Christie Boy
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MacBrayne's Lochboisdale
...The Staff Manager was now in a quandary ... and, in sheer pique, offered us Lochboisdale which was considered the most isolated and least attractive of all the ports. Much to his surprise we accepted. The present manager had been denied holidays until I had come along the previous year. He was leaving the Company and I knew what awaited us there. In fact Rena and I enjoyed a very happy year, meeting a lot of nice people and enjoying long hours of sunshine on beautiful sandy beaches which stretched for miles. With nobody in sight, we played golf on the Machar golf course, with red balls during the day, when the daisies were open, and white balls in the evenings. The steamers only called during the evenings, except for the odd cargo ship which called once a week.
Bridge parties were regular and, with no-one in a hurry to go to work in the morning, there were plenty of folk to be seen wending their way home with the rising sun. Major MacKenzie, the worthy owner of Lochboisdale Hotel, who had retired from a police career in Canada, was the instigator of many parties and in one instance brought a bridge team from Aberdeen to engage a local team and play continued throughout the weekend. The island was a happy hunting ground for fishers, who had the choice of as many lochs as there were days in the year. Shooting was also popular and in season the choice was wide and variable. Many pleasant afternoons were spent in one of the many quiet corners of the island, and the shores of Loch Skipport were particularly attractive as we spent our time lying in the sun and "whistling" to the seals.
On our arrival in Lochboisdale, we had been housed in the Hotel until such time as other accommodation became available. It was hoped that some imported Swedish houses, which were being constructed at the time, might be made available for let when completed. Meantime we were able to find space in a croft house, which we shared with two holidaying families from Edinburgh, and much of our time was spent in their company which proved great fun ... We soon settled to home life and quickly established our mode of entertainment - bridge nights, ceilidhs, and just getting on with bedside carpet knitting. Kenneth Drive occupied high ground overlooking the pier and the Loch's length out to the island, and on a clear day to the outline of Rhum and Canna in the far distance.
We became members of the Church of Scotland at Daliburgh and made many friends. George Wilson, the owner of a local garage, spent much of his spare time in our company and was instrumental in introducing us to a lot of the more inaccessible corners of the island and many memorable picnics were made possible by his kindness. Later in the year, when the gale season was with us, it was quite usual to open the back door of the house and sample the salt spume, which had been carried by the wind from the west side some three or four miles away.
On one occasion, we were watching a ship trying to enter the Loch from the open sea and I called Rena to come and watch and, deciding to open the door to get a better view, the locked back door promptly burst open with a force strong enough to bend the lock-bar. A great struggle developed to jam the door before the roof lifted off. These were incidents of the wilder days and many stories survived of past years, such as the storm which had lifted Johnnie Clark's hen house and which was last seen in the air disappearing down the Loch. Most of the hen houses were old upturned boats and, no doubt, the disappearance of Johnnie Clark's could have been put down to the "call of the sea"...
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