Cullen Harbor Holidays

We rode a coach bus from Edinburgh to Aberdeen. Then from Aberdeen we caught a "local" bus, which runs from Aberdeen to Inverness passing through many many small towns, including Cullen, on it's way. We left Edinburgh in the afternoon so by the time the bus was wending it's way to Cullen it was dark. There were long periods between stops with no lights, like literally not a light to be seen anywhere out the window. People got on and off, and 30 minutes before our stop we were the only people on the bus.

Our driver finally signaled that we had arrived at Cullen Square (I had to ask him to tell us because they don't call out the names of the stops or anything) and we pulled up to a lone bus stop in the heart of a very small and very closed for business town on a hill slope. The town was deserted, not a soul, and hardly a light on anywhere. We hadn't eaten since the morning and I was not hopeful at our prospects of getting a meal. We wanted remote and windswept...

We walked down the hill under and old stone railway bridge and turned off the main road toward the harbor. It was low tide and by the moonlight you could see all the boats in the harbor resting on the sand. Just past the harbor on the sea side of the road was our hostel, a long stone and wood building. We walked in, hallooing, to a bare wood entryway leading to a long room. The roof was open beam and high. There were no posters advertising zany outings, no signs of any kind. No one answered. We pushed our way into a very warm and spacious kitchen (did I mention it was raining and windy outside), and were met by a very friendly, very robust woman, who informed us that she was just "a volunteer". She was sitting at the long wooden dining table with her computer. We told her there was no need to bother the owners that evening if she didn't need to and she showed us around the place.

Here was the kitchen. Here was the historic fire powered stove, which burned peat, we could cook on if it we liked too. The showers, she told us, were heated by the stove, which burned peat, so we would need to wait until the fire had been lit for several hours before taking a shower. And the peat for the stove was just out here. I was so enamored with the fact that this remote hostel in a remote Scottish town also burned peat, I exclaimed with joy, causing my companion and the Volunteer to look at me strangely. No one else was staying in the hostel so we had our own room. When we asked unhopefully about possible eateries, we were informed that the coop food store was open until ten. And what's more, the last folks staying at the hostel had left bread and butter we were welcome to. We hurried off for provisions, and returned to a warm meal of soup and bread. The hosteler popped in while we were preparing our meal and had us sign in (which consisted of signing a book which lay in the entryway).

After dinner we went off to bed in our private room. It was completely dark when the lights were out. The only sound was the sea. The room, though not cold, was cool and the blankets provided included a duvet, with fresh cover, and a thick heavy woolen blanket. I think it was the best nights sleep I've had in months.

The hostel was so unlike a hostel, more like someone's summer place by the sea. It was exactly what I was looking for, our stay was very pleasant and filled with all the delights I hope for when traveling: comfort, hospitality, funny characters, new tastes and smells and sights. It was lovely, and that is why I have written this novel about it.

The hostel

The stove

PEAT!!!!!!!

kitchen table

our room