Sea Change in Campaign Plans

I’d planned to take the ferry to Campbeltown, do some leafleting and talk to folk, take the bus up to Tarbert, stay overnight, sail over to Portavadie, ferry back to Tarbert, bus down to Campbeltown and more leafleting, up and down from Portavadie again then a final day in Campbeltown before taking the ferry back to Ardrossan.

The plans o’ mice and men!

The wheels came off that plan even before the ones on the Twingo started turning! There’s now no ferry to Campbeltown! I couldn’t believe it! Then I consulted bus timetables and worked out that, if I spent around £50, I could manage to get 4 hours in Campbeltown. Hmmm…

So it was once more over the Rest and Be Thankful, stopping in lovely Arrochar and again in fairytale Inveraray. I reached Tarbert, very glad to be back onboard my cosy wee junk-rigged yatch and the moon rising above the castle on the hill was a beautiful sight.

Moon over Tarbert Harbour

I’d dutifully posted all my planned drives on the car pool website but, apart from a nice message from a young lady giving up her idea of a day trip from Edinburgh to Kilmartin, to see the stones, there was no joy. I do think sharing our resources is a good idea. Yes, there are a lot of unhelpful buzz words used supposedly for ecological reasons (usually instead only benefiting certain big businesses) but the idea of caring and sharing didn’t originate with the Co-op!

Next morning bright and early I motor-sailed straight (ish) over Loch Fyne and took the ferry back after breakfast. It’s such a pleasure to drive down the coast of Kintyre and I was sorely tempted to walk the length of Westport Beach to Machrihanish but instead I turned left and started leafleting from where the Kilchenzie Burn crosses the A83.

Parking in Campbeltown my real wish was to wander round bookshops and charity shops in search of a good local book and have a coffee in one of the many friendly cafés—and eventually I did exactly that, picking up Kinloch Tales from a bookshop on Cross Street which joined Tales From Barra that I’d bought in Balloch, for my sister who was the district nurse on that lovely island some years ago.

But first I wanted to talk with people. I explained to a young carer who I was and asked to leave campaign cards and party leaflets for the residents in the carehome where he works. I feel it’s the duty of candidates to at least try to inform voters of who they are and what they stand for, otherwise folk are left clueless in the voting booth—with no time to look up a list of unfamiliar names—on polling day! He kindly accepted and I added that other candidates (no-one seems to know if there are any) would probably do the same.

I also left them in St John’s Masonic Lodge at the corner of Kirk Street and leafleted the chapel house of St Kieran’s Catholic Church, the rectory of the Episcopal Church of St Kiaran (aided by a helpful young man who saw me struggling to find the latch on the gate) the Salvation Army, and I attempted to leaflet the Kirk but couldn’t find a letterbox. Apologies to all religious establishments that I couldn’t find with my battery dying on my phone. I did leave a bunch, thanks to the kindness of the staff at the South Kintyre Development Trust who were having a lot of fun with their clients playing loud music loud!

After a reviving coffee under an awning, almost completely protecting me from the rain—and I much prefer sitting outside and seeing all the life on the street—I drove south. My plan was to reach the Mull of Kintyre (here I must confess my ignorance, I’d thought till now that this name referred to the entire length of Kintyre) but knowing I needed to catch the 6pm ferry from Tarbert I had to watch my time.

Looking north over Campbeltown Loch to the headland above Kildalloig Bay and Island Davaar and back to the harbour

So I only made it as far as the viewpoint opposite Island Davaar, then turned and did a bit of leafleting in Glenramskill and along the Kilkerran Road. What a beautiful view they have there—but that’s true of this lovely ward in general. I drove off…

…parked and ran to catch the last ferry only to find that, due to adverse weather, it was cancelled!

CalMac electronic board announcing cancellation

‘Don’t panic’, I thought, like old Jonesie in Dad’s Army, I’ll get some dinner and decide what to do. The problem with that plan was that, after Bombay Potatoes, Mushroom Curry and Pilau Rice washed down with Apple & Mango J20, I was feeling so good that I thought ‘I’ll just drive!’

That all seemed fine, despite the rain, until north of Clachan, and by the time I’d taken the turn-off down to the Cowal Peninsula, I was sorely regretting not having booked into a hostel. Past Strachur, I kept myself alert (the drive rapidly turning into Tam O’ Shanter’s ride, with the wind howling on all sides, and mist coming down into Tighnabruaich) by planning out loud the plot of my next novel—for young adults about a Nigerian boy detective living in Glasgow.

Home from home at last, too tired to go back out and turn the gas on (the next morning I found out the bottle needed changed) I collapsed into my bunk. It would be another long drive home, this time taking the ferries via Bute, and on Monday, after close of nominations at 4pm (2 hours away as I write this) it would be known, by the Council if not by me, whether or not my nomination is uncontested.

Looking southwest from Gourock to Bute

(Photos & videos copyright the author may be used—unconnected to commerce and without transformation—with a link to this blogpost)

Promoted by Cath Evans of Freedom Alliance, 83 Ducie Street M1 2JQ

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