Spring Nostalgia Trip # 12: The Auld Town of Auld Reekie

If visiting the New Town, West End, and Dean Village seems much like a tourist experience in any major city, then Edinburgh's Old Town takes your experience to the same level of overcrowding, over-noisy overload which ranks with the craziest touristic madhouses on the planet. I don't remember feeling this way after my visit to Edinburgh half a century ago, but I was grateful to escape at the bottom end of the Royal Mile with my sanity and my possessions intact.

 

Even so, I would recommend anyone to spend some time in the Old Town. Just try to get there early in the day, and not (as I did) on a weekend. 

 

Post # 11 concluded my visit to the New Town with a climb up the street called The Mound. Here's the view ahead as you begin to ascend the Mound towards the summit of the Castle Hill.

 

 

The building with the two square towers is now the home of New College in the University of Edinburgh, but its historic role was to house the Assembly Rooms for the Annual Assembly of the Church of Scotland, which is known in other countries as the Presbyterian Church. It's a fitting introduction to the Old Town, since the wars of religion in Scotland generated a good deal of the history you're going to experience up on this hill. The Rooms are still used for the regular Assembly sessions, and the main hall is also used to hold concerts when the Assembly is not in session. Here's a closeup of the facade.

The building still looks dark, especially at a distance, but when I came here as a young traveller it was all but pitch black, due to the many generations of exposure to the smog of Auld Reekie.

To reach the Castle, you have to turn off The Mound and walk along the narrower roadway past the College entrance, Mound Place. At the end of the building, you turn a corner and find yourself on the steepest road I've ever tried to walk on in my life -- Ramsay Lane. It's not a long hill, and the summit is on the crest of the Castle Hill, but steep! I'm sure the lower end of this road was steeper than 9/10 of all the staircases I've ever climbed in my life. I didn't even try to take a picture looking up, because I feared that if I raised my camera, I would lose my balance on the steep, slippery cobbles and go back down the hill "arse over teakettle," to quote an old expression. Instead, I turned around once I reached the top, and took the picture looking back downhill. The road keeps getting steeper and steeper as you go down the hill.

At the top, I was now standing on the roadway called Castlehill, directly in front of the outer gates of Edinburgh Castle. Since I had cringed at the £20 admission fee, I took just one picture, looking past the huge bleachers which provide seating for the annual Military Tattoo towards the main castle buildings, and then turned around.

For those who wish to visit Edinburgh Castle in more depth, a word to the wise. Here's a screenshot from the official Castle website:

According to the desk clerk at my hotel, this is not just an idle threat. The wording seems to hint delicately that you will end up paying far more to a scalper if you don't reserve ahead of time. I can well believe it!

Standing on Castlehill, you are now standing at the top end of the "Royal Mile." There is no actual street by that name. It's the mile-long roadway connecting the fortress and palace of Edinburgh Castle to the more ceremonial and luxurious Palace of Holyroodhouse at the lower east end of the escarpment. The streets which comprise the Royal Mile, in order, are Castlehill, Lawnmarket, High Street, Canongate, and Abbey Strand. Despite all these names, it is a single continuous roadway running more or less straight along the summit of the escarpment all the way down.

Here's the map of Edinburgh again, this time with the Royal Mile marked in with a bright pink line.

This picture gives you a view of the first stretch of the Royal Mile below the Castle, looking downhill.

Already you can see that almost every building in the picture has its own distinctive style of architecture. The contrast couldn't be greater from the sane, sensible stylistic harmony of the New Town. Here in the Old Town, there is no such thing at all. It's a gloriously anarchic hodge-podge of styles from any and all times for the last seven centuries, sometimes with multiple styles jammed side-by-each into a single structure. 

With that as a hint, here is a photo gallery of the Royal Mile.

 

An eye-catching sight is the old Tolbooth Kirk, at the foot of Castlehill. The towering spire is impossible to miss. Unused as a church for many years, it was renovated and converted into a performance hall and office spaces for the Edinburgh International Festival, one of the world's premier summer festivals of the arts. The new space, christened The Hub, opened in 1991.

 

At the end of Lawnmarket, the street widens into a sizable plaza, which is occupied by St. Giles Cathedral.

 

Like many of Britain's great Gothic churches, St. Giles has undergone numerous renovations, improvements, and expansions during its centuries of existence here. The most recent major addition is the exquisite Thistle Chapel of 1911.

 

The most striking architectural feature of St. Giles is its central Crown Tower. Such towers can be found on a number of churches in different parts of Scotland and northern England, but St. Giles is unique among all the examples I have seen in having four central buttresses on each side as well as the usual four corner buttresses to support the central spire. It's also the largest such crown tower I have seen.

 

Outside the east end of the church is the Mercat (Market) Cross, a common feature of many older towns and cities throughout the British Isles.

 

The commonly-used name "Cathedral" is actually misleading, since St. Giles is a Church of Scotland congregation, and the Presbyterian churches do not have bishops (the name "cathedral" means "the official seat of a bishop"). Sometimes referred to as the High Kirk, although that name conveys no particular distinction either, St. Giles embodies a large part of Scottish history within its complex and unusual structure.

The church has passed back and forth between Catholics and Protestants as the tides of the country's wars of religion ebbed and flowed repeatedly through the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. For years, it has served as a burial place for distinguished persons of various kinds, much like the role of Westminster Abbey in London. Also like Westminster, St. Giles is the location for various ceremonial and royal functions. St. Giles appeared in many a television newscast as the scene of the lying in state of Queen Elizabeth II before her casket was taken to London. Subsequently, the square in front of the church witnessed the official welcome of King Charles III, and an official service of thanksgiving was held in St. Giles to mark that occasion.

 

So even if the names "Cathedral" and "High Kirk" carry no specific meaning, they prove in the end to be appropriate anyway for this magnificent church's role in the national life.

 

By the way, I did not go inside because I was passing St. Giles just at the time of the principal Sunday service of worship.

Leaving St. Giles behind, I continued down High Street which is pedestrian only for the first couple of blocks after leaving the Cathedral.

This large complex in the last photo appears no different from any of the others, until you take a good look at the round turret on the far end.

One thing's for sure -- no guests of this hotel in the upmarket Radisson Blu chain have to climb any hills at all to get from their hotel rooms out onto the Royal Mile!

 

Getting closer to the bottom of the Royal Mile now, I came to the most bizarre architectural hodge-podge of all -- the house of John Knox. Known as a firebrand preacher and remembered and honoured as the founder of the Protestant Church of Scotland, Knox served for some years as the minister of St. Giles.

 

 

Not far beyond Knox's house is the Canongate Tolbooth of 1591, which served at one time as a prison. It now houses a museum and a tavern -- and some apartments! The term "Tolbooth" was used from the 1300s until the 1800s to describe a building as a seat of municipal government in a burgh, a city chartered by the Scottish crown.

So what else is there to do on the Royal Mile besides looking at the architecture or going into the several museums? The answer: SHOP! If you want to buy anything at all with a Scottish theme or connection, you've come to the right place.

 

Kilts, plaids, accessories, souvenirs, whisky, woollens, tweed, candy, jewellery, antiques, cashmere -- if it's made in Scotland, you'll find a shop selling it here -- or two or three or more. They range from the dignified and upmarket to the quirky and entertaining -- such as this example.

 

Another cute name which I missed seeing but caught later from Google Maps was a gift shop cleverly named "Thistle Do Nicely."

 

Finally, at the foot of the hill at last, here are the historic buildings on either side of the short little street called Abbey Strand.

The King's Gallery, quite understandably, has only recently been renamed.

Now, turn around -- very slowly and carefully lest you suffer a severe shock.

 

 

This building, right across the street from the palace, is the home of the Scottish Parliament -- that is the new Parliament since the devolution of many powers of government from Westminster back to Scotland in 1998. The new building was officially opened in 2004. It's quite the contrast to its historic surroundings.

 

"Abbey Strand" got its name because it formerly led to the abbey of the Holy Rood, which most likely took its name from a fragment of the True Cross. The extended name "Holyroodhouse" may derive from the custom in medieval times of describing convents, monasteries, nunneries, and abbeys as "religious houses." The first palace was built adjacent to the abbey in the 1500s, and the more recent palace -- mainly dating from the later 1600s -- still adjoins the abbey ruins.

The Palace of Holyroodhouse, as it stands today, is the official royal residence in Scotland, and is open to the public whenever no members of the Royal Family are in residence. Again there's a £20 admission fee, and again I said to myself, "Thanks but no thanks." These pictures were taken through the space between the bars of the elaborate iron gates. I wonder if I used the same exact gap in the bars with my old Instamatic camera back in 1975?

Beyond the palace, to the south and east, is the large public area of greenery, forest, lochs, and mountains known as Holyrood Park. Although I didn't go into the park this time, I have done in the past, and there are great hiking opportunities. Two of the best are shown in these pictures, taken from up on Regent Road as I made my way back to Princes Street. First are the abrupt cliffs of Salisbury Craigs.

Behind Salisbury Craigs rises the even more prominent mountain known as Arthur's Seat, a name which pays tribute to old legends claiming a Scottish connection with the career of King Arthur.

Just along the road from the viewpoints where I took those mountain views, there stands the official monument of Scotland's true poet laureate, Robert Burns.

Not far away, on the other side of the road, is the neo-Classical majesty of a palace of education -- the Royal High School.

Next up on the north side of Regent Road is Calton Hill, which stands above the east end of Princes Street and holds numerous monuments to significant figures in history. Two which can be seen from below are the memorial to Admiral Lord Nelson, in the shape of a naval officer's telescope....

...and another neo-Classical temple, a memorial to Scottish philosopher Dugald Stewart.

 

Passing by Calton Hill, I came at last down to Princes Street again, and one significant landmark which I haven't mentioned yet. It's that iconic clock tower, visible from everywhere on the street, standing atop the Balmoral Hotel. Originally called the North British Hotel after the railway which built it, the Balmoral remains the most distinguished and certainly one of the most expensive accommodations in Edinburgh. Maybe if I start up a Go Fund Me, I can get enough money to afford a room there the next time!

And with that, this fabulous trip has come to its close. Thanks to all of you who've stuck with me right through all the different chapters of this story. Time to stay home for a bit and lick my financial wounds, but this whole experience has been worth every penny I spent on it!

Spring Nostalgia Trip # 10: Tìr na h-Òigridh, The Magical Land of Youth

From the first view, it's plainly apparent that we're no longer anywhere near the metropolitan crowds and noises of Glasgow -- or any other major city.

 

Instead, the faithful Caledonian MacBrayne ferry has brought me once again to one of the most peaceful and magical places I know -- the island of Barra in the Outer Hebrides, Scotland's island outposts against the open Atlantic Ocean.

Barra is special, in ways that I can't readily pin down and catalogue. All I know is that this whole Scottish footnote to my transatlantic cruise began a few months back when I wrote and published a series of blogs about my last trip to the Outer Hebrides, from 2007. By the time I'd finished that series, I knew in my heart of hearts that I absolutely needed to see Barra again.

Why Barra in particular? I suspect this was just because both of my previous visits have been one night only, and I wanted very much to be able to give Barra a little more time.

What I didn't want to do, though, was to go through all the hassle of renting a car. That meant travel by train and (of course) by ferry. I could have come by air from Glasgow. Barra's airport is famous, even notorious, around the world as the only scheduled airline service airport on a beach. The plane, a Canadian-built DeHavilland Twin Otter has to land at low tide, kicking up a huge plume of spray every time. 

 

Twin Otter on final approach to land at Barra Airport. Photo taken by James Gray, 1988

 

The air service has been operated by, or under the names of, many different airlines through the years. It is currently operated by Loganair. It would have cost me far more to get to Barra by air, and I've flown on too many Twin Otters to consider this a thrill ride.

 

Here's how I got to Barra (red for rail, blue for sea):

The trains run from Glasgow Queen Street Station to Oban three times a day. The train which makes the direct connection leaves Glasgow at 0821, arriving in Oban at 1127. The railway builders ended the line right on the waterfront, and the ferry terminal is right beside the train station. It takes just 2 minutes to walk from one to the other -- less than the walking distances in many major airports.

But be warned. The train to Oban is a 2-car, diesel-engine unit. It's not very big, and there can be a lot of traffic. You need to reserve your seat at no extra charge. I had forgotten about this, because it's been years since I did any serious train travel in the UK. You do it when you buy your ticket. What I don't know, and it's too late for me to figure it out this trip, is how to get the seat reservations when you're using a rail pass on ScotRail. But however you do it, DO IT. On my return trip, the train was over 80% reserved, and pulled out of Oban with people already standing in the aisles. Thanks to a kind younger gentleman, I was able to land one of the few unreserved seats. My well-worked feet were grateful. Standing up for the entire run of over 3 hours to Glasgow is not something I would want to do.

There's some incredible scenery along this route through the Highlands -- on both sides. I remembered to ride on one side on the way out and the other on the way back. But ScotRail doesn't do a terrific job on washing the trains. The grime on the window ruined most of my pictures from the outbound trip. On the return, the window had a few small parts which were dirt-free. Here are a few pix from the return to Glasgow. The River Awe, which drains Loch Awe into Loch Etive and the ocean.

Masses of lilacs on the station at Arrochar and Tarbet, a narrow neck of land between Loch Lomond and Loch Long. "Tarbet" or "Tarbert" (from Gaelic) is a common place name in the Highlands and Islands, and denotes a narrow strip of land or isthmus between two bodies of water.

 

 Views of the mountains as the train climbs the long grade above the eastern shore of Loch Long.

The ferry from Oban to Barra cost £17 each way for a walk-on passage. This would also be the fare for any extra passengers in a motor vehicle, which is charged as a car-and-driver fare. Although the ship was still relatively empty this early in the season, you would definitely require a reservation to cross with a vehicle during the peak period from mid-June to September. 

 

You should certainly want to be on deck as the ferry sails out of Oban Harbour. Oban is itself a place which will repay a visit of a day or three, and has many good choices of places to stay, from bigger hotels facing the harbour to smaller inns and bed and breakfast places farther uphill.

Wait a second. What is that "thing" up on top of the hill? Closer look.

McCaig's Tower seems to have been intended as a giant-sized replica of a Roman arena. Whatever his final intentions were, it never got finished. Today it's a park, and the grounds inside and around the structure are nicely tended and manicured. In Victorian times, this kind of replica of a classical building or at least a building inspired by a classical model was known as a "folly." If nothing else, McCaig's Folly was definitely committed on a grand scale.

As the ship slowly pulls away, you can see that Oban is a ferry port of considerable importance. One of the two main berths is reserved for the frequent shuttle to and from Craignure on the nearby Isle of Mull. It's one of Calmac's busiest routes and uses two sizable ferries in summer. There is a smaller berth with a slipway used by the double-ender which serves the nearby island of Lismore. Oban is definitely the busiest port for numbers of vehicles and passengers on the Caledonian MacBrayne system, which serves all of the western islands.

The first leg of the trip can show some spectacular scenery when the weather cooperates. On this day it didn't, alas. I did get a few good pictures on the return trip, including this zoom-lens shot of Mull's "capital," the fishing town of Tobermory with its famous multi-coloured row of houses along the waterfront. 

 

The ferry will pass the end of the Isle of Mull about 90-100 minutes after leaving Oban. The remainder of the nearly five hour crossing is in open water, the sea passage known in Scotland as the Minch. It's at this point that you reap the benefits of one of Caledonian MacBrayne's biggest and fastest ships being put on this route. But you can still get bounced around, so it's best to travel prepared.

Just before 6:00 pm, the ferry glides past a series of rocky islets and into the circular harbour of Castlebay, the principal port of Barra. The reason for the name is completely obvious from the first picture at the top of the post. Once ashore, I just had to hike up the steep hill from the ferry dock to get this view of the ferry, the MV Isle of Lewis, secured at the pier for the night. 

 

 

A short distance further uphill brought me to the Castlebay Hotel. It's a classic old Scottish hotel, family operated, with a full restaurant at breakfast and in the evenings, a bar with music which also serves light lunches in a separate building on the right, and some of the friendliest staff I've ever encountered in my travels. I've stayed here on all three of my visits to Barra.

 

One last stiff hike up all those steps. There is a separate handicapped entrance via a rear driveway.

The hotel's restaurant is popular, and with good reason, among the locals and the guests of the nearby B&Bs. It's essential to have a reservation for dinner, and making them in advance, by phone or email, is a good idea. One thing's for sure -- bring a big appetite. I had soup as a starter one night, no starter the next night. The main courses were monumental enough -- like this plate of tail-on breaded and fried scampi with chips and salad, and tartar sauce served on the half shell.

The second night I had an equally enormous Scottish take on Pad Thai, and it was terrific too.

 

Even more monumental was the breakfast, included in the room rate. You are invited to help yourself to the buffet of cold cereals, oatmeal, fruit, and toast while your cooked breakfast is being prepared in the kitchen. And when it arrives, if you ordered the Full Scottish Breakfast, there are no less than ten (10) separate items on the plate.

 

The complete list: eggs as you choose, bacon, banger sausage, Lorne sausage (the square one), black pudding, fried potato cake, potato scone, grilled tomato, grilled mushrooms, and baked beans. I couldn't finish either of those meals!

 

As the photo on arrival suggests, Castlebay is really just a village. It's gotten a bit bigger and more populous since my last visit, mainly because it is the ferry port. Apart from that detail, though, Barra's population is spread out in a wide range of small settlements all around the island. There are small inns or B&Bs in several other parts of the island as well. 

The next island south of Barra is called Vatersay, and it is now physically linked to Barra by a causeway for the road. In many ways, the two islands function as a single unit, although there's also a bit of stubborn insistence on the differences. The total population of both islands together is approximately 1300 people.

Well, now that I'm here and without a vehicle, that means that my walking tours would be confined to roaming around the Castlebay area. That was fine with me. I only had one full day on Barra anyway, since I arrived by ferry in time to get dinner on Wednesday night and had to be back on the ferry by 6:30 am on Friday morning. For those who wish to stay longer, there are some scheduled bus services around Barra, and even to Vatersay, with small mini-buses.

 

My first walk in the morning was to climb the hills west of the harbour, up to the Barra and Vatersay War Memorial. That gave me a good hike -- about an hour outbound, 50 minutes back -- and a good bit of a climb as well, since the walk ends with a 500-metre long hill at 12% grade.

 

As I set out, I got a good view along the main street of Castlebay, westwards from my hotel, which shows several other hotels and B&Bs among the other houses.

 

 

The halfway point of the walk is the point where you turn off the main island road, which is actually classified as a principal highway. It's the A888. The road to the Vatersay causeway is unclassified. Here's the intersection.

Notice right away how the Scots Gaelic comes before the English on the direction sign. It's not just a token gesture -- about 60% of the population of Barra and Vatersay speak Gaelic. Next, notice the blue sign regarding the Hebridean Way cycling route. At this point, "North" will take you around Barra on the A888 to the ferry landing at Ard Mhor where the smaller Calmac ferry sails several times a day to Eriskay, giving access to the more northerly islands of the Hebrides chain. The road to Vatersay is, of course, "South" because Vatersay is the most southerly inhabited island of the Hebrides.

Next, look carefully at the road and you'll see that this is the point at which the road narrows down to just one lane. These "single-track roads" are regular features of driving in the Hebrides, and indeed all over the Highlands. But, you may ask, what happens if someone comes the other way? This picture taken as I walked south on the Vatersay road gives the answer.

The "Passing Place" sign is always a white square, although it doesn't always have text on it, and in many places it can be tilted 45 degrees to make it into a diamond shape. It's at a spot where the road gets a bit wider. You can see the next "Passing Place" sign a bit farther down the road -- usually a matter of several hundred feet. The rule is simple. Between here and the next passing place, a driver has the right of way. Another driver, arriving at the further white sign, must pull over and wait. It's a social custom to give a friendly little "thank-you" wave to the driver who has waited for you.

 

Another intriguing feature on this road, which is common to roads all over the Highlands and Islands, is shown here.

 

Sheep and cattle are allowed to range and feed freely over large areas of grazing land, rather than being confined in fenced pastures. It's the villages that are fenced in! The grids are used to keep the animals from wandering into villages and helping themselves to the residents' kitchen gardens or prize rose bushes. The side gate can be opened whenever it is desired to bring the animals in for any reason. Walking across the grids is a slightly tricky manoeuvre, and a necessity for cyclists.

The road became two lanes again at the long, steep hill leading up to the memorial -- for safety reasons, I would assume. Here's a picture looking down the last leg of the hill to give you an idea of the grade.

If you look at all my photographs of the roads, there are almost no vehicles visible in any of them. One of the most striking things about Barra, and a real stress reliever as well, is the near-total absence of vehicle traffic in any reasonable sense of the word. There's one rush hour per day, and it's at 6:00 pm when the ferry arrives from Oban and unloads. Otherwise, the stillness is what you notice. When a car does come along, you can usually hear it long before you see it. There's a lot of peace to be had by finding places we can go, where that endless noise that rules our everyday lives actually gets switched off.

 

Then I reached the crest of the climb and the war memorial. It's a three-sided column with stylized pieces stretching out from the top corners, which -- depending on the angle you view them -- could be birds, or they could be antlers.

 

I'm showing just one side so you can see how the names are organized by individual communities, and with the initials to identify the branch of service of each one. Many of the names, especially in World War Two, were identified as "MN" -- Merchant Navy. It's not surprising that so many of the young men of island communities with fishing an integral part of their lives would choose to serve in seafaring capacities.

There's a broad panorama of Castlebay from the hilltop site of the memorial. Like almost every community I've seen in the Hebrides, apart from the "city" of Stornoway on the Isle of Lewis, the houses spread broadly across the landscape, with plenty of space the rule. The one exception in Castlebay is the short road which runs around the "waterfront" in the area by the ferry dock. There you will find the post office, a cafe, a tour boat office, and the ferry terminal all placed in close proximity to each other.

The misty air is a commonplace in Barra, with the summit of the island's tallest mountain, Heaval, concealed in the clouds, although it did get much sunnier later in the day. I think that slightly misty air is part of the special atmosphere of Barra. It can get quite bright, even sunny, without the air ever entirely losing that misty softness. It's a gift from the Atlantic Ocean, which was right behind me, a mile or so away, when I took this photo. The next solid land in that direction is Labrador.

 

Add in the exhilaration of climbing that hill and getting to that view, and it suddenly became easy for me to understand why so many Scots authors have equated the Outer Hebrides with Tìr na h-Òigridh (the magical land of youth) which by tradition was located somewhere out in the middle of the ocean. Now I'm convinced too. Barra is the place, and this feeling of renewal was what I took away with me. Barra provided me with the perfect opportunity to shed stress and drop a few years in the process. Ponce de Leon was looking in the wrong place!

 

(Just by the way, I'm using the Scots Gaelic spelling given to me by Google Translate. If I have any Scots Gaelic-speaking friends who can set me straight on this, I'd be glad to hear from them.)

 

I'm sure some of my readers are wondering by this time why I'm avoiding the topic of the castle which gives Castlebay (Bàigh a' Chaisteil) its name! Well, here goes. 

 

Kisimul Castle (pronounced "kish-mool") is the dramatic centrepiece of Castlebay. It was the stronghold through the centuries of the Chieftains of the Clan MacNeil of Barra, a clan which was small but fiercely proud nonetheless. For an entire century, from 1838 when the island was sold until 1937, the castle was abandoned. It fell to the then-Chieftain, Robert Lister MacNeil of Baltimore, who purchased the estate again and set to work restoring the castle. The form in which the building currently stands is largely the result of his work, which ended with his death in 1970. His son, as Chieftain, rented the Castle in 2001 to the organization Historic Scotland (now absorbed into the Historic Environment Scotland government department) for 1000 years, for an annual rental of £1 and a bottle of Talisker whisky (the man certainly had good taste!).

Historic Environment Scotland continues to have responsibility for the Castle and for the archaeological and structural remedial work which is ongoing there. As a result, the castle remains (as it has been for years) closed to visitors.  And now you know why I haven't said anything about going there! Grrr. I'll get back to my best picture of Kisimul Castle at the end of this post.

 

My second walk of the day was just as enjoyable, but neither as long nor as challenging. I left at about ten past five in the afternoon, in the golden glow of the afternoon sun, and walked to the east. 

 

This picture shows two more of the small hotels of the Castlebay area, as well as the church of Our Lady, Star of the Sea. Roman Catholicism is the dominant religion of Barra and Vatersay. You have to get up to the midpoint of the entire Hebridean chain for the doctrinaire puritanism of the Reformed Free Kirk of Scotland to dominate. It's one of the oddities of the southern end of the Hebridean chain that the Roman Catholic faith is so strong here. Barra has five Roman Catholic churches and one small (I'm tempted to say token) Free Kirk. 

At the bottom of the hill, I turned right onto the road leading down to the harbour. Just a pleasant walk around the shoreline. The road is one way only, right around to the ferry dock where it feeds into the parking lanes for traffic boarding the ferry, and then back up to the main road where the traffic coming off the ferry will go.

A significant sight along the way, and one not much understood outside the UK, is the Barra Lifeboat.

According to the placard, 349 boats like this are positioned all around the coasts of the British Isles, providing key search and rescue services which in Canada and many other countries are handled by governmental departments. But the Royal National Lifeboat Institute is not a governmental body -- it's a charitable organization!

Passing by the ferry dock, I started climbing back up the hill towards the hotel, and found a small bench where I could sit and watch the ferry arrive. Here's a set of three pictures showing the Isle of Lewis making its way into the bay and then swinging around to tuck itself into the berth, stern-first.

If it looks like a tight fit with Kisimul Castle in the final picture, that's not an illusion. There isn't really any space to spare, When the ship leaves the pier, it has to swing sideways away from the outer end of the pier until it can begin to move ahead without running aground on the Castle island!

 

With that, I knew that my quiet time on Barra was nearly at an end. I'd have to leave by 6:15 in the morning to walk down to the pier, which meant that I would miss a second crack at that enormous Scottish breakfast in the Castlebay Hotel. Fortunately, Calmac also dishes up a mean Scottish breakfast in the cafeterias on their ships.

 

So I ended the night, shortly before going early to bed, with this picture, taken from my room, of the castle, glowing in the golden light of the descending sun. Sheer magic. Tìr na h-Òigridh, indeed.