Rain is here at any time in Ardnamurchan
then the sun – and then the clouds
and then rain is here again.

Rain is here at any time in Ardnamurchan
then the sun – and then the clouds
and then rain is here again.
My dear wife Susan the photographer at work, taken by this photographer at work, at Loch Sunart on the Ardnamurchan peninsula – western highlands of Scotland.
Happy memories of our dear dog Winnie on a stunning early morning in our tropical garden in Durban, South Africa.
Summer evening nestling safely below the mountains of Morvern at loch Sunart after a day sailing amongst all this beauty.
Through the mountains, to the far wild west of the highlands, runs the rail line to Mallaig, a gateway to the western isles.
As it passes through the tunnels in these wild mountains, but before it runs along the loch that lies between them, a strange and little known event occurs.
Yes, you will see the train appear again, but not its magical counterpart that veers off into the fastness of the wilderness and into the dimension of the sidhe, making its way to Hogwarts.
For this is the real Harry Potter Line.
Returning home to the western highlands from Edinburgh, I crossed a windy Ranoch moor at sunset in gloomy sleet with little visibility.
But, as I reached the entrance to Glencoe, the sky opened briefly and all was transformed.
Before me a pyramid of dramatic power appeared, as if the sidhe had cast a spell allowing me just enough time to take the shot.
And then with a wave of a wand made of howling wind – All was gone!
We spent this stunning first day of winter taking unforgettable photos around where we live on the Ardnamurchan peninsula in the western highlands of Scotland.
We ended off with this golden sunset, taken from where Glenborrodale Castle looks out over loch Sunart.
We were driving home from foraging for wild mushrooms in the ancient forest
We had to drive around Ben Hiant which is on the most westerly peninsula
of Britain in the highlands of Scotland, guarding the entrance to Loch Sunart
It was the night before the blood moon eclipse.
And then the magic moon arose over the enchanted mountain, Ben Hiant
(Gaelic for enchanted mountain)
Pure magic in a mystical magical place
My wife Susan and I were walking high up on the mountain behind our house in Ardnamurchan.
It is in the western highlands of Scotland, looking out over loch Sunart.
We were checking our water supply, which is from a strong stream about half way up from the top.
Nobody comes up here except for the few people who live in this remote area, so the water is pristine.
The distillery a few miles away uses water from a similar source due to its purity.
This is one of the blessings of the wild and remote western highlands.
We had a very cold swim in this lovely natural pool under the waterfall a few hundred metres upstream.
Followed by a picnic on the grass next to the pool.
Wonderful fun.
BUT, then we found tiny ticks on our legs. Thirty or so on Susan’s bare legs.
We spent many years in Africa and are no stranger to all types of ticks.
The problem is here in this seemingly peaceful place where the red deer roam, they drop ticks.
These local little devils carry Lymes desease, which is no joke and not found in Africa to my knowledge.
They have a friend, the mighty scottish midge, who attacks in great numbers like the highland warriors of old.
So between them they keep us humans at bay and protect their mountains.
However it is all worth it.
Living here is magical, so we have come to terms with the wild.
Loch Linnhe is the starting point of the great glen in Western Scotland which ends at loch Ness and Inverness.
Loch Linnhe runs inland for miles from the open Atlantic ocean, past the isle of Mull and on to Fort Willam at the foot of Ben Nevis, the highest mountain in Britain.
On route and opposite the isle of Mull is the wild and virtually uninhabited land of Morvern and its mysterious mountains.
You can only explore them on foot, but it is a serious undertaking and only for the true explorer.
The western highlands of Scotland are magnificent and truly photogenic.
Incredible relationship between our dna, fractals and the golden ratio.
Seems very well planned to me, begging the question of random evolution.
How did you go bankrupt?
Two ways. Gradually but then suddenly’.
These two lines, which appear in the Ernest Hemingway-novel ‘The Sun Also Rises’, encapsulate, for me at least, what is slowly but surely unfolding in South Africa.
We are in the ‘slowly at first’-phase of going bankrupt as a country, but at a later stage, not too far away, will we reach the ‘suddenly’ part of running out of cash. Some would say we’ve already reached that point.
The #FeesMustFall student unrest we witnessed last week at most of our campuses, Parliament and even at the Union Buildings, are seemingly unrelated symptoms of a much greater build-up of steam boiling under the surface. These sporadic and isolated incidents include the labour uprising and massacre at Marikana in 2012, the ongoing e-tolls boycott and several hundred incidents of social unrest around water, electricity and the provision of basic services.
But related they are and there is more to come.
For me they represent small but ever-growing fissures in the ground under our feet that are opening up as the financial pressures – brought about by years of economic mismanagement, corruption, lack of governance and government arrogance, to name just a few – build up steam.
What the end of the commodity cycle means
These pressures were still manageable when the commodity prices were in full bloom and the economy was growing at around 5%, prior to the Great Financial Crisis. Government revenue was pouring in, creating the illusion of a cash-flow that forever rises into the future. Ah, such bliss….
Those days now seem so far away. The commodity cycle peaked in about October 2011; less than a year later the first to feel the squeeze were the mine workers at the platinum mines who went on strike demanding an adjustment to their basic wages. They were met with a hail of bullets leaving 37 dead.
The e-toll saga in Gauteng is nothing else but a manifestation of middle-class anger directed at the financial squeeze they find themselves in. By itself e-tolls are not a substantial cost, but when taken into consideration with above-average increases in land taxes, medical aid fees, school fees, electricity and everything else, it becomes the proverbial last straw on the camel’s back. With e-tolls you have a choice to pay or not pay; that therefore became the weakest fissure and out burst the steam.
If government does not realise this and continues on its misguided current path, the pressures are bound to build up to a bursting point of volcanic proportions.
It also is a manifestation of the utter powerlessness experienced by middle-class voters who are being squeezed by rising taxes, levies, fees, medical aid contributions, cost of living and a host of other factors. There is a rage building up under normally placid and law-abiding taxpayers.
Mugged by a blue light gang
Let me give you a small example of what I’m talking about. I’m certain many will relate to this.
The other day, in rush-hour traffic near Sandton on the M1 North going to Pretoria, I sat in bumper-to-bumper traffic, when behind me one of our modern-day curses under the ANC government loomed large in my rear-view mirror: a blue light convoy, accompanied by about five JMPD vehicles.
Everyone was threatened, cajoled, sworn at and pushed aside as the convey came screaming past, sirens blaring. Woe betide anyone who did not react fast enough in the eyes of the gun-toting JMPD-traffic cops, so that the big and very important man/woman of ANC could come through. I watched with horror as the procession continued in the direction of Pretoria.
It left me breathless with an impotent rage and yet we as taxpaying citizens can do absolutely nothing about it. I looked at the faces of the motorists around me, black and white, and the same rage was clearly visible.
It may be an insignificant incident in the greater scheme of things, but this is the way an increasing number of middle-class taxpayers in the private sector are starting to feel about the government. For it is they who are feeling the economic pinch the hardest.
Government workers now the rich and privileged
Middle-class taxpayers in government have been earning salary increases at a rate of inflation plus 3% for many year now and have been promised increases of the same for the next three years. A cushy job in government is now the surest way to middle-class wealth for most South Africans. Much of that is the consequence of cadre deployment, among other things. Merit seemingly counts for very little in the greater scheme of things. Such is the power of the civil service that National Treasury had to allocate money from its contingency reserves – emergency money in other words – to satisfy the demands of government workers.
Middle-class taxpayers are not, generally, beating inflation with their salary increases. This can already be seen in new motor car sales, home sizes, travel and even medical aid membership – they are all shrinking. Middle class SA is under a tremendous amount of pressure. Over the weekend the Lever Institute at the University of Cape Town confirmed this trend.
As it is, according to economist Mike Schüssler, the average salary in government is now R241 000 per annum versus R196 000 per annum in the private sector. The bloated government salary bill lies at the heart of much of our financial problems at the moment. And what are we getting in exchange? Surly, sloppy service with attitude and if you can’t do your job, you employ a consultant.
There was a time that a government employee would accept a lesser salary (relative to the private sector), in exchange for job security, medical aid, housing allowance and a generous pension fund. It was in the private sector where you would make the big bucks but where you could also lose your job and/or business if things went pear-shaped.
In the current financial year SA will spend R550 billion on the salaries of all civil servants from local to national government, more than half of the four major taxes central government receives, namely VAT, personal income tax, company tax and fuel taxes.
People often ask me what a fiscal cliff is. Just open your eyes and observe. We are busy storming at one right now. A fiscal cliff is when your expenses keep on rising but your income suddenly drops away, leaving you with a massive debt to service.
The mystery of the 36 000 ghost workers
Our media is barely scratching the surface when it comes to the thievery and gross incompetence at local government level. All the North West municipalities, for instance, are under administration. It has become so common that reports of theft and maladministration do not even receive a mention anymore.
Last month trade union Solidarity released a report on the ‘ghost workers’ of the North West province, highlighting that at least 36 000 ghost employees have been drawing a combined amount of R19 billion in salaries in this province alone. R19 billion! This report received barely a mention in the media and one battles to find any discussion on it.
I feel like shouting: There’s the money for #FeesMustFall!
The education fee shortfall shouldn’t cost anyone a thing. Just stop the thieving and corruption and you have all the money for anyone who qualifies to go to university.
But in the end government will find someone else to blame: the private sector, the ‘privileged’ whites, the colonialists or the foreigners.
Government spending will be higher next year; so too the budget deficit, the wage bill as well as interest payments on government debt.
And all the time those pesky foreigners, the foreign debt ratings agencies, are waiting and watching.
Ratings agencies… such a western thing.
Magnus Heystek | 28 October 2015 00:01