Days 4–7: The Rain Goddess, The Land of Temptation, and The Great Cunard Chase

By Paul Bryers, June 18, 2026

The final few days on Coll were, I am obliged to report, unremarkable.

Damn you, Mariamman!

For the uninitiated: Mariamman is the South Indian goddess of rain, among other responsibilities. How she came to take up residence over a small Hebridean island in early summer I cannot say – but take it up she did, and she settled in with the contentment of a guest who has located the good whisky and intends to stay for it.

The rain came down for two days. Heavy. Proper heavy, no mibbies – the variety that arrives horizontally and requests no permission.

We laughed.

What else is one to do?

This is the Highlands and Islands. One does not come here for the meteorological dependability. One comes for the scenery, the family, and – it transpires – the rain.

And still: best of the Highlands and Islands and all that. We enjoyed ourselves regardless, this being both the family tradition and, frankly, the only option on the table.

We tried out the new restaurant – The Urchin – excellent fresh see food, meat pies and a variety of freshly foraged seaweeds. The chef has come from his successful restaurant on Isle of Canna.

Between downpours, I looked at a couple of land plots. Both spectacular. One with planning permission in principle…..

the other without – as yet….

I am considering them. I am, however, equally conscious that two years of Law School are bearing down upon me at speed, and that the acquisition of a Hebridean building plot may not be the ideal accompaniment to first-year property law.

So I am thinking. And waiting.

I shall allow that sentence to sit unaccompanied for a moment, because those who know me will recognise its rarity. Thinking. And waiting. An unusual situation for me, and one I am observing in myself with a degree of scientific interest.

When the time finally came to leave, the weather – with the exquisite comic timing for which Scotland is justly celebrated – turned hot and sunny.

We laughed.

We shared the boat home with a wedding party. Some sixty guests, very posh, drawn from Edinburgh and England, turned out to a standard rarely witnessed on a CalMac sailing. And among the guests were – gloriously, unmistakably – one Glasgow couple – red hair, smiling, impossible to understand. I am fairly confident they were having the most fun of anyone aboard.

The sail back to Oban was beautiful. Genuinely so. Calm water, the islands sliding past, the whole company in good spirits.

And then: drama!

At one point we were pursued across the water by none other than Cunard’s Queen Anne – twelve decks, 3000 guests, 1501 crew -bearing down with intent. I am pleased to report that we were not caught. We lost her. She is a naughty one, that Anne.

And so concludes another annual pilgrimage to Coll.

We arrived five, became three; losing two of the three to The Disaster before the first afternoon was out.

At the hotel, we endured dry venison and staff who had clearly left their personalities on the mainland.

At the Urchin we had a excellent fair.

We weathered two days of a borrowed Hindu rain goddess.

We were tempted by land we have wisely – for now – declined to buy.

And we outran a Cunard liner on the way home.

A good week, by any honest reckoning.
Would I return?

Reader, we have already booked next year; and, Reader, I am conscious of those land plots. Draw your own conclusions.