Toscaig Pier, near Applecross, Western Scotland.

To the left, the narrow road swayed. No parking fee had to be paid On the concrete pier. In front, the wooden steps old and new, Descending to the lapping sea, came into view By the concrete pier. It seemed so quiet, perhaps rather neglected, With bricks and piles of materials collected On the concrete pier. But all this changed as the canoeists paddled in, Each face was glowing with a confident grin, By the concrete pier. A great morning they had had, no doubt. They did a roll and staggered out Onto the concrete pier. A fishing boat came in, happily chugging, And became an attraction with people talking On the concrete pier. The screeching sea birds were its escort And expecting to be fed, I thought, Just off the concrete pier. Not long after from the yacht in the harbour, Four men came clambering ashore and then shortly after Walked from the concrete pier. Several cars and vans came and went As if by magic they had been sent To park on the concrete pier. But the magic was missing when we were fishing No fish were caught and they weren't even biting! Off the concrete pier. The landscape was lovely with various greens, browns and greys. Across the harbour, at the water's edge, were there some caves Seen from the concrete pier? The mountains around were tickled by racing clouds of white. The ebbing tide like diamonds gave a sparkling, shimmering light By the concrete pier. The white and grey cottages really completed the view. Gradually, its tranquil appeal just simply grew and grew As my family and I stood on the concrete pier. Then driving away, I glanced back with a smile. After all, I had shared its existence for a while. May nature be kind to this concrete pier. Some photographs can be seen on http://www.users.globalnet.co.uk/~jsspjCastaway 2000 on BBC TV. 01/01/01 The very emotional farewell to Taransay reminded me of my sad farewell to Applecross. Written August 14th, 1995 © on Mar 14 2002 08:16 AM PST   18 • 0 • 10