Location: Embo & Glasgow on the way up
Who’s there?: Ally n Jenny n Tom n Katy
When?: 15th-21st July 2024
Ah, ye cannae beat the summer holidays! And ye cannae beat a wee trip up to the Grant clan spiritual HQ in Embo, Sutherland! Back in the day, it was the location of every single three-week summer holiday from the age of zero up to 17, alongside my mum, dad and sister. Seems like a past life, but Embo endures! And so does my Auntie Jessie and her son Neil & his two kids, who we’ll be seeing there during our break – being the only remaining members of what we regard as Grant family. Great excite!
Figure 1: 17th Century photo of me (centre) & cousin Andrew (left) & Neil (Right) in Embo
Located in the Northeast coastal part of Sutherland, it’s about 60 miles north of Inversneckie and four miles north of Dornoch – where Guy Ritchie and Madonna famously (and quietly) got married in the 90s.. Most superbio beautiful part of the world, up there with Ibrox and Sydney. Famous for fush, golf, sandy beaches, stunning countryside and a bit of peace n quiet. The ultimate destination and always feels like home, being my dad’s village from birth.
Figure 2: How gorgeous is that?! Embo beach, sun sea, hills, grassy bits & sand.
Logistically, Tomster G and I are driving up via an overnight stay in Glasgow, whilst Jenny and Katy are flying – ooooh fancy schmanzy to Inverness and car hiring from there. Posh or wot?!
Figure 3: High stylage travelling to Embo
In traditional fashion, Tom insists I make one of my most famous packed lunches for a long journey. All my kids love them and I’m the master of making it last for at least 4 days. So, with everything else prepared and packed, I produce the most fantastic lunch for Tom and I. As usual, I have whipped up hunners of fresh rolls, delicately squashed down with both fists for optimum lunch box packing, a selection of tasty yet healthy treats, including crusps, and chocolate bars, and for those of a less healthy inclined nature, some token bananas and apples. All to be washed down with bottles of freshly filled bottles of Kent water and cans of ginger, yet to be procured.
Figure 4: Pulled out all the stops this time. What a lunch that is! Hunners o’ crusps & everything
This trip is not all about food, you know. So, when we arrive in Glasgow, Tom and I decide to have a Spoons, to contrast with the high protein fayre we’ve enjoyed on the way up. I have a local delicacy, called ‘ramen soup wi bits o’ chicken in it’ and Tom has a ‘durty big burger’. It’s made with unwashed hands and comes with chups and things. We wash this down with a tasty little ditty called ‘Tennents Lager’. It comes in pints and yellow cans and is brewed in Glasgow. NOTE: its can throwing velocity is lower than a bottle of Grolsch, but can still do some damage if you find yourself participating in a protest march or other form of hooliganism.
Figure 5: Spoons dinner in Glasgow with our old friend, Tennents Lager
Next morning, Tom and I are up bright and early, having had a refreshing sleep at the Premier Inn, Milngavie. Top tip travelers – it’s a decent spot outside Glasgow, away from the city noise. Generally, less expensive and easy 20 mins train direct into town. Nice countryside and walks nearby. We take ourselves to one of our faves, Drumclog Car Park.
Figure 6: The awesome Drumclog Car Park, somewhere in the Trossachs, sort of.
Unfortunately, I’m not able to run around the scenic reservoir, as my heel is goosed yet again. Still, there’s plenty of time until the Glasgow half marathon in October. The wee man does take off though, and with a hint of jealously, I watch him jogging on round the circuit in the early morning greyness soon to be light. Only a year ago I joined him doing the same. Sigh.
Figure 7: No running for me, just some excellent photography at the world’s best car park
We depart our lodgings and meander our way up the scenic windy west coast towards Inverness. Loch Lomond to our right is long and as resplendent as ever. Before long we’re both Hank Marvin, despite having a massive buffet hot and cold breakfast. Not finding anywhere decent to stop, we just switch the engine off in the middle of the road and open our hamper. It’s all in the planning – the delicious lunch I prepared 2 days ago has preserved itself as well as one might expect having shifted 500 miles in my boot – doc martin’s, I think. The hula hoops are a delight, succulent and crispy with a hint of gently fried beef. The noisy motorists passing us, hooted and swore loudly at us in sheer envy. We waved back at them with our fingers and laughed, munching our hoops – this is the life!
Figure 8: Roadkill Highland stylee. Those hoops got muuuuurdurrrred
Meanwhile, katy and Jenny have arrived in Inversneckie. They seem to be settling in well, having cake and coffee. I decide not to send them a piccy of Tom and I having our al fresco lunch – they’d only get jealous.
Figure 9: Katy roughing it in a slum café somewhere. Look at the state of those plants.
Ah, there’s nothing like the road into Embo. There is only one and it’s a beaut. It’s a straight down hill road, stretching a good 500m from the Dornoch crossroads. Either side of you is heathery gorse bushy things with flowery bits, but best is the sight of the sea on the horizon – and you’re heading straight for it. Beautiful. There’s even a song about it. Can’t remember what it’s called. Hmm, Something like ‘The road to Embo’, by J R Mackay. We quickly pass the sign, reminding us of Embo’s award winning beach and its twinning with Kaunakakai in Hawaii. Ah, what a place. Take me hame mammy.
Figure 10: The Road tae Embo. Excitement levels are stratospheric at this point
Alas, the houses my family used to own in Embo have shamefully fallen into manipulative hands, despite my parents’ wills and wishes. A tale of greed, bitterness and entitlement. Nevertheless, we move on, and we have a fantastic cottage rental for our few days, with glorious views over the back of Embo towards the hills in Golspie, with Ben Bhraggie and the somewhat contentious Duke of Sutherland statue atop.
Figure 11: A view that only the blue sea of Ibrox comes anywhere near competing with
Being the forward-thinking father and husband of the house, I do not shirk any responsibility and am well prepared for our grocery needs for our first night stay. I knew there would be no time to visit a supermarket. It takes me some time to offload everything from the car, but after a couple of hours of strenuous effort, I’m pleased I have the fridge fully stocked for the girls’ arrival.
Figure 12: Finally unpacked all the shopping and filled the fridge for Katy & Jenny’s arrival
Without wasting any time, Tom and I head down to the beach early next morning, when there’s usually no-one there at all, apart from the odd hungover seagull or lug worm returning from a night out on the rocks. I do a 5Km ‘run’-walk whilst he covers the same distance smooth and fast. I make double sure I don’t trip over the bump in the path that leads down to the shoreline between the houses in Back Street. I’m still sporting the cuts from last year’s fall!
Figure 13: Zoom in to check this all out. Immense. A better run you will not have.
The beach is as gorgeous as ever and is the best place for running in the whole wide world. Who needs Sydney! My slow run-walk makes me a bit annoyed about my heel – it’s a recurring pain in the bum.
Figure 14: Jen & Tom on the beach in full Scottish sunbathing gear
I look out to sea for inspiration, and wonder what Captain Birdseye would do. Can’t have been easy inventing fush fingers. But he did. I decide to go for a paddle. Within seconds my foot is feeling a bit better – not full running better but a lot livelier! I ignore the jelly fish stings and the gangrene that has set in with the sub-artic temperatures. Hmmm – could there be some truth in the famous Highland fable that ‘there’s no’ just durty big jobbies, raw sewage and effluent in the sea. There are magical healing powers in the Embo water, boy.’ Dad was right.
Figure 15: The best sea in the planet at Embo beach. My foot’s in there somewhere.
Whilst the girls snooze away in their comfy chambers, the wee man and I head off to Bonar Bridge golf course. Aye, I did say Bonar! No, not boner, you filthy minded sod. Many a snorting giggle has been had between the boys over the years whenever I mention the name. Indeed, it is formally called Ardgay Golf Course….not sure that’s much better to be fair. Still, it’s a beauty of a 9 holer, nestled within rolling hills and woodland, overlooking the Dornoch Firth or some other stretch of water. There’s an honesty box as there’s no staff whatsoever. Some mysterious creatures are keeping the place in very top-notch condition, everything from clubhouse to course is immaculate. It’s a dream as we are both not gifted in the game, so it’s a luxury to have no one see us embarrassing ourselves – there is no-one on the course! Great success.
Figure 16: Bonar Bridge/Ardgay Golf Course. Possibly my all-time fave. Truly beautiful.
Figure 17: Tomster G teeing off. Watch oot Macillroy!
It is a challenging wee course for players of our calibre. The most unforgiving rough we’ve ever seen, losing 4 balls on average a hole. Luckily, it’s a short course but there’s something in those bushes and tall grass that likes our balls, and I’m not willing to find out who or what it is! We do hit the occasional respectable shot though, which seems to be par for the course in our golf experience. D’ye get me?
Of course, it’s not all about sporting activities for Tomster G and I. We are not some mono dimensional neanderthal beer n sports fiends. We like the finer things in life, like Scotch Pies, empire biscuits and yum-yums from Willaim Grant’s Bakery in Tain. We also are huge fans of shopping, so when Katy tipped me off that there was a statement necklace in the jewelers in Tain, so we headed there at full speed to procure.
Figure 18: Window shopping …we succumb to a range of tasty goodies inside
Now, I don’t know about you, but I had no idea what a statement necklace actually is. I think I thought it was some sort of brand, so boldly entering the shop, I said:-
‘Hi. Can ah see the statement necklace please?’.
The seated proprietor stared at me blankly then blinked multiple times. Might be my weedgie accent.
I shift uncomfortably. It’s hot and dark in the wee shop, and I’m not from round here. Murders and violence are trending in the Highlands at the moment, (you should watch Highland Cops on i-player, it’s beyond supremo imensio), so I gulp and feel round to my back pocket for my gun. Oh, I forgot, I don’t have one. The wee man is behind me though, and I reckon he’d be a decent body guard.
‘What sort of statement?’ she finally asks in an American accent. This takes me back.
‘Oh, are you American?’
‘No. Canadian.’
‘Oh, sorry that’s insulting. That’s like you calling me English.’
‘Oh, I thought you were’, she said coldly.
Err. This is not going well.
My phone pings. Praise the man above, it’s a text from Katy with more info – ‘it’s a purple one’.
‘Ha. It’s a purple one’ I say confidently.
She stares at me.
‘Err, it was in the window. Err yesterday My daughter and wife looked at it.’
The Canadian says nothing.
She slowly rises from her knitting voodoo dolls and wobbles over to the window.
‘It must be this one. It’s the only one I’ve got.’
‘Thanks. I’ll take it. Bye!’
Figure 19: Aye right. You try spotting the statement necklace!
Figure 20: Statement necklace found and procured!
Back at the ranch, Mrs Jockose is having the time of her life. With the most scenic outdoor drying facilities she could ever wish for, she’s one happy bunny.
Figure 21: Happy wife, happy life. The most wonderful set-up in Scotland, & a washing line too.
She does eventually tear herself away from ironing, cooking and cleaning and reluctantly comes to the beach, and enjoys a fresh, scenic hand-in-hand walk to nearby Dornoch, where we grab a couple of scoops at the most excellent Castle, following many, many, many minutes of shopping.
Figure 22: Magnificent architecture and Dornoch Castle
Next day, Katy is a bit under the weather, poor thing, so she stays back in the ranch whilst we head off to The Tomintoul Highland Games to meet Morag and family.
Well, the Highland Games were brilliant. Not only did it have everything one would expect at such an event, such as Tennents lager and sausage rolls, it had wild dancing, bearded people throwing things, extremely loud pipe bands, angry animals and Olympic races.
It was great to see Jenny’s cousins from nearby Elgin, who all live overseas now: Morag (traveled from Oz); Kirsty (travelled from France) and Ross (travelled from Chicago) and parts of their respective families. We all got on brilliantly and within no time at all, Jenny joined Kirsty and Mo on stage to win the dancing comp!
Figure 23: Hoots mon! Scots Wahay!
Figure 24: Morag, Jenny & Kirsty take the place by storm & win the under 60s dance comp!
Figure 25: Winners are grinners! Well done the girls. Err, and the boys.
I had a go at tossing the caber, after someone called me a tosser, but I’m used to having a much bigger one (wouldn’t fit in the car, unfortunately) so got knocked out first round. I did help the band play a rousing edition of She Sells Sanctuary though. Magnificent on the pipes.
Figure 26: Me tossing ma caber. Wasn’t a proper one though, so I didn’t win.
Figure 27: Thought I’d best give the lads a hand. Top band.
Achh, it’s Sunday already and we’re leaving tomorrow for the long trip back south 🙁
I walk along the beach on my own, early, enjoying the sea breeze, the squacks of the seagulls and the soft sand underfoot. I realize it’s the 3rd anniversary of my dad’s passing, so I ponder going to church in Dornoch. Nothing like a miserable Free Church service to remind you of how bad you are, and to bring some reflectance on life. My fave painting of all time is by the Glasgow boys, depicting a funeral on a highland village street. My Grandma and Uncle Jimmy had theirs like that, which was fairly heavy duty. I know a lot of people think funerals should be a ‘celebration of life’ but I disagree. I think they should be a miserable, dour affair, with all in black, seated on hard pews, suffering a long sermon, and general gnashing of teeth. If it’s outdoors and a bunch of you take the coffin for a walk, so much the better.
Figure 28: The Glasgow Boys nail it with this painting (see it at the Kelvingrove Art Galleries, Glasgow)
I do decide to go to Church in the end, and it’s disappointing. It’s nothing like the services of old, when there was no decoration, no musical instruments and certainly no smiling or laughing. Now, it’s all happy clappy, singing and dancing and informal clothing. It does make me reflect though – it’s time to move on. The past is what it is.
Supping a pint later during our lunch with Auntie Jessie, Neil and kids, it’s great to know we still have family on the Grant side, albeit they are Embo-homeless too through unfortunate circumstances; like us, they are staying in a nice wee holiday cottage.
Figure 29: We have a nice lunch with Auntie Jessie, Neil & his kids
Later, as Jenny and I sit outside at our lovely air b & b, we watch the sun set, as our holiday time closes. It’s been fast, it’s been great, and we will always be back in Embo.
Figure 30: Sun setting on beautiful Embo countryside at the close of our hol
Fortunately, I don’t need to pack lunch for our journey tomorrow. By some miraculous turn of fate, I have found two remaining packets of hula hoops, and a caramel wafer to sustain us on our journey. Great success. High five!
Hmmm, might pop into William’s bakery on the way past though…just if there’s time.
Until next time, Oidhche mhath.
Sources
1-30: Ally & Jenny Grant photos & vids July 2024