The road from Glaic to Sórasdal quaintly curls through rock and heather for some two miles. How often must Johnny Glaic have travelled those peaceful winding ways to and from the Bousd letter box, by foot or bicycle, since he made the journey to become a resident of Sórasdal more than thirty years ago.

He left one thatch-roofed house for another - at the time, the last two of their kind on the island. Today, Johnny's house in Sórasdal remains Coll's only such relic and, together with its idyllic setting, enchants countless visitors. A photographer's paradise.

His days as the "East End" cycling postman now behind him, Johnny brought an extra pair of hands to the running of the Sórasdal croft. Welcome help indeed to the ageing MacKinnon brothers, Neil and the twins, Archie and Hector. The homely thatch sheltered them all and required their constant care.

It was, of course, the times of real horse power and Johnny fondly recalls working with those gentle, ever willing companions, and seeing, not all that long ago, a dozen or more hay stacks close to where now stands Mrs Large's modem house. Such attractive features of the past and sadly, now seen so seldom.

Coming ashore close by, the new electricity supply with its accompanying unsightly poles provide a stark contrast to those earlier times of paraffin lamps and the fireside cooking range - the latter, happily still intact in Johnny's home. Remarkable indeed, just how recent it is that the East End saw the arrival of electricity and, not long before that, the telephone.

To this day, the powerful influence of the sea at Sórasdal is as much a dominant feature of Johnny Maclnnes' life as when he first came to live there and spent long hours afloat, fishing at all times of the year. Such energetic activities he now confines to gentle summer days (with luck) but his eyes never stray for long from the endlessly changing, fascinating world at his front door. His busy binoculars always within reach; how little escapes his keen eye and ear and how nuch to marvel at in those shifting seas.

The responsibility of reporting any failure of the lighthouse has, for long, fallen on the inhabitants of Sórasdal. Happily, an Infrequent occurrence. At one time the lighthouse duties of local folk went even further and for at least one, Neil MacDougall (formerly of Eilleraig and a postman with pony and trap) included regular cleaning of the glass.

From his younger days at Glaic, where Bousd Schoolhouse and its Mrs Livingston were a mere two minutes fast running from home, Johnny remembers at least six occupied houses at Sórasdal - all thatched and a wee shop run by the MacDougalls at their house, close to the Crawford's restored cottage.

There were the Macfarlanes, Archie Campbell and his wife and the family of Maclean known as "the Dearies". A relation of "the Dearies" was Alastair Maclean, a man with a fondness for a good yarn and an excellent eye with a gun. One day, having run out of lead shot he resorted, instead, to nails from his boots and pinned a hare by the ear to a gate post.

And Johnny also remembers Neil Macfarlane's father was forced to abandon his fishing lines off the Cairns of Coll during the war as a destroyer threatened to run them down in the dark.

Indeed, Sórasdal is not always peace and calm. Johnny's accounts of streams of visitors arriving by horse and cart at the time of the Glasgow Fair suggest a picture of crowded beaches, noise and fun. Treasured memories too, no doubt, of happy times and of Sórasdal as a charming, lively community.

Largely abandoned it may now be, but its magical moods of changing light and colours, of sound and smell will surely be for always.