garden with old stone planters full of annual flowers. Above the planters were terrances of more flowers and shrubs and at the top of the hill a really fancy house. A large house looking like the late 1880’s style with more gardens on the side. As I was gawking through a gate around front a chap with a wheelbarrow arrived. I say haloo, he returned the greeting and I opened the gate for him. He was headed across the road and over the river on a pedestrian/wheelbarrow bridge to a greenhouse on the other side. Turned out to be the full time gardener for the Clay family who owns the house. He pointed out places I could easily get to and mentioned there was a charity garden tour on Sunday afternoon that was open to the public. He went on his way across the bridge and I found a moss covered comfy spot on an old wall along the hillside with a view of the river.

IT WAS MY MOMENT! I was right where I wanted to be so I whipped out my notebook and wrote for half an hour describing the scene in front of me and some fiction for my story. I couldn’t have been happier. I’d brought some lunch so ate some fruit and drank some juice and broke out the roasted nuts. And then I felt a few raindrops. Well, that’s OK I thought, I brought plenty of warm clothes and my raincoat. So I put everything on, it was cooling off quite a bit also, and then got up to walk about in rain. After about 30 minutes of that I was getting wet so decided to take shelter in the wee covered area by the railroad tracks. It was still an hour til the train was due to take me back so I figured I could get out my colored pencils, etc. and have a good time.

Midges are teensy tiny little flying bugs that bite. Just ask Mark about them. They are famous in Scotland and because of the dry weather I’d only seen a few of them. They found me in the shelter and sent out signals to every other midge in the Highlands and soon I had to abandon the shelter. They are so tiny and don’t whine like mosquitos so you don’t even know you are being bitten until its too late. I walked back to the bridge, they followed me, or was it new ones just arrived to taste the tasty American? I fanned myself with my train schedule which helped a bit. I was completely covered at this point as it was still raining so they just dived for my face. Agggghh! At this point I’m wondering why people live in Scotland at all. And hoping my train will be on time, and will stop for me. I’d heard on the way to Kildonan that if the train is very late they just don’t stop. Well, eventually the train arrived and I staggered on-really. There was a seat alone and I collapsed into it and took off most of my layers just as the food cart came around so I celebrated being away from the midges with an orange juice and a shortbread.

I suspect I am writing more blogs than most of you have time to read. But don’t feel guilty if you need to skip over to the exciting parts! I am mostly writing when I am not going somewhere as I lost my paperback in Orkney and have vowed not to buy another since I carelessly put in down somewhere. I left my best jacket from Mes Amie in the library yesterday. I didn’t realize I was without it for hours and then couldn’t imagine where it was. I happened to be in the shop where I am today using Lorna’s computer. I told her I lost my jacket and when I said I’d been at the library, which was closed, she called a friend to ask the librarians last name, then called her at home and asked if I’d left my jacket. She said I had and was nice enough to meet me at the library 10 minutes later so I could have it before I went to Kildonan this morning. So, you librarians who are reading this, that’s the standard in Helmsdale, Scotland for customer service. She also let me check out a book for a week without a card. That was today when I went back to check my email. I’ll try to keep track of it. Not a thriller or romance but a record of the life of the people in this area in the early 1800’s.

In case some of you wonder about my trip to the Ring of Brodgar, it didn’t happen. I was waiting at the city bus station, a sketchy spot in town as it was, when all the folks waiting, a motley crew, got on a bus and it pulled away. My number 98a haddn’t shown up even though it was time, well past time. I found an office and asked the young woman behind the counter who pointed out on the schedule that the 98a times were in italic print which meant you took the first bus out to the next town and then caught the 98a there. By then it was 3pm and there would be no bus back if I managed to get out there. Since I swore to several people that I would not hitchhike in Scotland I gave up and went to a museum and had a coffee instead.

Well the shop is about to close. I have been doing well with my gear etc. and have sent home two packages with books and warm clothes that I won’t need, we hope. I’m moving to a new B&B, took my big pack up there this morning and will head there now to collapse and take a shower. There’s a concert tonight at the Timespan museum if I can manage to go out again. Sorry if I am repeating anything. I don’t have time to see what I’ve already written. Love to you all, Ellie

Helmsdale

After an interesting train ride talking with some local folks, I arrived in Helmsdale about 8pm. There is no station, just a waiting room to keep out of the rain so I ducked in there to reassemble my walking pack and then went up the stairs, over the tracks and down the other side. I’d seen the hostel location on the internet map so knew about where it was. The hostel owner, Irene , moved north in January and bought this hostel in a desperate state of disrepair. Her story is a bit like Andrea’s one thing after another, but finally she has felt like it is finished enought to accept travelers. So I am her first official guest. Since she hasn’t advertised I have the whole womens side to myself. It could sleep seven so I have a bed to sleep in against the wall and the one next to me to sort and resort my stuff. Irene’s sister was just in Seattle and the Oregon coast and has been telling Irene she HAS to go see it for herself. So of course I’ve invited her to visit us. Who knows if she ever will but it would be a lot of fun to introduce her to everyone. She loves my west coast American accent and I love her Scottish one. The first day I asked her to repeat words quite often but I’m getting the hang of it. Just round the vowels and drop half the consanants.

Today I walked for hours along the Helmsdale River and then crossed over the steps into a sheep pasture and did some sketching and writing. There were no sheep nearby but plenty of sign of them, which I did my best to avoid. I’ve been to the local museum twice now and yesterday met Jackie, the very enthusiastic archivist. We chatted for a bit and then she had people waiting for her so she said to come back and she’d let me poke about in their private documents. Yeah! She is keen on my writing project and feels that there should be archeological diggings going on up the river in Kildonan while the artifacts are fresh, only 200 years old. But most money goes for 2,000 year old stuff. When I come back to Helmsdale next week I plan to take a workshop she is offering on a Highland myth that is well known here that I will be able to include easily in my story.

The musuem is also hosting a drumming workshop and then drum and sax concert. Darn, I forgot to pack my drum. So far things have been going well with what I did take and I have no regrets. It is quite easy to wash out clothes and after all I’m not working in the garden and gettin’ dirty.

I’m in a wee shop right now, the only internet access in Helmsdale. Its a £ for one hour, about 2 dollars so that is a good price. I’m surrounded by knick-knacks and the owners husband just carried in a small wooden dresser, nagging the whoe time about there not being room to move, much less add another piece of furniture. I joined in the teasing and laughing which is very natural to do here.

I’m very happy to be here and feeling good about everything. People like to guess my accent and I’m trying to sound more Scottish so today someone asked if I’m from Canada. That’s closer, aye? (eye). Maybe next post I will try to write as folks speak but my time is aboot uop. Tomorow Irene will give me a ride to Latheron where my cousin Lorna lives. Nancy is with her too so I will see them both. Much love to you all, thanks for the comments…they please me immensley. Love, Ellie