Sunday 25 September 2016

A Pompeii weekend

"But if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing changed at all?"

Forum Pompeii
Forum - Pompeii
January 2016 - start of the year.
Life at work had barely returned to normal after the holidays. It had only been two weeks since my return from visiting Vienna, Bratislava and Prague over Christmas. I had a trip planned for Iceland later in the month too. With still a few days to use up on my Schengen visa before it expired, I needed a plan, and with back to back holidays, the plan had to be short. An extended weekend was all that I could afford, I figured. Decided my destination - Pompeii - a place I had always wanted to visit.

On this Saturday, five in the morning, I had already reached Edinburgh airport. I was flying in to Rome Ciampino as the Easyjet flights to Naples did not start until March. While sipping on my morning coffee, made the mandatory Facebook post.

"First travel of the year and a very short one. On the first stage ...a long day's travel ahead. Destination Pompeii."


Armed with Pompeii guide book - a must on a short trip
The flight landed on time and with only a hand luggage no further time was wasted at the carousel. As I came out of the terminal building at Ciampino, the long queues at the bus stop looked ominous. I walked back into the building to see if I could get the bus tickets, but Terravision, the main bus service to Termini had stopped taking reservations at their airport counter. There was a shortage of buses, was told, for whatever reason. As I waited at the queue, got lucky and found an empty seat on a fully booked bus service. Just a single empty seat - the charms of solo travel! 

The journey to Termini was a crawl through traffic. Once at the station, purchased the train tickets for the fast Frecciarossa service to Naples Garibaldi. I could have booked the train tickets in advance at a much cheaper rate, but being non refundable and non changeable, my delay at Ciampino would have cost me dearly. The two hours journey to Naples culminated with a majestic view of Mount Vesuvius looming over Naples bay.

Vesuvius over Naples
Mount Vesuvius looking over Naples
My initial plan was to stay in Naples. But while talking about my upcoming trip with my gym instructor, who is an Italian, he strongly suggested I stay in Sorrento and actually advised to avoid Naples. "Pompeii is midway between the two places", he said, "so you won't be losing on time and Sorrento is a far better place to stay." So Sorrento it was for me.

The Circumvesuviana trains leave the lower level of Garibaldi about every thirty minutes. It's an hour long journey into Sorrento. Purchased my tickets and as the next train rolled in, I settled in. Through the window, I watched the train roll past the city. Train stations passed in quick succession, everyone of them covered in  dense graffiti, some even displaying sparks of true talent. The areas looked rough. The train wasn't very busy, yet on a couple of instances some questionable characters got uncomfortably close to my seat. I held on to my belongings, especially my purse, passport and camera. Thankfully, the situation and scenery started to improve as the train moved further away from Naples. I realised why my gym instructor had advised me against Naples.

Though my hotel was in Sorrento, I had to get off at the previous station of Sant' Agnello and then take the short walk. Had a moment of confusion when the increasing house numbers suddenly started going down. Eventually found the place as all I had to do was walk straight on. I was staying at Il Roseto, a beautiful little place and definitely comes recommended.

It was a cold and windy evening and Tony at the B&B warned me against going out. Hoping I had seen worse in Scotland, I went out for a walk, heading towards Sorrento. It was still Christmas here, complete with a beautiful Christmas tree at Piazza Tasso and a Christmas market.

Christmas in Piazza Tasso, Sorrento
Christmas in Piazza Tasso

Church of Carmine Piazza Tasso in Sorrento
Church of Carmine Piazza Tasso in Sorrento
Church of Carmine Piazza Tasso in Sorrento
Church of Carmine Piazza Tasso in Sorrento
It wasn't the tourist season and most places were closed. Places to eat were difficult to come by. Eventually found one. I was a very happy customer on Facebook that night

"Was hungry and walked into this random pizzeria just because saw tables laid out with a couple of people. This time of the year, all other restaurants were pretty much empty. Ordered the chef special pizza of the day - 'buffalo' mozzarella, speck and chestnut, and was blown away by the flavours. Looked up the place after I returned and this turned out to be selling the best pizza in town...not surprised :) - Sorrento, Italy — at Pizzeria da Franco."


Mozzarella, Speck and Chestnut pizza in Sorrento
Mozzarella, Speck and Chestnut pizza in Sorrento

It wasn't just Pompeii which bore the brunt of the Vesuvius about two thousand years ago. Ercolano or Herculaneum, a city far more prosperous was destroyed in the same eruption, but in a different manner. While Pompeii was covered in hot volcanic ashes when the top exploded, Herculaneum fell in the path of the lava as it flowed into the sea. And unlike Pompeii, the excavation in Herculaneum was far more systematic. Most importantly, the artefacts have stayed at site rather than ending up in Naples National Archaeological Museum. The nature of the destruction and the excavation has resulted in better preserved ruins in Herculaneum, albeit smaller. I was undecided which one to visit. Though separated by only a short distance, I won't have time for both in my short itinerary. Finally it was pure logic. I had always wanted to see Pompeii, so that's where I will be.

My initial plan was to spend the morning in Pompeii and then go up to Mount Vesuvius in the afternoon. It all changed when I met an Israeli couple at the B&B. They were heading for Vesuvius first and invited me to join them. I agreed. But I had to get the train tickets first and the ticket counter in Sant' Agnello was yet to open. Using my limited Italian figured out I had to get it from the bar across the road. But then they had run out of tickets to Pompeii Scavi, so instead purchased tickets for Naples which was expensive by a couple of Euros.

The decision to join the Israeli couple was sensible. I had earlier planned to avail the bus service between Pompeii and Vesuvius, which according to internet should have been quite regular. Apparently this service does not run during winter months and a taxi is the only option which leaves from beside the train station. Sharing and a little bargaining made the journey much cheaper at 25 Euros per head. Angelo, our driver was probably in his 70s and was very forceful about taking photographs at every place he stopped. There was no escaping.

Mount Vesuvius


The views from Vesuvius was breathtaking, Naples on the right, Sorrento and Capri to the left. It was a beautiful clear day. The Israeli couple I met had been trying to come up for the past two days, but found the crater closed due to bad weather. They said I was lucky. Though sunny, it was bitterly cold. I put on all my layers, yet felt as if my fingers would fall off. A final layer of my parka eventually helped, but by now I was resembling a badly packed tent. The climb was at a comfortable gradient for less than a kilometre. Standing at the edge of a crater where gas still spewed from the cracks and a strong smell of sulphur hung in the air, it was a constant reminder how active the volcano still was, biding its time to explode again. If it did it could destroy the massive city sprawling below. Considering the disaster it could be, Vesuvius is rated as the most dangerous volcano in the world. It is possible to walk halfway around the edge of the crater but by now clouds had moved in and it was snowing heavily.  We headed back.

Naples from Vesuvius
Naples from Vesuvius
Sorrento and Capri from Vesuvius
Sorrento and Capri from Vesuvius as the snow clouds start to move in
Vesuvius
A dormant volcano, spewing gases 
Vesuvius
Vesuvius
We needed coffee to warm us up after the freeze. Angelo gifted each of us a souvenir photograph of the Vesuvius. He seemed very pleased, especially with the couple. They had given in to all his requests to click. These people were indeed one of the best I have met on my journeys, kind, friendly, helpful with a great sense of humour. They invited me to be their house guest in Israel where they would be my personal guide. I was excited. Unfortunately, I lost their email address so the idea never took shape.

Pompeii
Coffee break outside Pompeii Scavi

Pompeii Scavi


Five minutes inside the ruins and I lost my bearing. Fortunately found a member of staff. I had some idea about the sites to visit from the guidebook I had got the week before - Pompeii: Guide to the Site. She marked these places on the map and also suggested the ones she thought were a must see. Most were in the Zones I, VI, VII, VIII and IX. I also wanted to visit the amphitheatre which was the furthest in Zone II. Her suggestions were extremely helpful as definitely a proper plan is needed to make the most of the visit in a short time. She also marked out the places she knew were closed for maintenance. I was on my way.

Pompeii was overwhelming. As I write this post I can still feel the same excitement as I felt all those months ago. It is the excitement of walking the same streets the inhabitants of this doomed town walked about two thousand years ago, where every moment of their life was frozen in time. Outside the tourist months, the rush was non-existent. The site closes at five in the evening. By half four, the last tour group had left and I was suddenly alone, standing at the forum with not a soul in sight. It is very difficult to explain how I felt, but walking through those empty stone streets, now completely quiet, I could almost feel the vibes of a two thousand years old town, a chill running down my spine. This is what I posted on my Facebook page that night.

"Apparently it is possible to see the main points of interests in Pompeii within 3-4 hours and even take a break in the middle. Either I was not doing the main sights or I had been really slow, which I wasn't. Spent four and half hours today, and I wish I had more. Realistically speaking, it begs for at least a day just for the main sites and then you could end up spending days visiting the ruins in detail if you wish to. 

For me, when I think Roman architecture, I think big, grand, extravagant...but then that's how the Romans lived in Rome, the posh guys living in what they reckoned as the centre of the universe. 
Pompeii, though not Rome, was an affluent port town, where a life less ordinary survived the everyday struggles of what life puts forward. A town inhabited by the commoners, the daily bread earner as well as the affluent, both the cogs of a well oiled economic machine. A town supporting the lives of its residents and the visitors to the port, the sailors travelling from far and wide. And all of that frozen in time by a volcanic eruption about 2000 years ago.

The benefits of off season travel is you get many of the places to yourself, easier to imagine how it might have been all those centuries ago. The downside is, in a place like Pompeii that requires regular maintenance and where new excavations are still on, this is the best time to close them to visitors. I am not complaining as I struggled with whatever there was to see. To help me with the place, I had purchased a guide book last week and had a quick skim through it. That was of immense help. Internet sites said the tickets come with a small guide book and sometimes you had to ask for it. This doesn't seem to be the case now. I asked and no guidebooks were provided. They do provide a map though and there were staff at all the main sites, eager to provide more information if anyone asked for it. A guide is not needed at all.

The guidebook also said, be ready to be overwhelmed, even if you think you know what to expect. That was so true, even for a place stripped down to its bare bones. Walking through the boulder streets it is so easy to be lost in the age, you surely can almost see and feel the 1st century Roman port life living all around you without much effort, such is the charm of the place.

An amazing, amazing place! — at Pompeii Scavi, Italia."

Pompeii ruins


Pompeii ruins


Pompeii ruins


Pompeii ruins


Pompeii ruins


Pompeii ruins


Pompeii ruins


Pompeii ruins


Sorrento


Though a few sites on my list were closed for maintenance, Pompeii had not disappointed me.

I would be starting for Naples around two in the afternoon, meant I had the whole morning. I thought of visiting Amalfi Coast. The first bus was around half eight in the morning. But the locals put me off with the warning that I could be stranded in case a strike happened.

Instead, spent the morning walking around Sorrento. And of course sampling some Sfogliatella.

Sorrento


Sorrento


Sorrento


Sorrento


Sorrento


Sorrento


Sorrento


Sorrento


Sorrento

Saturday 17 September 2016

The Kite Festival

It is a well known fact that India is a diverse country, which is not a surprise given its vastness. Now consider this.

On the east side of my local train station, the annual kite festival is held in January.
And on the west side, where I live, the kite festival is celebrated today, on the 17th September.
All this within a distance of about five kilometres.

17th September is also when the grand festival celebrating the greatest architect, the demigod, Lord Vishwakarma takes place. He is said to be the creator of the mythical golden kingdom of Lanka (modern Sri Lanka) and Lord Krishna's kingdom of Dwarka in western India, which he supposedly built overnight. Ruins of a prosperous, ancient city has actually been found under the Arabian sea which sort of builds a bridge between the mythical and reality, apart from the overnight achievement of course.

And perhaps, by some unknown reasoning, there is a relationship between architecture and kite flying too. Or it might just be a social norm that has been handed down through generations, the reason now forgotten.

From the morning, every rooftop is taken up by groups of enthusiastic kite flyers accompanied by friends and families, their cheer leaders. Colourful and fragile hand made paper kites swarm the pre-autumnal blue skies, flying on strings strengthened by glue mixed with powdered glass. A battle ensues high above, the kites dancing to the rhythm of the deft hands that control them from the ground. A battle is won as the sharp string cuts off the string of the opponent and a chorus of 'Bhokkata' emanates from the roof top, declaring a win. And with that a different battle ensues on ground. Children run through the streets with long sticks pimped up with twigs on top to tangle the strings of the defeated kite now floating freely in the air. The winner is the one who grabs the prize.

This is how I remember it used to be the last time I was present.

Today I woke up to a bright day, but it was extremely stuffy and humid. A depression was brewing in the Bay of Bengal and the wind had dropped. This was soon followed by dense black clouds and heavy rains ensued. The rains eventually stopped in the afternoon, but the wind never picked up. A few kites made up to the sky, trying desperately to stay afloat, a few unexciting battles followed. But the fun never started. Newly bought kites and strings were left unused.

Well, at least it is still the weekend, so probably tomorrow will be a better day.
Or, the west side may just join the east side next year in January.

Spent the day clicking photographs on my mobile phone camera.

kites
Spot the blue one

kites
Kites being prepared to fly

kites
A loner as the sun comes out

kites
No fun not being flown 
sunset
The day ends,, uneventful


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Tuesday 13 September 2016

Monkey business

I had just turned seven. Father had returned from his overseas assignment after spending almost a decade away from home. Our parents, after some deliberation, had decided to settle down in their hometown, in the suburbs. Though only a few kilometres from the city, it was a different world, a peaceful place away from the hubbub of the city. The construction of our new home had started and we all moved into our father's parental home only a short distance away. And life ceased to be the same.

Through the seven years, or what I remember of my very young life, I had followed the normal routine of a normal childhood - designated time to wake up, eat, learn, play, sleep, beach visits on weekends, occasional birthday parties and a few friends. Now, suddenly finding myself in the middle of a deluge of grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins with everyone living under the same roof, I was ecstatic. But for our mother, it was complete mayhem! She found it impossible to pull in the reigns. We always seemed to find a way to escape from from the house, playing barefoot in muddy fields, ending up in sting nettles and thorny bushes, bringing home stray puppies and stealing guavas and berries from the grounds of a grumpy distant aunt of my father who lived next door. Though mother did manage to rightfully convince us, on health and hygiene reasons, to stay away from a variety of the most mouth watering street foods the local vendor came to sell every afternoon. It was a lesson in self restrain as our grandfather continued to smuggle them in, much to the anguish of our mother and aunts. A few bouts of tummy aches did help their cause though.

It was during these days that I came to anticipate the sound of the rattle drum. On a certain weekend every month, the rattle would  echo through the streets as kids ran out in glee, to be greeted by the familiar sight of this young man carrying a long stick as he chased away the street dogs, a sack hanging from one shoulder and a tiny monkey perched on his back. A second monkey, much larger, would be trotting beside him tied to a rope. The children followed them, clapping as he would march into our compound. Our grandfather would ask him for a performance and the whole neighbourhood would gather. It lasted about fifteen minutes. The monkeys were trained to behave like humans. Their master would narrate a story and on his cue the monkeys would walk, run, jump, shake their heads in affirmation or otherwise and dance to trending Bollywood songs. The best part was at the end when he would send the monkeys to collect money from the audience. It was nerve-rackingly exciting to put the coins in their tiny paws, while tempted to touch their soft hair we were too scared to do so.
In those days street performances with monkeys, bears, snakes and even elephants were a common sight (though I have never seen an elephant show, but my brother vouches he has). With entertainment as we know now, yet to take on (only a handful of households could afford a television), these shows topped the popularity list. Years have gone by, life has moved on, interests have changed. Nowadays performing animal shows are frowned upon, even illegal, and children have games and apps to capture their imagination. I have been staying away from home for a few years, returning intermittently and I can now barely recognise the place I grew up in this fast changing world.  

I was enjoying another lazy weekend when the long forgotten, yet familiar beat of the rattle drum sounded from the streets. Hopeful, yet unconvinced, I looked out of the window. It was indeed a street performer and surprisingly it was the same guy from my childhood, looking much older and his clothes shabbier. He still held on to his stick, sack hanging from his shoulder. A monkey perched on his back as another one followed. 

We started talking, about how his life has changed through the years. He was surviving, he said, mainly by the grace of the same kids he had entertained through the years, now all grown up adults. They haven't forgotten him. The monkey on his back was twenty two, no longer a performer now only an onlooker. The one walking beside him much younger at five years old and had replaced the older performer who was retired at the age of thirty. Don't know if he was garnering sympathy, or if his feelings were genuine, but hearing him speak about his monkeys with the love of a parent, it is difficult to judge what is right or wrong. With fast depleting wildlife habitat, perhaps the animals are better off in captivity where they wouldn't at least starve to death. It is like the story of the house dog and the wild fox, where the later chooses a life of freedom to that of comfort but in captivity. The twist to that tale however is that these monkeys help a family survive, a family who consider them as a part of their own.

The performance was short and lasted barely five minutes, the story same as I had heard as a kid but had been cut shorter. The Bollywood songs were from the eighties, no longer trendy. But I was still scared to put the money in their tiny paws. And, no kids came running.

Performing monkeys in Kolkata
Pep talk

Performing monkeys in Kolkata
The performance begins
Performing monkeys in Kolkata
Monkey business
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Thursday 8 September 2016

A cycling weekend in Ayrshire

Castles, Sea and Sunset


I had been scouring the internet for two days, looking for cycling routes by the north Ayrshire coastline. The forecast was of a beautiful weekend, which looked even better on the west coast of Scotland. I was itching to take my bike out for a relaxing weekend ride, which meant no big climbs and definitely no busy roads. Unfortunately, there seemed to be a complete lack of information on cycling routes connecting the quaint towns and villages of the Ayrshire coast. The coastal path wasn't deemed suitable for cycling. While some said a cycling route was still under construction, others said there were still stretches on busy roads. Even Sustrans wasn't of much help. I had decided to stay in Largs and visit Greater Cumbrae for some fun cycling. The rest was to be decided by available cycling routes which, I hoped the locals could help me out with.

And so, on a Saturday morning, I found myself seated on a very quiet train to Glasgow Central, Apart from me there was only one passenger, a guy in his outdoor gear and walking polls. It is not an uncommon sight on a train this early on a weekend. He helped me put my bike beside his. Even though the helpful conductors go beyond themselves to get a bike on busy trains, it is always recommended to book bike space by calling up Scotrail. 

From Glasgow I had to change train for Largs, but needed to fuel up first. Getting the bike on the train while balancing my coffee is a skill I have gradually started to master. The spillage is within acceptable limits. I would be getting off the train at West Kilbride, a couple of station prior to Largs. My plan was to first visit the castle at Portencross, then cycle to Largs. Unfortunately, when I had called up the castle information centre, I was told there are no cycling routes to Largs unless I took the busy road. Since I didn't want to ride with cars whizzing past, I would have to return to the train station and take the train. However, after a short climb, the road went steeply downhill for the two miles to the coast. My resolve to return to the station started diminishing. The thought of the excruciating return journey was pushed back for now as I cut through the wind effortlessly.

Portencross castle Ayrshire Scotland
Portencross castle

The fourteenth century castle at Portencross stands right at the coast overlooking the Clyde of Forth. Portencross had been the site of a castle since the Iron ages, with ruins found on the hills behind the current castle. It was only after the Vikings were defeated and their threat diminished that work on the current castle started. The Friends of Portencross do a commendable job in preserving this site of historical importance. It is a fascinating place to visit with good information and good views all around. www.portencrosscastle.org.uk

At the time of my visit there was no entry fee to the castle, but a donation is happily accepted.

Portencross castle Ayrshire Scotland
Portencross castle

Portencross castle Ayrshire Scotland
Portencross castle great hall

Portencross castle Ayrshire Scotland
Views towards Clyde of Forth from Portencross

Portencross castle Ayrshire Scotland
View from the castle

The tiny place apparently gets very busy on a weekend and the staff were surprised I was still the only visitor on such a beautiful day. I spent some time chatting with them and the locals. An elderly couple stopped by to ask where I was travelling from. I was surprised to find out that they are regular visitor to Kolkata, being involved with charity work. It was fascinating to hear about my hometown from people in this far corner of the world. As I had hoped, being locals they told me about the cycle route to Largs. The first one mile from the castle was off-road track, which they said was all right for my mountain bike. There would be a short stretch near Fairlie where I would have to walk the bike, rest was all meant to be good path.

Every bone in my body was jittering as I took the off-road track hugging the sea. The path ends at the Hunterstone nuclear power station after which a proper tarmac road leads all the way to Fairlie. It was easy riding and at one point I was even feeling guilty for indulging in a Snickers bar.

Cycling in Ayrshire
A nice 8 miles ride

Cycling in Ayrshire
Through the shaded woods

As I had been warned, I had to get off for a short distance in Fairlie where the path becomes rocky and narrow and ends in the beach. Not sure if I missed the signs for the coastal path at this point, but getting back on the road seemed to be the right thing to do. I spotted a guy by the beach and asked about the path, but he was oblivious to its whereabouts.

Cycling in Ayrshire
Fairlie round the corner

Cycling in Ayrshire
Fairlie

Cycling in Ayrshire
The bit to walk the bike on

From Fairlie I took a detour as I headed off for Kelburn castle and country park. It was gradual uphill slog once I got through the main entrance, all the way to the ticket counters. I locked my bike and looked around. This thirteenth century castle is the seat of the Earl of Glasgow. What makes the castle stand out is the graffiti art on the outer walls. These were created by Brazilian artists on the request of the Earl and is now considered among the top ten finest examples of urban art. Though it came up as a temporary feature in 2007, the Earl with permission from Historic Scotland took the decision to make it permanent. Unfortunately the cement work on which the paintings have been created is causing damage to the original castle walls and hence currently in the process of being removed. I could see the evidence of work already in progress, was glad could catch a final glimpse of the artwork before it completely disappears. The country park was busy with families and young children on this beautiful summer day. Trails run through the greenery and beautiful waterfalls. I did not do the mountain bike trails though, never had the heart for it!

Kelburn castle Ayrshire
Kelburn castle

Kelburn castle Ayrshire
Kelburn castle graffiti details

Kelburn castle Ayrshire
Kelburn estate

Kelburn castle Ayrshire
Waterfalls in Kelburn estate

From Kelburn I now headed to my final destination, to Largs. I would be staying the night here. It was a hot day by Scottish standards. The heat had tired me out. After a shower, I headed off for an early dinner to The Three Reasons. It was extremely busy and sweltering hot inside. A cold lemonade was more than welcome. In that heat, it was difficult to believe I was still in Scotland. Even the fish and chips I ordered felt out of place.

After food I walked over to the promenade where I sat for a while, taking in the atmosphere. It was a busy afternoon in this seaside town. The huge Nardini Ice cream parlour was beckoning from across the road. Eventually I gave in and joined the queue.

The sun was due to set just after ten. I was tired and needed bed desperately, but the scene had already been set for what I believed would be a glorious sunset. It was too tempting to ignore. Fortunately, I had a perfect view from right in front of my accommodation at the Broom House. I was not disappointed and rewarded with one spectacular sunset.

Largs war memorial
Largs War memorial

Largs promenade
Enjoying the views from the promenade

Afternoon sun Largs
Largs afternoon


Sunset in Largs
Sunset over putting greens

Sunset in Largs
War memorial silhouette

Sunset in Largs
A couple watches the setting sun 

Sunset in Largs
Setting sun

Next morning, I left early for Greater Cumbrae. I was checking out, but did not have cash to pay the landlady. I was taken aback, when she told me to take money out of the ATM and pay her once I returned from my visit. The trust she had, is totally unheard of in most parts of the world. But then, my experiences with people in Scotland has always been unique.

I took the first ferry out while it was still quiet and did the perfect 10 miles island circuit at a leisurely pace. I was thinking of doing a second loop, but the island had started to get uncomfortable busy. I wanted to escape. The ferries approaching Greater Cumbrae were now full and the ferry terminal in Largs had a long queue building in front of it. I am glad I went early. I took the cash out and went back to the accommodation. The landlady accepted the payment casually, as if it wasn't such a big deal that I was honest. 

My return train was in the afternoon. I thought I could spend the rest of the day cycling around Largs on the coastal path, but the sun was scorching. Finally I lazed it out in the shade by the sea, sipping on multiple glasses of icy lemonade..

Sharing some photos from the perfect ten route in Greater Cumbrae. As I eventually found out, with mostly flat terrain and good paths, cycling is the best way to visit this beautiful part of Scotland.

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Greater Cumbrae
Greater Cumbrae

Millport

Millport with crocodile rock and Arran
Millport with the Crocodile rock and Arran in the distance

Millport Ayrshire Greater Cumbrae
Millport

Crocodile rock Millport
Crocodile rock close-up