A long drive today, through Tarbert up to the Isle of Lewis, and coming back via the standing stones at Calanais. I stopped off in Tarbert and called in at a craft sale, picking up a hand-knit scarf (about 8ft long!) and a key-ring made of driftwood.
The drive was made even longer by me getting distracted by Women's Hour on the radio, and ending up in Stornoway by mistake! The short-cut across the middle of the island on the Pentland Road, to get back on track was fantastic - a tiny road over the moors, and I think I saw a hen harrier flying low over a field - a large, grey bird of prey.
Called in at the Blue Pig studio and cafe, for tea and home made scones, and chatted with the artist-owner, who used to have a Romahome! I bought a lovely picture of oyster-catchers that was made by his wife.
On to Gearrannan blackhouse village, which had open houses showing how the inhabitants would have lived, but most of them were now converted to holiday homes. Lovely buildings but crikey you would be isolated here - just you and the Atlantic.
On to the stones, which were at the top of a steep hill. I decided to be anti-social and instead of going in to the visitor's centre, I drove up the hill and parked right next to the stones.
From the top of the hill you could look out over a bay and I saw a pod of dolphins down there in the distance.
I stayed on the eastern side of the island that night, at Lickisto. The landscape was completely different - low and bleak, almost lunar landscapes, with none of the lush grass or sandy beaches of the western side. Apparently in the clearances the poor were pushed on to the eastern side, and how they made a living I do not know.
The drive was made even longer by me getting distracted by Women's Hour on the radio, and ending up in Stornoway by mistake! The short-cut across the middle of the island on the Pentland Road, to get back on track was fantastic - a tiny road over the moors, and I think I saw a hen harrier flying low over a field - a large, grey bird of prey.
Called in at the Blue Pig studio and cafe, for tea and home made scones, and chatted with the artist-owner, who used to have a Romahome! I bought a lovely picture of oyster-catchers that was made by his wife.
On to Gearrannan blackhouse village, which had open houses showing how the inhabitants would have lived, but most of them were now converted to holiday homes. Lovely buildings but crikey you would be isolated here - just you and the Atlantic.
On to the stones, which were at the top of a steep hill. I decided to be anti-social and instead of going in to the visitor's centre, I drove up the hill and parked right next to the stones. 
From the top of the hill you could look out over a bay and I saw a pod of dolphins down there in the distance.
I stayed on the eastern side of the island that night, at Lickisto. The landscape was completely different - low and bleak, almost lunar landscapes, with none of the lush grass or sandy beaches of the western side. Apparently in the clearances the poor were pushed on to the eastern side, and how they made a living I do not know. 
The site was beautiful, you could walk down to the rocky shore through lush gardens with chickens running through and little scattered tent pitches. There are yurts to stay in and blackhouse communal buildings for cooking, showering and sitting on big squishy sofas.
Unfortunately the van pitches aren't so attractive! We're slightly squished in at the top of the site with little privacy, but it obviously attracts the more individual campers! And the view was lovely.
