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.

Day Seven--Searching for the White Sands

This post is post-dated for Wednesday, September 5, 2007.

Planasker school house was the original school house for all levels in these parts. In the 1960s it was shut and had since fallen derelict. But thanks to Martin and heather Malcolm, Planasker is now a thriving house and bed and breakfast. Martin noted that the whole of the place was a ruin when he spotted it and through many years they've been able to make it look as it was always inhabited. It's a lovely place now, with big views out to the loch and hills. It seems they have spared no expense to make this home welcoming and homey. Currently there is only one room for hire, so we had the whole of the bed and breakfast side to ourselves. it was like holiday in our own cottage, as the guest quarters are expansive with a drawing room, dining room, a library/study, and a loft area, not to forget the bedroom and bath. I highly recommend this lovely bed and breakfast if you ever find yourself in need of respite and peace in the south lochs of Lewis. Heather and Malcolm prepare fabulous breakfasts and scrumptuous dinners. This morning we had a most unusal grapefruit prepared soaking the grapefruit half over night in Heather honey (honey infused with the Heather flower), then grilled face up in the broiler. It's warm and delicious. It was a divine concotion, and though outstanding, she has prepared us quite a few rivals to it! Heather grew up in Stornoway on Lewis, and Martin in Glasgow. They decided to move back here, which she said was unexpected. Most Hebridean native youth leave for the "bright lights" of the city and never return. Marbig is set in a strangely lunar landscape. It feels like entering another world, so unlike what we are used to. The great lumpy earth is scratched to the bone revealing bald rocks with tough green and Heather splotches bordering them. In these parts, as in most of the islands, fishing and crofting are still alive. Marbig is more of a fishing village, but raising sheep and farming hay and peat the traditional way are done throughout the isles. Peat is farmed in a most unusal way, by digging down a foot or so into the earth and pulling out the peaty ground in rectangular lumps. This will continue on a straight path and when the grassy earth grows back over the exposed earth, it will scar the earth with a straight lip which appears to be a "step" in the earth. Lewis itself is an expansive island, but Heather seems to think the total inhabitants of all the islands is around 20,000. We think our home town is guite small with a toatl county wide population of around 50,000, but she was shocked to know we came from such a place with so many people. Both Lewis and Harris are known for their famous white sand beaches not ulike the Caribbean. On a clear day there the sea is turquoise and calm and clear and the sand sparkling white. it's a most unusual sight for Scotland, but wholly enjoyable. The west side of both islands is where you'll find the sandy beaches. In fact, Lewis has come to be synonymous with surfing. Believe it or not, die hard surfers find Lewis has some of the best waves in Europe. The other side of Harris and Lewis, the east sides, are rocky and unearthly. Dave had the same experience upon viewing the landscape here as he did when he first saw Joshua Tree in college. Both are strange and lunar and enchanting. Today is a warm rainy day. Clouds again fill the sky, so we head out for Stornoway to buy Harris Tweed at the Kenneth MacKenzie Factory Store out towards the airport. In a small part of the factory they keep the "remnants" of larger orders and sell them to the public. There were 4 rows of floor to ceiling bolts and remnants of tweed, and I was in fabric heaven. I told Dave that if he spent money on whiskey I got to spend money on tweed--and so I did. We bought so much we had to go into town to buy a bag to ship back with us to the states. There are so many variations in color and pattern of tweed. Harris is renowned the world over as THE place to get tweed. Tweed makers in Harris still make tweed the old fashioned way in their homes. Each Harris Tweed earns the right to don the Harris Orb label, which ensure the tweed has indeed been created by hand in Harris. Some of the tweeds we bought were very old, made years ago, but they looked new to us. I like to buy things with history to them and things made by hand. It's the personal touch so lost today in a mechanized technologically advanced industrial world. There is still something comforting about someone deciding to begin a new fabric without use of a manufacturing plant. Since most tweed comes from here, I was in heaven to find tweeds that in the US Ralph Lauren would have been marked up to extraordinary expense. In fact, the salesman showed me where they keep their Ralph Lauren tweeds. We ended up spending a good part of the day here, so by the time we left we were tired and decided to head back for a nap and some tea. It reminded us we are on vacation and can relax more than we do anything else. So back we headed. On the way we discussed the unfortunate news that the new owner of the Kenneth MacKenzie factory was changing the way tweed was done on the islands by limiting production to about 4 different patterns. The salesman had told us his plans affected everyone in the industry, and as such many of these lovely patterns that fill the factory store will never be seen again. Tweed is not as in demand as it once was as it's been in decline since the early 90s. Not to mention that in the US people think it's too expensive. So by limiting tweed production to 4 patterns the new owner will ensure the longevity of the patterns in suits and jackets. It's a sad turn of events, really, when an industry begins to die out. We got back and had a lovely afternoon reading and napping. We walked around Marbig a bit. I kept thinking of something I had read about Marbig--that they once had a "seer" in this town who could forecast tragedy--and he was always correct. In a town this small, he wasn't the guy you wanted to run into around the village! We came back to sit by a roaring fire. Heather served us a 3 course dinner about 7:30 and we stayed up to have our coffee and watch two Sherlock Holmes mysteries by the fireside. Being as the two stories were set in Scotland, it made it all the more an enjoyable evening. Today I had read in The Road North an excerpt about Lewis by Bettina Selby where she rightly refers to Lewis as "a marvelous but fragile world on the edge of a wild ocean."
It does seem a fragile world and the ocean is always out there to remind me that its fickle temperment has ruled these people's live for centuries.

Day Six--Over the sea we'll go to the Hebrides

As I was unable to post this yesterday, this is post-dated for Tuesday, September 4, 2007. Pictures to post later.
I stopped counting Land Rovers days ago. there are so many here. And rightly so. If you need on e anywhere, this is the place. the Defender is Dave's favorite, so he's been eyeing every unusual one he's nver seen in America--like the truck style Defender that has a hard top you can attach on the truck bed to make it into an SUV. Today after check out we headed north towards Uig on the Totternish peninsular--our last stop until catching the ferry for the Hebrides at 5:30 pm. We wished well to our fine hostess, Anne Houston, at Toravaig house and decided to make our first stop an art exhibition by Glasgow artist Pam Carter just up the road. Her work is superb and she really has a way of using oil paints to draw out the beauty of a place. They are pricey by our standards--those being Americans with a declining dollar--but I'm sure for natives or Europeans they are well priced. One painting cuaght my eye of a dark foreboding sky and glowing white traditional homes in the foreground. It's a scene repeated here often when the sun comes out to bless a small bit of land with its rays while darkness looms all around. It's a magical moment and she caught it so well. This got us talking with the art gallery owners about the tradition of the white houses here. It seems that in the oldest days of these homes, the paint was made of a mixture of lyme and water, giving off a milky appearance. Later innovations introduced sand into the mix which provided Scots with a more durable exterior against the elements. Now, of course, there are a plethora of synthetic paints available to the consumer, the hardiest of which are used on the lighthouses (for obvious reasons). After we had been back on the road for a while we stopped for petrol and bought 2 CDs for our further journeys. One CD was a compilation of flook music, very popular right now. The other was by Scot singer Kate Rusby entitled "Little Lights". Kate's CD is a real stunner and just perfect as our day's accomaniment. It's a gray day today, the air full of sky. The name "Skye" atually means "Isle of Mist", and on days as today one reckons it was rightly named. The air is thick and wet and there is no difference between the sky and the air. Today there is only a thich veil drawn over all of this island. It's as if the sea is picked up and dispersed in the air. So when we drive north out of Portree towards the Old Man of Storr (which in old Norse means "big" or "great")--a very unusual rock formation--it was cloaked in a misty fog. Missing it, and not wanting to venture through the wet fog to find it, we decided to pass it by. The sea came out before us on our right as we moved north towards the Quirang. Dave commented that he's never liked the sea so much, being that it seems so uncertain, so vast, so indefineable. He said he'd learn to sail just to conquer it, which seemed like a very masculine comment. Mastery of nature, or nature will master you? Indeed it is immense, for its sheer distance alone is enough to send the mind into thoughts of isolation, emptiness and Kantian awe. But its depth is the most terrifying to me. The true last frontier, excepting other galaxies. So deep that the tallest mountains in the world lie in the deep mountian range between North America and Europe. I look out and see a terrifying immense abyss. I don't think I could stomach being a sailor. With this racing through my mind we reached the look out for point for Kilt Rock. We stopped for pics. It's a rock formation that looks like the ripples in a kilt. Quick pics and we're off to find a bathroom. We stopped in Staffin (a small village where there are dinosaur fossiles) at a convenient store/restaurant/community hall. Almost every village has a community hall. It's where they meet to discuss, as well as have their dances. Then we headed towards the Quirang, one of the most dramatic areas of geological formations on Skye. In Gaelic Auriang means "round fold or pen" and comes from quoyrand or kvirand--an old Norse word. It was created by a succession of the largest landslides in Britain. According to a tourist guide, "Huge blocks of rock slippd down-slope when Jurassic sediments buckled under the weight of the basalt plateau which lies above." It is visually stunning and makes for great photos...when you can see it. Today its hidden. My plan had been to hike it as far as "the Needle" formation or "the Prison".But with the Skye spitting on us and winds pushing every which way, we decided against it. instead, we drove up to the car park and took pictures when the clouds parted enough to grab some pictures of "the Needle". Then we turned around and headed to Flodigarry to visit Flodigarry Country house hotel where we had (a terrible) lunch.I wouldn't advise this place for food--only for tea in their drawing room. The food was terrible and overpriced. It was the first bad meal we've had since we arrived. While lunching i got back into The Road North--in particular the Alexander Smith excerpt on Skye. It was very amusing to see what another traveller's impresions were of the place over 100 years ago. It's been a great companion book on our journey. Dave picked up The Financial Times earlier in the day and pulled it out to read. After warming up a bit we headed off north to make the journey complete to Uig. On the way we passed Duntulm castle, which lies in ruins on land which had once served as an iron age broch, a Pictish fort and Viking stronghold The MacLeods and MacDonalds each had their turns at the castle before it fell into disuse. Just before we had arrived a tour bus unloaded at the site, and because of rain and my not wanting to trapse up with 30ish other people or so, we decided to keep on in the car to Uig. Caledonian MacBrayne has the ferry monopoly around here, so we headed onto their gigantic ship, left the car in the hull and headed up top the shop for tea in the cafeteria. Back in Portree I had picked up some sea sickness medicine, remembering two previous "cruises" when i was fairly green the whole of the journey. Two hours passed uneventful as Dave and I read. We came up upon Harris around 7:40pm and with the deep fog clinging to the sea there suddenly emerged very green patches of earth spotting rocky outcroppings. It was a treeless earth made of small hills and little islands.I couldn't help but think of the hardiness of the people who live here. It reminded me alot of the film The Shipping News, which takes place, for the most part, in New Foundland (populated in most part by Scot and Irish immigrants). A rugged hardy people to match such a place, where it seems the wind must howl over the land and the people fight for their right to live there. After disembarking we headed north out of North Harris towards Lewis. Tonight our journey was to end at Planasker Old School Bed and Breakfast in Marbig on Lewis. The drive was difficult as the fog was so thick we couldn't see the road out in front of us until we reached Lewis. From there our partly revealed guest began to show itself as an other wordly landscape of big rocks and earth clinging to them. We were later to find out that part of the 2001 Space Odyssey movie was filmed in this lunar landscape on the east of the island. We drove into what seemed like the farthest reaches of the world as we made the approach to Planasker. Our journey ended at the head of the loch in front of Planasker.We stepped inside for a delicious homemade late supper and then tucked ourselves in bed for the evening. Today's journey had seemed like the longest. But this land held great possibility for discovery.