Having done some distillery bagging and a walk on the beach to Billie’s Bench in Bowmore, we headed back to Bowmore and decided to do a late take-out from the local Chinese and collect our thoughts about the eventful day with our legs up on the coffee table for the remainder of the evening.

Next morning, we are on Islay, so we are going to walk! Never mind our lung capacity, let’s go to Portnahaven and see what there is to see there. Said and done. After a good night’s rest we adventured down the narrow, winding roads leading south on the Western most – and most beautiful part of Islay, to the maze of the tiny village Portnahaven really is. Although there is no paid parking in Portnahaven, finding a spot is similar to finding one in the centre of Monaco during the grand prix weekend; good luck with that. You may have to walk a bit before you can see the seals in the harbour, and – if you are really lucky, the whales. 

With the weather we were having, it was not a big problem to walk a bit, although any seals and whales were having a bank holiday or out for brunch or something. No problem, the weather was here and things were beautiful anyway. We had heard of a little green gate leading to a place Currie Sands a mile and a half up the road, so we decided to divert our attention, turned right at the church towards Tormisdale and, after the Islay Celtic Craft Shop, took the first left onto another, even more narrow yet newly paved road, which led to as close as Canada as we physically could. I.e. the Western most part of Islay.

After stopping for a few shots with our little drone Donatella and having a conversation with a ram carrying a buoy tight around his horns, he convinced us to inform his owner about the buoy and to remove it. The owner in their place however informed us that he may have looked and sounded sad and in trouble, but the buoy was a simple yet effective measure to prevent him from jumping over the fences and venturing into the wild. 

Only while we were talking to the owner of the ram, we noticed a little green gate with “Currie Sands” written on them. They would have preferred us to park on the neatly cut grass instead of their private parking gravel, but it is okay for us to leave the car and head down to the little beach. Behind the green gate, a narrow and not particularly distinct path leads down a steep hill to a white sandy beach. Unexpectedly white for a Scottish beach. If it were not for the temperature, we might have thought we had just stepped through a portal and ended up in Hawaii.