Easdale

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Sometimes you find perfection in its purest form at a location unknown before.

Like a little treasure brought to you by an old friend. A very special friend that you only meet once a year, every time in a different country… first in Ecuador, then in Colombia, subsequently in Mexico and now in the land of his childhood: Scotland. On a little piece of land where his youth memories are preserved and kept alive, dancing vividly in front of his eyes while driving me down the swirly road from Mallaig to Oban. Scared to oversell the place, but unable to contain his enthusiasm to go back to where he left as a boy and now for the first time returns as a full-grown man.

I listened to Adam’s eager voice while my taste buds soaked up the flavor of ‘vinegar crisps’. As a vegan I can’t do haggis, Scotch egg or fish ‘n chips, but this masterpiece of the British ‘cuisine’ is all mine to munch on. Not that I would starve that weekend… we bought three full grocery bags of food and our only task for the next two days was to finish it all. Life can be beautiful like that.

We reached the ferry that would bring us to the island of Easdale. Let me alter the notion of ‘ferry’ to you first, as you’re probably having this image in your head of the rough jewel of the English Industrial Revolution, a giant structure designed for vehicles of all sizes and shapes crossing the seas… No, the ferry to Easdale is a tiny little boat navigated by an old man in a yellow poncho.

You have to leave your car on the mainland, as the only vehicles permitted on the islet are wheelbarrows. For real. But that’s something the 59 inhabitants can perfectly live with. Indeed, I said 59… not 59,000, just 59.

How the hell do you end up on an island like that, besides by birth? Well, very simple. Adam’s great-uncle once randomly sailed by when someone joked there was a house for sale on Easdale. “Sold!” he shouted, and that was that. Memories were to be created. And if you wonder what he paid for this spacious bungalow with a living room, separate kitchen, bathroom and two bedrooms… ₤6,500.

The man’s a legend.

Remote in all its stunningness. Surrounded by clear waters and the horizon, rich with wild blackberries impossible for any capable human to eat all (although I must admit I made a fair attempt).

There was nothing to do and therefore so much to do.

It’s an art in modern society to replace luxury for something more pure and real. Getting grounded by simply listening to your own breathing. Getting soaked up into a book amidst nature. Climbing a hill at sunset to warm yourself up with a bottle of wine while the wind brushes your hair. Letting out honest laughs with a friend while singing along the exact lyrics of the Sound of Music. Playing board games on a warm and cozy couch with a cup of tea.

The biggest event in Easdale is the yearly Stone Skimming Competition, which we were just about to miss with one week difference. But that didn’t stop us. On beautiful days like this one, a rare crystal clear sunny day in dreary Scotland, you can fill hours by working towards that perfect bounce. The still waters and perfectly shaped rocks enabling the island’s local slate industry create the perfect conditions for epic throws, Adam going home with the biggest honor.

And once it turns dark and the night cools you down to the bone, Easdale’s only bar opens it doors to warm you up with some freshly tapped ale and cider. You know, I’ve been to the classiest bars, like the Armani Bar in Milan to give you an example, but I would without hesitation swap it for The Puffer.

In The Puffer the beer is cold and the people are real. No pretensions. In The Puffer you can make friends by screaming “I’ll buy a pint for the first man hitting bull’s eye”, which is a safe bet, as everyone is too drunk to do so. And then it doesn’t matter if you have any clue what these cheerful friends-for-a-night are saying in their mumbling Gaelic, everyone smiles in the same language (- a wise man once said… or the internet, it was probably just the internet).

On Easdale they preserved life how it once was. Without distractions.

If I ever lose my shit I don’t need a shrink, nor a mindfulness-training, nor the strongest medication. A week on Easdale without a boat to get off will bring me back to my senses. I hope I’ll be crazy enough soon.

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