A GREAT WRONG IS RIGHTED AT ROSEISLE.

August.

Remarkably, the weather has improved since the last walk and is now something like summer should be. Which is just as well, because August is time for our barbecue walk at Roseisle and this August was to be no exception. We started off at Hopeman, parking down by the harbour and, as at Kinveachy, near to the public toilets. Also as at Kinveachy, some of us found it impossible to walk past - especially as they were so florally attractive.

Ever the gentleman, Dave walked past covering his ears against any stray sounds.

 

Note the blue skies.

 

Hopeman was an important little fishing village and it has its own version of Cranky the Crane, which is, as you all know, a character from Thomas the Tank Engine. 

Nearby to the harbour was The Old Salt gathering place where fishermen and sailors would gather to discuss the day's catch, weather and the latest happenings in Eastenders.

 

Replicas of some of the local boats were attached to the roof of the Gathering Place.

Soon we were walking by the coastline. 

 

Looking back towards the harbour.

 

Watching the lobster boats lifting the creels.

 

We walked along the old railway line, then took the steps down to the beach for a look at the stone arch.

This allowed Dave and Jacque to demonstrate the fact that they were clearly well above Sharon.

 

Here we all are on the beach.

 

 

Beach Art. These little stones and the sand had been washed into a fold in the rock to create a pleasing arrangement that might have been fashioned by some ancient craftsman. Goodness that was a bit lyrical.

 

 

More organically, this pretty little plant, with its mixture of green and variegated leaves, is equally attractive.

 

Less attractive, Jimmy strides out.

 

Strung out like pearls cascading down the slope.

Further along the path we come across St Aethan's Well. Well, at least that's what the sign said the well was called.

 

There was a cup there for people to take a drink....

 

...so naturally some people couldn't resist.

The sign couldn't be clearer.....

...but the dog couldn't read!

 

 

This part of the coast is famed for its marine life and the boat below had had an altercation with Jaws. Well it might be true.

 

At Burghead, we paid a visit to the Pictish Fort, which is quite impressive as my photo shows.

 

 

Out we go the promontory where the little museum is housed.

 

Looking back to the village.

One of the original Picts comes out of the museum.

Followed by his consort.

 

And then Sharon, who must be some sort of Pictish Princess, as Jacque is bowing down in front of her.

The harbour wall zig-zags out to the sea.

 

 

So down the steps we go to the harbour.

 

Some a little more gingerly than others.

Reflections of an industry that once was common, but is now less and less so.

 

The starboard light at the harbour entrance. 

 The port light.

 

The fishermen obviously needed a bit more than just the lights to find their way home and they had painted the centre line of the entrance on the back of the harbour for extra help.

 

 

Echoes of the past.

 

The memorial to the Shetland Bus. In 1942 and 43, boats shuttled from Burghead and the Northern Isles to Norway. Supplies and agents went to Norway and people escaping the Nazis came back. 8 Norwegians were killed leaving Burghead and the propeller from the sunken ship forms part of the memorial now erected at the harbour to commemorate the Shetland Bus.

 

It is the actions of these brave men that allowed the youth of today the freedom to drink in public parks.

Finally leaving Burghead harbour.

Walking round the bay towards Roseisle and our barbecue.

 

Oh! what a tangled web we weave.

Just when you thought there wouldn't be one - here is the bridge photo.

And so to Roseisle, the barbecue and the games.

 

This blog is beginning to sound a bit like a factual and informative account of our walk. Well it is time to stop all that.

 

Bess Truman once said "I've liked lots of people 'til I went on a picnic jaunt with them". Well a barbecue followed by games could well be the same recipe for disaster. However, in this case, justice was done and a great wrong was made right.

We played boules.

We had played boules at the Smith annual petanque competition a few weeks earlier. At that earlier competition, Bob and Xana (daughter-in-law of Dave and Sandra) were beaten in the final due to arbitrary and capricious rule making on the part of Jimmy.

 

Although I was not bitter about this I could tell it had made Xana pretty mad and upset.

 

 

So there was a point to prove at the barbecue!!!

Sharon and I proved that point by thrashing all the others and we dedicated this magnificent and righteous victory to Xana Warrior Princess.

 

 

 

Dave was so happy he did a little jig.

 

 Even Jimmy realised the error of his ways and did a dance of happiness for our well deserved win.

Despite the best efforts of the police and social workers, we managed to attract a young girl to come and skip with us. 

 

Playing about in the forest gives a whole new meaning to the ball being up on the slates. It was actually stuck in the tree.

 

Sue and I slump at the thought of Dave's desire for more action filled ball games.

Can Jimmy catch it?

 

Maybe.

 

 

But no! The ball slips between his fingers.

Before you know it, it was 6 o'clock and time for all the little teddy bears to go home to bed after their picnic.

 

Another fine day out, so thanks to Robin and Susan for organising everything and thanks to

Dikē (English pronunciation: /ˈdiːkeɪ/ or /ˈdɪkiː/; Greek: Δίκη, English translation: "justice"), the goddess of justice and the spirit of moral order and fair judgement based on immemorial custom, in the sense of socially enforced norms and conventional rules for putting right the petanque injustice. I promise to hardly ever mention it again.