Time and Weather

Struck me this morning what a huge difference weather makes to time. Not time as such, unless I start pretending I know enough about relativity to explain how to gain a tiny fraction of a second by hitching a lift on a spacecraft. No, during the winter - rain, cold, dark - I have plenty of apparent spare time. I consider what I ought to do, and then, I procrastinate by thinking of things I'd like to do.

Summer, with good weather of course, presents the opposite problem. Loads of things I could do. So I procrastinate by thinking of the things I ought to do and then have less time to do all the things I want to do.

Anyway, spent a few great, if tiring, days on Jura helping to marshal the Scottish Islands Peaks race. Great place to take a few photographs but not necessarily if you have to stay up all night waiting for yachts and runners to arrive. That was last week and since then there seems to have been too many things to do - see reasons above.  The journey to Jura is long - four hour drive, hang about, two hour ferry, hang about, ten minute ferry, and 20 minute drive to Craighouse - but it is worth it. Typical west coast weather on the way, windy, sunny and wet, all at the same time.

Not too warm but, thirty yards from the tent, I found some great mountains to photograph on the beach.

Still within the forty metre circle, and with dusk making it easier to soften the water, I found the bluebells.

 As we had arrived early for the race we had time for a leisurely meal and a pint in the Jura hotel opposite the distillery. Got chatting to a guy who was up from Edinburgh to do some work at the distillery. Turned out his firm was able to print on almost anything - toast is a particularly difficult surface. Before they assembled the cart he was able to print the advertising blurb for the tasty Prophecy. [Jura whiskies recommended.]

Being awake for what seems like most of the weekend makes it easier to get a sunset, with the Paps of Jura,  and a sunrise, over Craighouse bay - a few hours apart.

Jura is hotching with wildlife, most of which is not too bothered about humans watching. I'd been looking forward to trying to capture an otter, as last year I'd watched one for fifteen minutes while it searched for food within sixty yards of the community hall kitchen window - which made a great, comfortable vantage point. I'd hurried to the window when we arrived to have a look, only to see . . . a brand new car park. Oh, well.

These three(?) swans and their cygnets which happily munched, no matter how many camera clicks, made up for the car park annoyance a little. 

We spent hours staring out over the bay watching for yachts creeping up on us. Most of the time this little boat was bobbing about at the jetty.

 Another evening meal at the hotel let me nip outside to catch the last few remaining yachts in the race and, of course, a famous west coast palm tree.

No pedalling, due to the recent loss of a little more knee cartilage.