Loch Fuar—Is it the Isle of Bute?

Every time I go travelling anywhere in Scotland, especially near a water body like the Isle of Bute, I ask myself, “Could this be Loch Fuar?”

There are two things to clarify in that sentence. Numero uno, Loch Fuar is indeed fictional, and I carry that place in my head. So I can access it whenever I want to. However, it is slightly exciting and snort-inducing when I see a white-washed cottage with blue windows and door or a small police station with just enough space to squeeze in a handful of police cars somewhere in the Scottish Highlands.

It feels like I’ve manifested that place, which is always a goosebump-inducing occurrence for me. And then I wonder, if only I could manifest Callan… sigh.

Anywho, this post is not about my love-hate relationship with that grumpy hunk. Let’s move on to the second thing I would like to clarify, specifically around my thought process around a water body. This is Scotland. There is no dearth of water in this country. When it’s not raining, there is a loch glinting under the sparse sun somewhere within a few miles of you.

In Glasgow, we have the river Clyde and puddles… And I don’t compare Loch Fuar to Glasgow even if, as a former Mumbaikar (person from Mumbai 🇮🇳), Glasgow is a small town for me. But even I agree, it’s not Loch Fuar small. No, I particularly find myself searching for Dachaigh, Isla’s Bakery or a wee police station on trips around lochs where I can spot a few houses dotting a faraway isle.

And one such trip I recently took was to the Isle of Bute, an isle about 1.5 hours from Glasgow.

THE JOURNEY THERE

It took us an hour on the train from Glasgow Central station to Wemyss Bay. While I’m not entirely sure how to correctly pronounce the name, I can say that Wemyss Bay has got one of the cutest train stations I’ve ever seen. It’s a wee old Victorian structure with a covered wooden walkaway. And all you are urged to do when you get off the train is to walk along the platform that soon turns into a jetty.

My mystery-author’s eye turned to how one could break into this station (occupational hazard, I guess). My immediate conclusion was: easy-peasy. After all, you can literally park your car NEXT to the railway platform. All you need to do is hop on the platform to board the train! Ah, now do you see why I was reminded of “quaint little towns” during my journey?

You cannot though just hop on the ferry. You’ll need a Caledonian MacBrayne ticket. Not that I’m suggesting you break any rules. (Remember, Callan’s a cop and you don’t want to upset the grump)

THE FERRY TO THE ISLE OF BUTE

I always enjoy a good ferry. Despite being raised on the coast, I never had many occasions to board a ferry. Like Aileen says in When Painted With Deceit:

…Change. If this was to be the entrance to the new glamping site, the first task would involve a roller flattening this driveway. Then would come a massacre of serenity and their sanity. How many times had humans played this game with nature and called it the side effect of modernisation?

Aileen Mackinnon in When Painted With Deceit

Mumbai has a spaghetti of bridges snaking around it, ferries all long forgotten. So, when I step on a giant “ferry”, I prefer to gaze out and breathe in the salty humid air. Approaching the Isle of Bute, I could smell the fish in the air, mixed with the unique stench of brine.

All I could think was: sea air wherever you are in the world, no matter the weather or temperature, smells the same. To me, it smells of comfort and dreams.

On our thirty minute journey over, while I ensured my camera captured the sights around me, I dreamed. What would Loch Fuar look like from the distance? What mysteries could such a ferry carry? What could happen if I pulled that red latch you’re only supposed to pull during emergencies? (We’ve already established that my brain doesn’t work on the straight and narrow)

NOT DREAMS

I must mention something I did see that was absolutely exciting and unusual, and that I did not make up–I saw a submarine being towed! I have seen submarines before, parked in the harbour, like sleeping slick sharks bobbing under the waves.

It’s something about them that makes my skin crawl, and it’s not to do with why we do have submarines–for warfare. But them being towed across a calm ocean was jaw-dropping fun for me. Sometimes I am easily entertained.

THE ISLE OF BUTE

Approaching the Isle of Bute on a ferry is rather confusing. There’s land everywhere you turn. It could also explain why the ferry crossing is over the Loch Striven (I think), when this loch is not exactly land locked. I found myself turning in circles trying to figure out where the main land, the other isle (the Isle of Arran), and my intended destination was! Thankfully, the captain of the ship knew his way and we were docking into the Isle of Bute’s main town, Rothesay very soon.

Rothesay is the quintessential harbour town. Its esplanade would have once been extremely popular with the Victorians promenading with their parasols, swooning over handsome rakes, laughing at dithering girls, and steering clear of sharp-eyed mamas on the prowl. It’s got old buildings where these Glaswegian Victorians would have stayed, now hotels for the more modern tourists all boasting a surprisingly large collection of cabbage trees in their yards, something my Kiwi friend was very taken by.

Rothesay has two castles, both were closed on a Saturday, a very common and frustrating occurrence in my trips within Scotland. And a museum which held some surprises for me.

ROTHESAY’S PAST

Rothesay used to be a burgh ie. a town that could collect its own taxes. They had their own city council and a bustling economy. Seeing the sleepy town today, I wasn’t expecting that. But I suppose the humid sea air would’ve been perfect for textile manufacturing, an industry the museum said was a popular employer on the isle.

Later came the Glaswegians. The Isle of Bute sits on the exact spot where the River Clyde empties out into the Firth of Clyde. So technically, this island is literally doon the water from Glasgow. A journey, we also undertook on that fine Saturday albeit on a train. In the older days, when continental travel was expensive and slower, the city folk would descend on this quaint wee isle for the weekend.

Even today, Rothesay bares the signs of its touristic past. Old abandoned Victorian pools, old sewage disposal structures, the many hotels, an old botanical garden structure, and even an old Victorian loo by the quay!

TAKE THE TOUR

For a quick day trip from Glasgow, I would recommend Rothesay. Although, if like me you like castles and don’t want to take the inevitable trip back to see them, check their opening times.

And if all else fails, you have a hop-on (and sort-of-stay-on) bus tour with a live guide (who is also driving the bus). This tour is 1.5 hours long and takes a loop around the island. It’s fun to see the parts of the Isle of Bute you’ll never be able to closely examine unless you decide to drive or stay on and hike. And it’s interesting to see the remains of a tram line that would take people from Rothesay to more secluded parts of the island aka “villages”; I was surprised when the guide showed us a cluster of four houses and called it a village!

All in all, for a leisurely day trip, I recommend the Isle of Bute.

MY FINAL MUSINGS

On our hop-on-hop-off tour, the bus driver pointed out an abandoned church that was on sale for a £100,000 without a roof or windows. And that got me thinking, not of a DIY project, but of a character who might buy that building, do up the place, and maybe stumble upon a mystery.

It was just too “right there” for my mind not to go there. So I wonder, if someone from the city were to purchase that church and decide to do it up and move in, what do you think their motivation is? Are they hiding from someone? Or are they there to uncover a past secret?

Let’s muse together in the comments! Let me know your thoughts.