There’s a popular belief that you have to walk miles and go into the wild blue yonder to find interesting places. It’s not true of course. A short stroll can give you lots of history and some grand scenery as well.
Nor do you always need a footpath or bridleway. For this stroll we mostly used the road, a relatively quiet road too, for it comes to a dead end – though there are footpath continuations.
A week ago, we were in Oban in Scotland, a place very familiar to us. But we decided to walk along to Ganavan Bay, somewhere we hadn’t been for a few years. Now this is just the sort of stroll a tourist might do. But it’s interesting, for this couple of miles embraces hundreds of thousands of years of history, legend, folklore and wartime exploits.
This walk below Dunollie Castle even has the blessing of Sir Walter Scott, who admired the scenery hereabouts “Nothing can be more wildly beautiful than the situation of Dunollie.”
He was right. So many times, returning on the ferry from Mull, I’ve admired Dunollie’s Tower as the ship comes into Oban harbour. Once it was green with ivy, though restoration has swept much of this away. There used to be a free path to the tower from the road, but this has now been closed – access is now from the more recent mansion of the Chief of the Clan MacDougall. The original castle dates to at least 685 AD, though what you can see is probably mostly 14th century.
This house itself is now open to the public, housing a little museum regarding the 1745 Jacobite Rebellion. When we went last week, it was also hosting an interesting display about Scottish Tinkers – more of which in another blog,
We approached the castle by way of its original carriage drive, now a pleasant green track which passes the great stone of clacha’ choin, or the Dog Stone, where legend has it that the giant Fingal used to chain up his equally huge hound Bran.
From the castle we headed back along the road, admiring the views across to Kerrera, Morven and Mull. On the other side of the road are great rocky cliffs covered in trees. Search among them and you may discover the caves used by dwellers in the Stone Age, who lived by hunting in these woods and moors or scavenging on the beach. Many more caves were destroyed when the Victorians expanded the town of Oban. But the views across the seascape would have been as familiar to Stone Age men and women as they are to us.
And like us they would have seen deer as they walked along the edge of the sea.
The road winds round to Ganavan Bay, sadly partially disfigured by the kind of ghastly modern architecture that should never have got planning permission. But our thoughts were on the past. During World War Two, Ganavan was used as a base for the seaplanes that went far out into the Atlantic to guard shipping convoys and destroy enemy U-Boats. Only a simple signboard relates this history, though there is more information in the Oban Military Museum.
What a pity that Ganavan Bay couldn’t have been left in a state that might have been recognised by those wartime aviators. These luxury homes are just a massive intrusion and a disfigurement of a fine coastline.
Years ago we followed the coast from here for several miles on an extremely wet day. But this time we returned to Oban, via a cup of tea stop at Dunollie. Reflecting on so much Scottish history.
Walking the Old Ways 
Reblogged this on Musings on Life & Experience and commented:
Some lovely scenery from Scotland near Oban.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
spent a lot of time in and around Oban before they took the Uist ferries away from there. I used to like going the other way to Gallanach best but it was a better cycle than a walk because it was pretty long. But I used to sometimes go that way – never saw the carriage drive or the dog stone though!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, that’s a good one too. A longer ramble is to follow the old stagecoach route to Connel and then return via the Black Lochs of Kilvarie – an old favourite of mine. And some very wild country east of those lochs.
LikeLike
Now that does sound nice!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Great views.
LikeLike
You’ve made me want to get my walking legs back!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Best of exercises.
LikeLiked by 1 person
As a small child, I was evacuated from Glasgow with my mother in 1939-40 to avoid the incoming Luftwaffe. My recollections are only vague but I can still recall the mighty RAF Sunderland flying-boats in the Bay and the glorious Ganavan sands. I don’t know how long we stayed there, but it was not long enough: we came back home just in time to be targeted by the Germans when they hit Glasgow and Clydebank. Thankfully, we emerged unscathed.
However, many years later I met an elderly German while on an international cruise ship. Over a few drinks at the ship’s bar, when I told him I was from Glasgow, he suddenly perked up and slyly told me he had served in the Luftwaffe as a navigator – and had taken part in air raids over Clydebank and Glasgow. He also confessed that, when the Spitfires turned up, his aircrew mates, in a panic, demanded that the pilot turn around and head back home, dropping their bombs randomly as they fled. This recollection seemed to amuse him greatly. ‘Of course, we didn’t tell Goering,’ he said. Thinking of the countless numbers of civilians who must have perished as a result of these tactics, my instinct was to throw him overboard at the first opportunity. Yet I somehow resisted and we even managed to down a few more evening drinks at the bar – especially after he showed me the massive surgical scars left from a recent life-saving double bypass operation. Of course, he must be long gone now, but I still instinctively dislike anything German, yes, even VWs.
I have been back to Oban a few times and enjoyed the magnificent highland scenery – but, sadly, I never could find exactly where my mother and I were billeted all those years ago.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Absolutely fascinating John. There’s a very good war museum in Oban now, with excellent pictures of the period. They’d probably know were you were billeted. I saw a photo in there of one of the pilots, and interestingly I knew his widow in her old age. Best regards, John
LikeLike