Sunday, 31 August 2008


Arrival in Stornoway, the only town of any note in the Western Isles, is a shock after the wide open spaces and relatively quiet roads of the Uists and Harris. Here are trees, pavements, streetlights, suburbs, even a rush hour. After a week of wild or semi-wild camping, the cyclist feels particularly out of place in the streets of Stornoway.

The first time I visited Stornoway, I didn't like it much and couldn't wait to leave. This time round was better, and we strolled around the harbour, with the lush, rhodedendron-choked Lews Castle estate and handsome white-painted harbourside houses opposite, looking in vain for seals that we were sure would be bobbing about just offshore.

Stornoway Harbour:

We also visited family graves in a cemetery just outside Stornoway. It is impossible in Lewis not to be struck by the number of headstones in graveyards commemorating people who drowned at sea.

1 comment:

Billy said...

It's funny that Stornaway is full of young earth creationists, but the local rocks are amongst the oldest known in the world. Is it Stornaway that has the highest proportion of alcoholics and teetotalers in the country