Cliff, Isle of Lewis

We knew the view would be spectacular this morning. The sea of clearest blue cleaned the wind whipped sands. Time to take the road back, Marge, and yes there will be cows to negotiate. Right on cue they sat in silent protest as they saw us approach. Marge squeezed by, almost touching one, but thankfully not, they were big beasts. After a slow drive up steep inclines in low gears, Marge wasn't happy. Why have you gone into safe mode? We stopped, investigated and she did it again. Thankfully, the rest of the day passed uneventfully. 

Our drive took us to Gallan Head, the most north west point of the outer Hebrides. A former deserted  MOD site greeted us along with scruffy houses and rubbish, What a dump! The cafe, called the Edge was recommended in one of our guide books. Angela ventured in. The woman she spoke to was rude, and seemingly not really interested in customers. 'We don't advertise we're here, we like to keep ourselves to ourselves'. O.K. Good business plan. We drove off! We felt like we were in the bad lands as we negotiated roads across peat bogs and around small lakes looking for an escape route.

Cliff, our overnight stop was a welcome sight. Parking on the machair right above the beach, it was like paradise. Five pounds in the donation box was all that was required to enjoy this beautiful place. We settled Marge and walked up onto the cliffs, sitting for a while to look back down onto the bay. What a view. And yes Marge we can see you down there.