Three years ago today

I arrived in Lewis on 15 November 2004, from North Uist. I copy the diary entry for that day.

At 8.10 this morning, the basket-ball team left for their match at Lionacleit, Benbecula. I had barely time to catch my breath, when a new group of people marched in. Seven folk, about to set off by sea-kayak to the Monach Islands. Heard that before. I left for Lochmaddy at 10 o'clock, and headed north by postbus to Berneray one hour later. Spent about half an hour rattling the keyboard in Tigh na Chearsabhagh, the sound of which drove one person mad. Not me! Some of you may be aware I'm a fast typist (70 wpm), and it is quite a noise when I'm in my stride. The postbus lady very kindly dropped me off at the road-end in Berneray, where you can go down to the Burnside B&B (prop. Mrs McKillop) where I stayed in 1995. Memories of being asked to join in the fun at the Berneray week, in which I was nearly drowned in the Knockout. And Mrs McKillop horrified that it was her new guest, all bedraggled, asking for a cup of soup afterwards. Now there was nothing in that field. Only a selection of rams. It's that time of the year when the rams are put to the ewes. Yep, necessary, else you don't get those cute little lambs in spring. The rams have a block of waxy dye bound to their chest. When the ram does his job, the dye rubs on to the ewe's shoulder, and thus the farmer knows that she has been served. The sheep on Berneray do not have horns, they have large black floppy ears, which gives them a funny look. It was quite chilly out there in the field, so I quickly hobbled back to the ferry terminal and waited for the MV Loch Portain to turn up at 1.20 to take me to Leverburgh. There was a fair queue of traffic waiting to go, including a fuel tanker. This led to a complete ban on smoking on board. You are normally allowed to smoke on the outer deck. The ferry made a tortuous and at times slow journey across the Sound of Harris, circumventing reefs and other underwater dangers. It took an hour, arriving at Leverburgh at 2.20. Had to wait for 40 minutes for the bus to depart north to Stornoway. Forgot to mention that at 1pm the sun came out, and it made the crossing quite beautiful. When the bus finally departed it was a picture postcard journey, with the beaches and views of West Harris in a hazy late autumn light. The sands were yellow, not white, due to the light. Arrived in Tarbert at 3.40, left there a few minutes later. The trip through the mountains was quite familiar, from my earlier journey in August of this year. After Balallan darkness began tofall. Arrived in Stornoway at 4.50. There were only a few other people on the bus. The route can be very busy in summer, with the driver giving a running commentary on the scenery. Now he greets every local customer by name. Having done the shopping, I headed for my hostel for the night. Fairhaven, on Francis Street. Easily found, but not exactly a model for organisation. Had to wait for 2 hours for the proprietors to turn up to take payment. Went for a very good meal at the Crown Hotel in the meantime. There were two dorms in the place, one being taken up by Polish workers in the local fish factory. The kitchen was a pokey little place, with dry rot up the walls. Yuk. The kettle was filled with brown water, although the tapwater was clear. Yuk again. Went to bed early, Stornoway is not noteworthy for its nightlife. Oh, gave two USA lassies some advice re. a trip around the island by car

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