I’m on the island of Davaar, I’ve been coming here for sixty years I think. Not 100% sure about that, but it’s been a long time.
To get here you can either come by boat of course, however most people will walk across the Dhorlin, which is the sand bar that gets exposed at low tide. For the first time I got driven across in a four wheel drive by Ned, one of the caretakers of the island. There are three options for accommodation here and I am in the Barnacle-pod, I’ll leave the link for the website below.
The main reason tourists come here is to see the cave painting of the crucifixion which was painted in 1887 by Archibald Mckinnon.
To get to it can be a bit of a hike from the mainland, of course you need to check the tide times before setting off. For me I really didn’t need to know because I was staying here for two days. It’s my 65 birthday and so I thought that this would be a great place to come.
After I visited the cave I then embarked on circumnavigating Davaar. This can only be done at low tide. Now if you think getting to the cave is challenging you’ll be in for quite the surprise as you continue on passed. It’s really quite treacherous at times, but I found that if you can rock hop using the larger ones you would be fairly safe. Traversing over the debris from the cliff falls was quite tricky, many of the stones shifted as you put weight on them. I was lucky really because only a handful of times did it get a bit wobbly and scary.
I clung to the rock face for a lot of the time, mainly because the ground was dry but I really just tried to use the larger rocks when I could because they were more stable. I got round safety which I’m glad to say and I must put that down partly to my wonderful walking boots.
21 years ago I came here with my two sisters and the ashes of my Mother. We came in a small red boat and disembarked at the small jetty just down from my pod. I remember walking up to the lighthouse trying to find a suitable spot to say farewell to Mum. The pods were not here then.
We stood on the grass somewhere where there was a drop to the shingle beach below, I think we faced Campbeltown, and then we opened the urn and let my Mother fly. The wind was so strong that she came back to all of us to say cheerio 😁
So Davaar for me is not just a memory of childhood, it’s a pilgrimage that I make anytime I can to say hello to me Ma.