Today would be unlike any other day of the trip so far, and it began with us waking up on Islay for the last time. We were away to another island, the third and final one of the journey – Jura, the island of solitude, deer, and slightly naughty hills.
Taking the ferry from Port Askaig to Jura is an adventure in itself. I thought the ferry from Arran to Kintyre was small, but I hadn’t seen the “Eilean Dhiura” yet. The tiny boat looks like a slightly more cheerful version of the beach landing craft from the beginning of Saving Private Ryan, and offers about the same chance of a cooked breakfast or gift shop (ie. none), but handles the rapid waters of the Islay Sound just fine. It can carry just a handful of vehicles, so pray there’s no grain lorry waiting in the queue ahead of you when you show up or you’ll be waiting for the next one.
There’s only one settlement of any size on Jura, the village at Craighouse, and it’s about a 15 minute drive from the ferry landing. You’re almost guaranteed to see your first deer before the whitewashed buildings of the hotel and distillery come into view. The journey from the ferry is mostly wild heathland, but at the time of our visit a golf course was under construction close to the entrance to the village. Even if it’s finished by now, I wouldn’t get your hopes up for a quick round. Apparently it’s the private playground of an Australian tycoon. What’s deer for “fore”?
