Oh, you’re the family that’s traveling the world, right?

Yeah,
news travels fast on an island with six-hundred-something people on it.

We met Heidi as we were leaving the charming family house we stayed in for the last five days. She seemed to be waiting in her car as we finished packing up, and I apologized for keeping her waiting. Honestly, we didn’t really know when check-out time was, and we were taking our time. She said not to worry; she wasn’t in any hurry at all. So we chatted for a bit, learning about the island and the history of the house we had been staying in.

If I got the story right, the house used to belong to our host’s grandmother’s friend, and the mudroom used to be the post office that they ran together. The original owner’s granddaughter currently runs the cafe across the lane; this charming place offers up vittles and coffee while providing equal-opportunity views of the sea and pastureland sprinkled with shetland ponies and highland cattle.

Though not troubled to be kept waiting, Heidi looked concerned when she thought we were catching the ferry that morning because we would be running short of time, but we assured her we were staying for a couple more days at another house. She asked where and when we told her, she smiled and assured us it was ready for us! She had cleaned it that morning and gave us directions to get there. As I went to do one last check of the house, she said not to worry—if we left anything behind, she’d bring it to us. Now that’s something you don’t hear every day.

Tiree is a small island in the Inner Hebrides—not to be confused with the Outer Hebrides—off western Scotland’s coast. It is like an old crab’s back, flat, coarsely textured by bristly grasses and encrusted with hills like oddly shaped barnacles. To get there, you can travel by sea over the course of five hours or so, or you can get in a plane only slightly larger than the kind my children make out of paper and fly to the mainland. My son wrote in his journal that we traveled by ‘faerie’ from Oban; I didn’t correct his spelling as I should, perhaps because our time in this remote place had the feeling of being touched by magic. It was like a Neverland, where moments of childhood come out of dusty cupboards and glow like polished sea glass lamps.

Inhabited by far more sheep than people (though just as friendly), the whole island projects a sense of calm and patience that eludes description. If, in no other way, this quality is most exemplified by the fact that the whole island is covered exclusively with single-track roads. It doesn’t lack the necessary space to put in two-lane roads, merely the impetus or motivation. You drive along, periodically, though not overly often, you see another car approaching, and you signal that you’ll pull over into a passing place and let them go by. And as they do, you smile and wave. Because if it takes you an extra couple minutes to get where you are going, that’s probably going to be just fine.

No functional addressing system

When we arrived at our new lodging, our host drove across the island to meet us and show us to our front door, which was good because Tiree doesn’t seem to have a functional addressing system. Both he and Heidi assured us that it was 50 yards past the cattle grate, and then you turn right on a grassy path, and it’s the middle of three houses. However, somehow, that didn’t quite work for us, and we ended up driving in circles back and forth past the same couple of cattle grates and the same dozen houses all drawn up in the ubiquitous palette of white and grey, never quite sure which one was which.

When Mark showed up, we were very grateful, and we all sat down to chat for an hour or two over peanut butter sandwiches and Scottish strawberries. He’s not a native of the island, but 35 years later, he figures he’s pretty close. He’s traveled as many parts of the world as we have and used to work in London. But at this point, he can’t imagine a place he’d rather be than here, which I interpret as high praise for a patch of grass just above sea level a hundred miles from nowhere.

And I’m not so sure I can blame him. Those of us from big cities have these poorly articulated theories of why big cities are better than small towns, but I think they’re just that—poorly articulated theories. In Tiree, you can pop into one of the two restaurants that we managed to find, as long as you’re very careful to check their opening hours ahead of time. There seem to be a couple, maybe three places that make cappuccinos, and when you manage to find one open, it tastes all the sweeter for the stroke of luck. I guess having access to 100 fancy restaurant choices is a good thing, but maybe your life would be just as rich without it.

Maybe you’d learn how to cook 🙂

Many of us say we love big cities because of the culture; I’ve said it many times myself. But upon reflection, I’m not entirely sure what we think we mean by that. Walking past a dozen fifty-story buildings isn’t culture, it’s commerce. Larger cities have a more significant collection of museums, and that’s certainly a plus. However, we’re kidding ourselves when we claim that we visit them with any regularity. An annual trip to Washington DC, London, or Paris will suffice for a year’s museum-going, to be sure.

Of course, there is the theater, and it’s hard to picture a significant production ever traveling this far away from the centers of civilization. That is a shame, of course. But life is full of trade-offs. There is music and beauty in the view of the setting sun over the bay and the quiet whistle of the wind through your hair unsullied and undisturbed by man or machine. That’s good enough for Mark, good enough to inspire Mendelssohn’s Opus 27, and good enough for me.

I’m in a hurry and don’t know why

After a few more days, we reboarded the faerie and watched Neverland fade into the distance. Even at the edge of the horizon, it exudes an air of calm. There is a song that runs through my head sometimes…

All I really gotta do is live and die
But I’m in a hurry and don’t know why

Alabama

I’m not sure if American country music has made any headway into Tiree, more’s the pity. But perhaps they have figured out something that so many of us struggle with. Yes, some things need to get done in life, but it is seldom the case that they must be done right now. And rarely does getting them done today instead of tomorrow change the fate of the world—or even of our own lives.

I think we all need a little Tiree in our lives. We all need some slow down, not just as a break from regular life but also as part of everyday life. Let us redefine life in more relaxed terms, terms that allow for watching sheep wander past and waving to our neighbors. It’s worth noting how people value each other when there aren’t so many of them–or put another way, how we take people for granted when we are surrounded by them. Maybe an occasional meander down the beach is in order and perhaps a leisurely coffee overlooking the sea.

Questions

Please comment below

• Do you find yourself hurrying when it’s not necessary?
• Am I wrong? Is all of your hurrying necessary?
• Would your life feel empty without your various deadlines and rush?