Thursday 14/07/05

Today, we were to have gone on a walk to the beehive dwellings under Scalabhal in Morsgail. Unfortunately, the weather throws a spanner in the works because of heavy rain. I know the route to be boggy at the best of time, so it would be a complete mudbath now. After lunch therefore, we hop off to the district of Uig, 30 miles west of Stornoway. When we leave, it's still wet and misty. Arrive at Ardroil Sands at 1.30. The continuous rain has now given way to heavy showers. Walk down the beach in the rain, right out to the tideline. A walk across to Carnish is impossible, because the tide is flooding a good part of the way. Return to the car for a little drive round Timsgarry, very familiar territory to me from previous visits. Proceed back down Glen Valtos to Miavaig, taking care not to knock down sheep in the road. At Cliobh, we stop to listen to a corncrake. As I train my binoculars on the meadow, I see a brown bird flying off low over the long grass. Drive round to Valtos Pier, where a family is fishing for crabs, using limpets for bait. Mum has been coming here for 38 years. You can see the crabs walking on the seafloor, 10 ft down. We carry on to Cnip beach, where the clouds break to let the sun out. It transforms the area into a completely different place. We pass A'Beirigh farm, Riof and Uigean on the way back to Miavaig and points east. The dark wall of the rainfront can be seen moving away east awsw we drive back along the familiar route of the B8011. We come back to Stornoway via the Pentland Road at Achamor. This route sports a number of delapidated shieling cabins. The dead sheep is still rotting in peace beside the cattlegrid at Marybank; the carcass has been lying there since (at least) April 11th. At 7 o'clock, the other guests head off to the Hebridean Celtic Festival concert in the Castle Ground, where Van Morrison is due to play. Queue apparently stretches right back from the harbour. When mrs B, Alison and myself take the dog for a walk, the music echoes round the streets. The quayside along Cromwell Street is thronged with people on foot, in cars, on boats all listening for free to the music eminating from the marquee across the water. The music follows us on the way back to Newton. At 11 o'clock, Alison finds a hedgehog in the garden. Mrs B, myself and Alison play games of draughts and a memory game before that. The concertgoers return at 1 am, and a ceilidh ensues, heavily laced with drink. One person drops off to sleep at 2.30, but the hardened souls press on until 4.30, when it gets light again. As I watch the dawn breaking, I see the lone figure of a female tottering along the pavement. She stops opposite Island Road to attempt to operate her mobile phone. When Fingal pops up from the foreshore, she comes to her senses (somewhat) and wobbles on.