Day Eight--Golf anyone?

As I can't write every day, this post is post-dated for Thursday, September 6, 2007. Pictures will follow...
We spent the morning at Planasker. We've really begun to feel at home here so we decided that, since we had planned to spend the whole of the afternoon in Harris and then dinner at Scarista House in Scarista, we would take it easy this morning, sleep in till 9:30, breakfast late, and then leave later. Leaving Marbig today for South Harris and its white sandy beaches we remarked that there really are no police, fire departments, emergency services or pharmacies in any village--only in the large towns, of which there are only two here--Stornoway and Tarbert. I guess you have to hope you never need them. So we sped down to Harris, this time getting to see the countryside down to Tarbert in light in stead of fog. Out of Tarbert we came upon a sign for the Scottish Episcopal Church-- which was the first Episcopal association of the Anglicans--which stepped out to offer an Episcopal charter to the Americans centuries ago. It's the first Episcopal church I've seen since being in Scotland--all we've seen thus far are Free Church Presbyterian churches. We snapped a shot and headed south to Luskentyre to see the famous white sands everyone speaks of. We were really shocked to see that the sands are indeed white--whiter than most sand we've seen--and that the place was gorgeous, with turquoise waters and pretty grassy dunes. It was, by all accounts, the complete opposite of the other side of the island and we were so excited to see this new place. We took the road to tis end, passing only a handful of lovely little cottages along our way. At a small car park we took the trail over the dune to the sea beyond and stretched our legs with a nice walk. But then we remembered we were very hungry and decided to hea d out again, this time in search of sustencance. We had remembered seeing a sign a few miles back for the SKOON Art Cafe, so we searched it out and found ourselves back on the other side of the island. Down a single track, winding road we came upon the cafre, and being thta it was crowded we sat and waited. In the meantime we checked out the really awful paintings hanging on the walls. It's a great place for a quick bite--sandwiched or soups or tea and desserts. Just forget you saw the paintings. We ate fast and drove like the wind. Driving out the sun was peeking through. It's so rocky on this side of the island that the old stone houses blend into the landscape. All around are skeletons of old houses with no roofs or windows. Just piles of rocks and heather growing on them. We decided that we'd listen to pour flook music CD--a mix of traditional and modern rhythms with lots of Scottish tin penny whistle and acoustic guitar. it's upbeat and seems to fit this landscape perfecctly. Another observation we've made today is that all the dogs here are black and white sheep dogs--resembling the Australian sheep dog. They are numerous, and everyone seems to have them. We always think we're seeing the same dog over and over, but i think they are just pretty much the only breed in the islands. Or so its seems. We wound ourselves down to Rodel at the foot of Harris where we stopped for St. Clements Church--built in 1549 and restored many times, it has been attributed to MacLeod of Harris. It is a non-working church held by the Trust (aka Scottish National Trust), but it houses three burial statues--one which is the most compete medieval sculpture in the Western Isles. It's a prostrate burial sculpture. I think people must have been really short back then, because their resemblances are short and all the door ways are short. It seems the church was little in use, if ever, and does not seem to have been built on a previous celtic site (like lots of other churches of its time). It is perched on a lovely spot at the southern tip of Harris, so when we left there we rounded out the island where the coast opens out of the rocky landscape to rolling grassy hills until finally we reached the west side of the island where the landscape changed dramatically....again. We're not talking about that many miles here, and there is so much change that happens in so little distance. In two seconds we were back in what looked like a very different world with white sandy beaches and sun. Yes, sun. Lots of it. So we pulled into Scarista--really just a sleepy little holiday village--and Dave spotted a golf course. The only one we've noticed so far--amazingly enough (this is Scotland, right?). Well, this was a very scaled down golf club. Dave really wanted to pass the time by playing 9 holes (as this was only a 9 hole course) of golf, so I obliged him and we went down to the "club house" (again, I use this wod loosley--really a converted train car) and "rented" gold clubs and paid the green fee in the honesty box (I kid you not). But since no one was there we decided to make the course ours. Now, let it be known that we are not golfers. But being that we were the only ones there and being that the outdoors were so enjoyable today (and David got some wild hare of an idea to play!), we decided to "pretend" we played and had a great time. Seriously enough, we did have some great long drives, and played remarkably well--most of the time. There were those few times we looked quite foolish. Really foolish. Just us two yanks making light of their very serious sport. It took us a little under two hours to play, then we headed over to Scarista House were we were to dine at 7:30. Scarista House was opened by Alison Johnson and her husband. She wrote a famous book about living in Harris entitled A House By The Shore. There's excerpts of it in The Road North. She sold Scarista House in the 90s I think, and I must say it's in need of a face lift. It's been able to live on its prestige and location for a long time. But for the cost to stay there per night you'd expect a bit more. It is a lovely old house though, in a perfectly situated location overlooking the sea with hilly fields of green all around. After a quick peek around they let us change our clothes and freshen up for dinner. Then we just hung out in the drawing room for a while and had tea and Dave read while I made drawings of local plant life (I like to paint the flowers from places I visit). Around 7 or 7:30 others joined us in the drawing room and everyone talked and had drinks before dinner. There were 5 couples gathered, all excepting us were either Brit or Scot. We had great banter and the conversation varied. I think we had enjoyed each other so much we had hoped we'd eat dinner together at the same table. But they had us in two separate rooms, and at different tables. Halfway through the meal we all started talking to each other again as if we were at the same table. It was enjoyable. Dinner, however, was less so--mainly because we had to do the "undressing" of our small local lobsters, here called Langoustines. I'm not kidding, they brought a plate full of them to us and without metal claw crackers had to do it with our hands. Not bad if you are expecting this. But this is a set dinner as it changes nightly and is whatever you get. For the cost they should have been cracked for us. But I'm digressing now. Let's just say I wasn't expecting that out of a fancy dinner. The conversation salvaged the meal. After dinner we all returned again to the drawing room for coffee and had a wonderful time discussing the differences in sport in the US and in the UK. I found out about a game I never knew of called Shinty--originated in Ireland, but a very celtic game. It's a kind of very violent field hockey for men. Seems to be popular here. One of the very kindly older Scot women asked me if I'd had Haggis and if I'd liked it. She seemed to REALLY want us to like it, and I assured her we'd had it and liked it, which seemed to please her. We were hesitant to leave such a lively gathering, but being that it was now nearing 10:30pm, we knew we had a long journey home to Lewis (over an hour north). So we headed off once more--this time in the dark. It was our first night to drive on single lane roads in complete darkness. Luckily it was a crystal clear night, so it made it easy to get back to Marbig. Had we had fog I'm afraid it would have taken us quite a few hours to return. Single lane roads in the dark in fog would really be a nightmare--cars coming head on towards you. Yikes. We had been warned though that sheep like to sleep on the road at night, particularly when it's a warm night and the midges are out. Being on the road limits midge exposure (midges like the moors). So sure enough sheep after sheep just lay themselves in the middle of the road for sleep. It was comical. Some of them move and some don't. Tells you how stupid sheep are. Anyway, we made it back and headed for bed.