Homeward bound

Today it is windy.  It is cloudy.  It is cold.   Again.  As I rejoined the main arterial road from Stornoway to Tarbert, it was buzzing with activity.   In the ten miles to the Harris border, thirty-something cars passwd me, and five cyclists going the other way.  I admit it's a bit nerdy, but if Simon &  Garfunkel can count cars on the New Jersey turnpike, why can't I?  And I have been away for a long time...

In Harris,  I forgot to count as I concentrated on the hills.  The road was an old friend now.  Coming down the last hill into Tarbert: the sun briefly came out, showing me what I've missed.  Ah well, another time perhaps.  Maybe Liz will come on a cycling trip up here with me.

Now, I was at Tarbert by lunchtime with time on my hands for the rest of the day. After dumping panniers at the hostel and a bite to eat, I decided to cycle to Scalpay.  Which is a nice cycle ride, if you like hills.  The road there traversed vast glacier valleys, instead of sticking to the coast.  

Scalpay is a small, spider-shaped island with spindly legs stretching out into the sea.  It has a real end-of-the-road feel.  Houses cling to folds in the rocky landscape.  Chickens and lobster pots in the gardens.  Fishing equipment, in all states of repair, is everywhere.  Tens of rocky inlets, most with a slipway or a boat or two afloat. I explored a few of the spider's legs but I could see rain on the way so I retreated to a little café,  sorry: bistro and tearoom.  Quite posh: tablecloths and chair covers made of certified Harris Tweed.  Jimmy Shand and his band playing gently in the background.  A nice view of (Scalpay) North Harbour, and I watched the rain come and go.  And come again.  Ah, well.