The Isle of Lewis...
Written: 17th Jan 2013 | Last Updated: 17th Jan 2013
We finally locate our crofter’s cottage - a whitewashed beauty set on the road above a night-black, elongated loch. Across the water, a couple of lights burn, indicating there are others nearby, quite comforting. We meet the owner, Lynne, who has kindly waited up to welcome us. The place is fantastic, a perfect marriage of old and new, beautifully refreshed with lots of space and the promise of spectacular views over loch, glen and surrounding hills when day breaks. Lynne shows us about and instructs us on the workings of washer/dryer, hot water and floor heating, then graciously heads off home, leaving us to figure out who’s sleeping where, and what time’s breakfast.
The six of us unpack cars and mound stuff in our selected bedrooms. Outerwear and wet weather gear find hooks in the laundry/mud room, toothbrushes settle in bathrooms, boots settle by front or back door, clothes disappear into drawers and armoires.
We’d had time to do a comprehensive food shop in Inverness, and managed to pick up a leg of lamb from a butcher near the ferry wharf in Ullapool, so set to work stocking fridge and pantry. We needed to be prepared - Sunday, tomorrow, all shops will be closed as the Sabbath is strictly observed on Lewis.
With peaceful order and building anticipation about the week ahead, we slide off into sleep; the last sound I hear is a rain-spit-breeze playing timpani on the windows.
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