A Family's First Visit to Coll.
Mary Tunnell
It was late in the summer of 1952 that we spent our first holiday on Coll. We had seen an advertisement in the Yorkshire Post – “Caravan for hire, apply Rankin. Isle of Coll.” Dr. Rankin was formerly senior partner in our medical practice in Merston. Yorkshire, and we remembered that some years previously he had left to take up a post on one of the islands of the Inner Hebrides. Thinking a holiday on Coll might make an interesting change, we decided to take a chance and hired the caravan at the Cornaig gate for two weeks, then the only one on the island.
On telephoning Dr. Rankin to arrange dates, he passed on various pieces of information and advice. Firstly, that we should arrange to leave our car at the Argyll garage in Oban as there was no car ferry to the island. The only motorised transport on Coll, apart from farm tractors, were some half dozen cars and the milk lorry. He also suggested that as there were so few visitors to the island. it would be prudent to send a long shopping list to Mr. Sproat, one of the two shopkeepers, well in advance. Finally, he told us to be sure to take waterproofs and Wellington boots! Having driven to Oban and garaged the Car, we made our way eagerly to the pier to find the M/V Lochearn. We found a trim little steamer of not much more that two hundred tons. Was it really big or tough enough to withstand Hebridean storms we wondered? Our fears were allayed when we heard it had been doing the trip to Inner and Outer Isles since the 1930's. We spent a cramped night on board. in what we thought were rather amusingly and quaintly called ‘staterooms' , and very early next morning set sail on the five hour journey to Coll. It was a superb little ship, and we soon realised that what it lacked in size it more than made up for in quality and the service on board was excellent. Beautifully cooked breakfasts were served by waiters in white jackets under the supervision of a genial steward and the silver-ware on the tables gleamed.....
On our arrival off Arinagour, the island ferry-boat came out to meet the Lochearn some distance from the 'middle' pier. This was still many years before the deep-water pier was built. It was skippered by John Alan Cameron although at first sight we supposed that his right-hand man Davy Fotheringham, wearing as he always did what seemed to be an officer's cap, complete with gold braid, must be the man in charge. There was quite a swell running as we scrambled with difficulty and very little dignity into the boat and arranged ourselves as comfortably as we could amongst the boxes of island supplies. Having sailed the short disance to the pier and clambered up slippery steps we finally set foot on Coll with some trepidation. We had no idea what to expect and as we had approached the coast on that grey morning, it appeared to us desolate and uninviting.
We walked through a deserted Arinagour. There was not a soul in sight until we reached the little general-store owned and run by Mr. Sproat and his wife Katie. On introducing ourselves they welcomed us warmly and chatting with them, my husband discovered by chance that he knew Mr. Sproat's uncle, a doctor who lived near our home in Yorkshire. Immediately we felt we were amongst friends.
We hired John Alan, who apart from being ferryman was also the island taxi-driver, to take us up to Comaig and while he packed our luggage and provisions into his old car, our two boys visited Mrs. MacQuarry at the hotel to hire two rickety bicycles. They then asked John Alan the way to Cornaig and were told with a wave of the hand to turn right at the 'Y'. right at the 'T', go through the gate and they would be there - beautifully precise directions, but with no hint of the hard pedalling ahead of them!
As they set off, so did the heavily laden car with the rest of the family. It seemed a long and eventful drive. We had to stop several times when boxes of groceries resting on the mud guards, because there was no room for them inside, appeared to be in danger of falling off. On approaching the summit of Windy Gap. John Alan asked us to disembark as the car might otherwise not make it to the top. However, we eventually arrived triumphantly at the Cornaig gate where the fine old 'Berkely' caravan, sadly destroyed in a gale same years ago, was situated.
Inside, under a dazzling white tablecloth we were amazed to find, on the table, a delicious array of scones and cakes. Everything was homemade, even the butter. The water containers were all filled and the kettle was on the stove. This was all thanks to Mary MacRae who, with her husband lan, at Cornaig Beg, soon became great friends.
So started our first visit to this idyllic island loved by our children, grandchildren and myself ever since.
In the cottage, we have more recently built at Bousd, we have a treasured momento. When Willie Sproat died. Katie gave us the old carved wooden shop sign. We were greatly touched and it now has a place of honour in the cottage. It is a reminder of an old friend and a fine gentleman and of the first of forty wonderful and ever-fascinating holidays on Coll.
A footnote from one of “the children”
My first impression of Coll as the boat drew near to its low grey rocks, on an equally grey morning, was one of bitter disappointment. My only knowledge, at that time, of the physical aspects of Hebridean islands was gleaned from photographs of the magnificent Cuillins.
"Where is the grandeur, and what about the towering peaks?" I asked myself.
But my spirits rose as we bumped and clattered along the stony road towards the East end and they positiviely soared as the sun came up and we topped the summit of Windy Gap.
Confronted, then, by the happy prospect of "home" being a neat and cosy caravan for the next two weeks, washing in the sparkling burn, sand and sea on the door-step, not to mention rabbits galore. I ran and danced barefoot, amongst the myriads of flowers with a joie de vivre that I still sometimes experience on Coll forty years later.
Susan (Tunnell) Checker.
