Menoffagainorrhoea; Montrosian Memories

Picking up from last Thursday's post, where Aitch and I had discovered the statue of Bamse and were heading around to the south side of the channel with a thought to visit the lighthouse...

It turned out that the road took us into the ancient wee fishing enclave called Ferryden. Lined with higgledy-piggledy wee homes that were, we discovered from a third generation local, originally all single-level, and then built up to second, and some to third, levels. Proper multigenerational homes. Aitch was taken, as was I, by the pulley-system laundry drying facilities...

We found a parking spot right at the end of the road, beneath the cliff with even more higgledy-piggledy huts leaning against it. Trying to find a way up to the road leading to the lighthouse, it became clear that it was beyond me. Steep and very narrow at one end, precipitous steps at the other. Aitch did go up the steps but didn't get as far as the lighthouse - it was further out than it seemed at first! She did get some lovely photos, though, and I will share a couple here, plus more tomorrow.

Meanwhile, down by the huts, a fellow was pulling in his boat after having had a successful morning's fishing. Mackerel. Paul does this just to keep himself busy, as well as goose-herding, car maintenance, and grandad duties. He offered us a fish. He gutted and prepared it for us right there by the shore...

While Aitch was doing her solo clifftop wander, I took that fish and seasoned it, oiled it, wrapped it en papillote, and baked it in the air fryer for twenty minutes at 160' C. The meat came away from the bones like butter, and we ate it just with bread and butter. It was all we needed after our big lunch, and it was beyond delicious. That's me having my once-in-a-while break from vegetarianism!

After that scrumptious morsel, I took Aitch up to book into her accoms, then we wandered onto the main street of Montrose for her to chase a few caches. Like so many towns, there is a sense of faded grandeur. We found some little gems to keep us interested, though, and agreed it was a place we would revisit as there was so much more to explore.

I got to know Paul and Nancy quite well because Ferryden turned out to be my park-up spot for the two nights of our stay! What a fabulous wee tucked-away place. I found out that the huts were all owned, but the land belonged to the fishing boss along by the quay, to whom a rent was paid. Paul had nabbed the last available plot. Dang. I'd've been tempted. This is such a peaceful, uplifting spot. Watching the ships come and go (mainly related to the off-shore wind farms), seeing dogs and kids enjoy the water on the beach over the other side, watching the Gulls and Terns and Eider as they engaged with the currents of the South Esk... yes, industrial, but with a charm it is hard to convey. And then there are the mornings... four in the eh and emmmm... four and thirty of the eh and emmmm... five in the eh and emmmm...