Sron Uladon and Stornoway.

This is the day I left the group to hike alone. As it turns out, despite the length, this was the best hike of the trip so far. First and foremost, there was a trail. Second, the terrain varied from long steady climbs to relatively level areas with many opportunities for photos. Unfortunately, having been so burned the previous three days, Mrs. MacKenzie opted out, deciding to stay back at the farmhouse with Mrs. Harris.

Here’s the view from the veranda - when the tide was in, this was all ocean. When the tide was out, this was a gorgeous white sand beach.

The MacKenzie and my husband, freed from their unofficial guide duties, headed off at a brisk pace. The English split into couples, heads down, deep in conversation. Graham babbled on about the eagles and then, realizing he was lagging behind, hurried to catch my husband and The MacKenzie. I brought up the rear, knowing I had a sixteen mile day ahead of me. While my knee was holding up, I wasn’t sure what affect the past few days of climbing might have on me.

I had many opportunities for photos. We passed several peaty waterfalls and a man-made loch which I believe may have been a small power station. We all met up at the loch, merely to take stock, and then pressed on. As we began to climb up from the lake side, I stayed with my husband. A mile from the peak, I announced I was returning to the van. Graham didn’t protest. I honestly wasn’t certain my knee could handle another steep climb. But as I mentioned, it turned out this was the easiest climb in three days.

The solitude was sweet and I got some great photos.

We spent one more night with the lovely Mrs. Harris and then headed to Stornoway and The Old Man of Storr.

Much as I wanted to hike to The Old Man of Storr, pea soup fog notwithstanding, Mrs. MacKenzie didn’t want a thing to do with Graham and I refused to leave her alone for another day. The entire trip had been my idea in the first place so I felt responsible for the lousy guide.

When we arrived, Snotty Graham said, “Well, I’m taking the van so I don’t know what the two of you are going to do in this kind of weather. There’s nothing in Stornoway.”

Mrs. MacKenzie gave a snort of derision.

I replied, “Don’t worry about us, Graham. It’ll be difficult, but we’ll manage without you…somehow.”

The two of us remained in Stornoway while the rest of the group headed out on a hike. We did what any red-blooded American woman would do when stranded in a scenic village:

A. Pay a visit to the amazing public library to catch up on the news and use the computers.

B. Tour the marvelous museum of local history, artifacts and art.

C. Find a fantastic coffee house serving the best cappuccino outside of Rome and share a grilled cheese sandwich on local artisan bread and a salad of mixed greens.

D. Shop. Serious shopping. I bought my husband a Harris tweed jacket, my son a Harris tweed scarf, and my two daughters Harris tweed handbags. The shop owner arranged to ship everything to the States for me. Between Mrs. MacKenzie and myself (Scottish sir name, remember), we were welcomed everywhere in Stornoway like returning prodigal daughters. It was great.

When my husband and The MacKenzie returned, starving, soaked to the skin, but raving about the Old Man of Storr, we took them to the library where they could change and bought them a late lunch. Here are some of the photos from their hike.

Tomorrow: On to Skye and the revenge of the Scots!