Our Story - Jura Pilgrimage 2017

Jura Pilgrimage 2017

The following is an extract from Wil Hurst's report on the Jura Pilgrimage which appears in Burning Issue Super Deluxe;

While The 400 were having the time of their lives in Liverpool, four pilgrims where battling through the long wet grass and swamps, being eaten alive by 130 specie of midge and wearing out their sodden feet, in search of the fabled Boathouse. With its standing stones and ancient burial places Jura is a mythical place; it was visited by Ulysses during his Odyssey; it is home to graves of the Knights Templar; on its remote northern shore is Barnhill where, George Orwell, close to death and beset by creative demons, wrote feverishly in his race to finish 1984; it was on Jura the KLF burnt a wicker man ; and, of course, Jura was where the K Foundation burnt a million pounds.

It’s a long trek from Welwyn Garden City to Tayvallich, via Nottingham and Alloa, but The Holder of The Staff has no choice in these matters, he is at The Staff’s bidding. After hours of driving we parked up in Tayvallich and transferred our camping gear to the ferry. There were no other passengers so the ferryman was keen to leave once we got there. His little boat bounced across the water at speed, the ferryman knew that he had to get us there ASAP. Timetabled for an hour, the journey took three quarters. A seal (or was it a mermaid) was swimming in the bay. It saw us arrive and left. We set up camp on the lawns of the Jura Hotel. There was a large welcoming committee of local midges and it was starting to rain. [All Hail the Staff! x2]

Once we had pitched camp we went for a little look around Craighouse. We had soon seen the Jura Hotel, the Jura distillery and the village hall where Bill and Jimmy first showed their film.

Back at the campsite we ate chilli, a pilgrimage first night tradition. A stag wandered along the coast and up into the camp field. It was cautious of us but didn’t run away. After a bit the midges said “go to the bar”, it seemed like a good idea. There is a large painting on the wall in the Jura Hotel bar, a mad scene with a lot of colourful characters including a stag standing at a crowded bar and a man with a shotgun, taking aim. We ordered some local beers; one had an aftertaste like camp coffee. On returning to our camp we tried to be sociable but the midges drove us to retire early. I went to sleep to the sound of hand claps as midges that had penetrated tents discovered their mistake.

Next morning was showery, the Paps where in cloud. There had been a plan to climb one of them but that had been ditched as it looked like a serious hike and could detract from the business of the 23rd. After breakfast we went for a walk out of the village. There were little piles of stones dotted about this part of the coast. One, with flowers, definitely looked like a memorial, the rest ranged from looking like kids creations to something more spiritual. There was also a family of swans gliding across the sea. None of us had seen Swans on salt water before.

We walked back to Craighouse for lunch. We called in the Distillery shop for a browse. There were whiskies of different ages. One was 22 years old, tantalisingly close. The Holder of The Staff [All Hail the Staff!] asked if there was a 23 year old whiskey. No, but the 22 year old was bottled last year, so it is now 23 years old! It was also a limited edition and cost £120 a bottle!

After lunch we went to find the old cemetery. We wanted to look for the Knights Templar graves we had heard were there. We walked inland, away from the coast and towards the Paps, which looked grey and foreboding. The cemetery had long grass that was very wet. Our boots and feet got sodden. There were gravestones ancient and modern. Some lay flat and were so weather-worn that we couldn’t read anything on them. The Templar graves must have been amongst them. The graveyard also contain the ‘Campbell Mausoleum’ - the burial place of the Campbell Clan who controlled Jura from the early 1600s until 1938, when the last Campbell left the island.

AUGUST 23rd 2017 started with a storm. I woke to the sound of rain hammering on the tent. Then everything lit up for a moment. Shortly after there was a thunderclap. I checked the time, it was 2:30. I lay for a while listening to the rain and thunder while the tent was lit by the flashes of lightening. After a bit the storm passed, I got out of the tent, occasional flashes out at sea showed where the storm was. I went back to my sleeping bag. When I woke the next morning it was a sunny day.

We knew the Boathouse was in the grounds of Jura House, which was now owned by an Australian hedge fund wizard. He was building a luxury golf course and apparently was having the Boathouse done up as a club house....(cont)

To read the full article buy the Burning Issue SUPER DELUXE magazine.