HIghlands and Islands: To Lewis and Harris

The last day of May saw our Natural Habitat Adventures group travel by van, ferry, and van again as we journeyed from Lochinver, our most recent base, to the island of Lewis and Harris, part of the Outer Hebrides.

The first leg of our road journey took us past Loch Assynt and the nearby Little Assynt.

It was atmospheric starting out.

The route looks like a large question-mark, because Jim avoided the single-track roads.

In Ullapool we had time to wander before the ferry departed. Several of us stopped in a bookstore for some fun browsing, and Joan picked up Scottish Wild Flowers (Michael Scott), Women of the Highlands (Katherine Stewart), and some cards.

Then Joan and I wandered along the breakwater, and encountered an enthusiastic, aquatic, ball-fetching labrador retriever and his man. This photo marks our turnaround point.

The ferry was in view the whole time, docked.

Our group assembled in front of the ferry office at the appointed time and boarded. Standing several decks higher than the water, we could appreciate the heights behind Ullapool.

As the ferry cleared the dock the entirety of the town was in view.

It was a sunny day with a chilly sea breeze, so Joan and I started the ride from the back deck.

The warmest seats were in the center, not port/starboard.

Below and behind the back deck was the vehicle level, with plenty of trucks on this voyage. I hadn't realize Scotland has trouble with baguette thieves.

We had a good time chatting in the sunshine until Jonathan offered an indoor snack, which included millionaire's shortbread.

As we approached Stornoway, the capital and main settlement of Lewis and Harris, Joan and I kept an eye out for the Beasts of Holm, the rocks upon which the overloaded HMY Iolaire foundered at 2:30am New Year's Day, 1919, one of the worst 20th Century British maritime disasters. When I Heard the Bell (John Macleod) is a detailed account of the wreck, what came before, and what came after. We had both read the book and found it engrossing.

Our Caledonian MacBrayne passed them by and safely pulled into Stornoway harbor.

Another ship was already there.

A block or two from the dockside we had a lunch at the Digby Chick, followed by a visit to the memorial to the Iolaire.

Now we resumed transport by van, driven by the ultra-capable Jim, and visited the historic Arnol Blackhouse. A traditional blackhouse was built with double dry-stone walls packed with earth and a thatched roof secured against Atlantic gales by stone-weighted ropes. The village of Arnol is known for its many ruined blackhouses, and the museum is adjacent to the restored #42.

Peat was the only available fuel, laboriously cut from boggy land and stacked to dry before burning. It's essentially compressed vegetation that's too young -- way too young -- to have been transformed into coal.

We stooped to enter the blackhouse; entrances were kept to a minimum size and number to keep the inside warmth inside. This sign includes a diagram of the layout (click on the image to enlarge).

This is the livestock section, a source of body heat to supplement the peat.

A smoky discourse from Jonathan.

This is handwoven rope. Whatever could be made locally was made locally.

The hearth was the center of the home. There was no chimney; the peat smoke escaped, mostly, through the blackened thatch. It was important to never, ever let the fire go out.

Sleeping quarters.

Nearby was a "new house," built by those who could afford it during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. It was drafty and cold compared to the double-walled and virtually windowless blackhouse, but it was modern.

An interior photo.

From Arnol our group then drove to the Standing Stones of Callanish, an archaeological site dating from the late Neolithic and Bronze Ages -- from 5,000 years ago. This is a popular spot for visitors, including cycling groups.

The arrangement of the stones includes a double row, or alley, three lines, and a central circle:

By Henry James derivative work: Pasicles [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

The stones had been half-submerged in peat over the millennia, but in the mid-18th Century 1.5 meters (5 feet) of that peat was removed to restore the ground to its original appearance.

Looking down the long alley.

The central stones.

Louise was taking it all in.

A more modern phenomenon -- Callanish selfies.

The young girls on the edge of the photo asked Jonathan what they must do in order to "feel the magic of the stones." Jonathan replied that they needed to come at night and sit still for ten minutes; one answered immediately that they couldn't possibly sit still that long.

With the proper light, however, some daytime magic can be spotted.

From Callanish, which sits atop a small rise, other standing stone formations can be seen, including Callanish II and III. Binoculars are useful.

Callanish was our last big stop for the day, followed by a scenic drive down the spine of Lewis and Harris to the village of Tarbert, our home for the next two nights.

We checked into the Hotel Hebrides, and Joan and I immediately opened our windows; fortunately, our top-story room was not visited by the midges. After disassembling the obligatory duvet we were set for a comfortable night.

Tomorrow we would embark on a salt-water expedition.