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Rising at 5:55 am, the sun was shining and a cuckoo calling, a blackbird singing while others filled in a background of twittering, I sat in the open doorway of the van, basking in the warmth of the sun’s rays. By 6:30 am I was eating my muesli and Malt-Wheats with milk and a cup of tea. Last evening, I had heard Radio Scotland’s forecast – “Lowering cloud on the high ground, loss of visibility, many showers throughout the morning ‘organising themselves’ into continuous and persistent heavy rain throughout the afternoon.” The campsite owner had heard a completely different forecast of improving weather. Thus, I was looking forward to the second while being prepared for the first. The van roof was still down, but I had it in mind to put it up on my return if it was fine; dry it and put it down again for the night. On Wednesday I wanted to drive off early without contending with packing down a wet roof.
Again, I was unnerved catching a bus. I was at the Siabost bus stop at 7:20 am ready for the 7:30 am Stornaway bus. At 7:35 am, the 7:25 am local bus that connects up and down the local lanes came by. At 7:40 am, a big bus labelled “Stornaway” came. I flagged it down but the driver informed me that his bus was the one that goes via Barabhas, then he turned it around and went back to Barabhas. “Another big silver bus will come.”
Meanwhile another small bus overtook, sweeping past – so I concluded it wasn’t that one. At 7:45 am the right bus did come – yes it was the 7:30 am bus. However, when it got to Tolsta a’ Chaolais it had to wait for the local up-and-down-the-side-roads minibus to link up with it at 8:00 am. In my mind I envisage large and small buses weaving a crazy dance, meeting at intervals like the two threads in a sewing machine. Alighting at Gearraidh na h-Aibhne at 8:15 am, with 95% cloud cover, rain in the hills moving across with a 20-mph wind, I set off gently north-west along the road. By 8:25 am it was spitting with rain. I put on my over-trousers and swapped my sun-hat to a peaked cap with my hood up. By 8:30 it was hard driving rain from my left and I could feel a cold dribble of water trickling down my right leg - a cold dribble! - a leak in the overtrousers. I wondered about a temporary seam seal repair with Copydex and a McNett seam-grip repair at home.
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| Calanais Standing Stones 1 |
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| Calanais Standing Stones 1 |
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| A derelict Calanais cottage |
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| Leaving Calanais, looking north |
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| A derelict Breascleit cottage |
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| Port a Choail, Tolastadh a’ Chaolais |
This made a pretty diversion around to a sea inlet, then along the length of a small inland loch headed by dainty islands decorated with rhododendrons in pink and purple flower, heather to flower later and small pine trees. Turning sharp left at the end of the loch (197387), I followed the lane doubling back but rising to follow the left side of a hill. At a corner in the lane (389195) a grass track leads straight ahead. A brown sign “Path to Carloway Village 1 mile” points the way. I followed this well drained path with its well drained gravel and stone base covered in a thin layer of grass. It made very comfortable walking (or cycling) with pleasant views behind to the SSW, so, as usual, its best not to be so intent on the way ahead as to miss the views all around, including directly behind. Nearing the road, 11:50 am, I was walking alongside Loch an Dunain, the water looking very black with three tufted ducks lazily cruising, a high trilling warbling song, sounding like the first half of a wren’s song, and while I wondered what it was, a wren flew past me, found a perch and gave the whole song with repetitions as its encores. It only faded as I moved further and further away, while the sound of a cuckoo faded in, continuing until I reached Carloway. I searched for a more comfortable stride length and cadence – my leg as a pendulum moving at its natural frequency, adjusting my foot angle to minimise left foot, mid-toe pain and arch pain – smooth and steady.
Reaching the turning to Na Gearrannan and the Black House Museum, I considered for a moment following the road rather than walking around the coast. Obviously, the road would have been shorter and easier, but having reached this point by 12.35 am, I assessed that I would manage the distance along the coast, the weather was now fair and the scenery would be better. I was suffering discomfort where the insole edge finished short of the stretched leather on the side of the left boot – my speading feet seemingly wider than the insole - the step-edge of the insole digging into my foot. Around 1 pm, rain was blowing in from the south-west; I stopped for a drink and half a sandwich, but with nowhere to sit, I ate the remaining half while walking.
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