Heavenly day at Sandwood Bay

Gail Squires

Summer in Scotland - you're either lucky or unlucky but you nearly always get some bad weather and on a particular day in July a few years ago we woke up to a cold blanket of east coast sea mist or 'haar'.

We were staying with my parents in Dornoch, a glorious town on the north east coast with many claims to fame not least of which is the world renowned championship golf course. But even non-golfers will have been briefly aware of it when Madonna chose its beautiful 12th century cathedral for the christening of her son in 2000. Just as a matter of interest, after the media had departed, a forest of aluminium ladders was to be found on the green outside the cathedral - all abandoned by the photographers who had cleaned out local supplies in order to ensure a good view! I would hazard a guess that there wasn't much of a trade in ladders in the area for a while!

I can't really remember if this day of mine happened the year before or after Madonna's visit but the weather on both days was much the same although her day was in December and mine was in July! What a scourge the haar is to the east coast!

Bleak weather was a big disappointment but my mother was certain that if we drove a few miles westward we would get out of the mist and into the sun. She was an eternal optimist about the weather, always upbeat and usually correct. And so she was, we drove inland and by the time we got to Rogart, only about 10 miles inland, we were bathed in hot sunshine from a nearly cloudless sky.

However, our plan was more ambitious than just to find the sun, we were going to Sandwood Bay. Just the very name fills me with delicious excitement and suspense. I first went there when I was about eight years old and with my family and some friends we walked the 4 miles or so to the bay. There are ghost stories about a sunken ship and the sea captain who has been seen there from time to time. Reports tell of the smell of rum on the air and the atmosphere at any time is exhilarating and mysterious. A little bit like holding your breath when you know something is about to happen.

The adults on that occasion had great fun adding the aroma of rum to the atmosphere from hip flasks brought with them for the purpose and also to warm them up from the inside out! We kids scampered about to keep warm on the beach, the dunes and the rocks. We walked along the top of the cliffs and looked down on the stack, Am Buchaille, that sits at the southern end of the bay. The weather that day was misty and dreich but we all had fun anyway.

Fast forward a few years and the weather was idyllic, even Mediterranean. Of course, our kids were not enthused. They only had my word for it, as did my husband, that there was a pot of gold at the end of this rainbow and the rainbow in question was masquerading as a stretch of unpromising bog as far as the eye could see. However, I was determined and so we tramped across the moor together bombarded by clegs and flies. I tried to distract the kids from their woes, pointing things out such as the stunning west highland mountains standing aloof, stark and inscrutable in the distance, but this, of course, is invisible to anyone under 18!

I will never forget the moment of magic - a moment that sticks with me and is proof that the most fabulous things can happen. We rounded the bend and there, stretching out its welcoming arms to us was the most breathtaking couple of miles of sun-drenched golden sands I have ever seen. We were standing high above at the top of the towering dunes that fell away steeply to the beach below and the dazzling, sparkling blue sea was like a miracle. But the real magic was the change this wrought in our kids, their cares and grumps disappeared like a silken cape slipping from their shoulders and away they went, whooping, jumping and rolling down the hot dunes while we watched, mesmerised.

Then followed a day in paradise basking in the sunshine and pottering about among the rocks. I declined to swim after discovering that the sea was so cold that my legs from the knees down became completely numb within seconds. But the others did - I am in awe of them for that - I was sure I could hear the tinkle of ice cubes!

Strangely, it is rare to be alone at Sandwood Bay. Seeing a distant figure striding along the water's edge you can't help wondering if it is the wraith of the shipwrecked captain hunting for his shipmates or more likely perhaps the lost barrels of rum? We were not alone this day either - there were at least a dozen others about and I even got talking to a lady who knew a friend of my mother's!

It proves something that, many miles from the nearest technology as we were, there was no boredom whatever. Sun, sea, sand, lofty dunes and rocks complete with pools for poking about in and everyone felt free and blissfully happy.

Eventually it was time to go. The haar seemed to have followed us around the coast and was rolling in fast from the horizon like a wall of billowing smoke. As we walked away from the beach it was never very far behind as it followed us over the moor obliterating the bay from our view, shooing us away and creating an eerie 'Brigadoon' atmosphere - had the day been an illusion? If it wasn't for our photographs, I don't think I would be completely sure!