The Outer Hebrides. There's something compelling about the far places, the end of the line, when you step off the boat and find yourself on a beach at the edge of the earth, or as far as you can go on that road, anyway. The Outer Hebrides.
And there's a currently a deal on Scotrail allowing old people to travel round trip anywhere in Scotland for £19. "Old" means over 55, which is an outrageous misuse of the term(!) but a great deal. My travel companion, upon finding out about this deal, instantly began plotting the longest, most circuitous route to the farthest place in Scotland.
Thus, the Outer Hebrides.
Questions like "But what is there to do in the Hebrides in October?" just show that You Don't Get It.
The Hebrides are beautiful in a spare, uncluttered way.. It's elemental: sweeping landscapes of rock and water, some sheep, some boats, and some simple houses. It's a hard life on a rock with little arable land, but somehow they've been getting by; the islands have been inhabited since the beginning of time. On the other hand, everywhere on the islands you see the roofless stone houses of families that left, gone to the cities, or Canada, Australia, the US.
The main road on Harris ( as in " tweed") is one lane. Here and there the road is wide enough to pull off so oncoming traffic can pass. This time of year there is no "traffic". Renting a car and driving on the left would most likely be calamitous,so we're dependent on the buses that circle the island. Bus riding actually has advantages as far as people-watching and eavesdropping go. Sometimes the bus is full of children going to school and sometimes it's just us and the driver. Then i can pester him with questions. I point out a house especially well situated on the loch, and he tells the whole story of the family living there.
A fact little known: there are fine sand beaches in the Hebrides that the rocky Mediterranean would be proud to have. The Diety must have chuckled, bestowing these beaches on an island where it's hard to imagine anyone will ever wear a bikini.
They have weather here, psychotic weather. Today cumulus nimbus were streaming overhead and sunshine alternated on a minute by minute basis with stinging rain. What was constant was the wind. Wind that was a force to fight when walking, wind that blows in your face and snatches your breath away.
At the impressive Calanais stone circle on the hill top, I tried to shelter from the wind behind the standing rocks to take pictures. It is not an isolated site; outlying stones are visible from the hill, in nearby fields and farmyards.
The ever blowing wind gives you profound appreciation for the architecture of the traditional "black house", built into the hillside with stone walls two to three feet thick, where people and animal sheltered together. The " black" comes from the smoke of an open peat fire. The roofless remains of black houses dot the landscape, often next to the modern cottage the family moved to.
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