National Geographic : 1970 May
HERE HAD BEEN RAIN during the Great Glen, Oban is the anchor to which the night. Now the empty pavements and islands ride, and its piers are their angway slated roofs of ()ban glinted in the newly to mainland life, risen sun. Gulls, roused by the .awn, hung I found a crewman balanced on the edge kiteike n the bitter breeze, watching search- of the Claynor's hold, shouting in Gaelic to ing, shrilly screaming. Of people the streets a crane operator. He switched to English at held none; but out on the docks a slow swirl my approach. of activity centered on the mail steamer Clay- "Is it yourself that's bringing a car across?" mnk, bound for the islands called the Outer he asked. Itold him it was and asked how the Hebrides: tarri, he Uists, and Lewis. car might come aboard. "Ach, well, we'll just It is at the dock of Oban that a visitor first be putting it In the cargo net and swinging it tastes the flavor of that ocean outpost the up on deck. At your isk, of course. But I l a ding Norse men once called "West-over- doubt we'll be keeping it safe." Sea.''It is here that he first hears the soft As I pondered this curious intelligence (as Gaelic of the islands. A pretty, well-protected yet unaware that Gaels often say "doubt" port snuggling near the mouth of Scotland's when they mean "believe"), a rich snell of EKTACtiROME(©NATIONALGEOGRAPHICSOCIETY 677 c. A A' '61 '. R~ + ' A llA ,AAA.g i aA k_ .A~AA'