The Storm Hits

When I arrived at Wavecrest campsite, I realised the name didn’t exactly inspire confidence as a place to sit out a storm. On this Sunday afternoon it was a calm spot, with uninterrupted views of Atlantic waves rolling gently in. I suspected that this might change.

I was greeted by the owner, Donald, who was clearly concerned about me staying in my tent. He said he had an idea. Oh good, I thought, assuming he was about to offer me something solid and enclosed. His solution, it turned out, was to park a sheep trailer in front of the pitch. Oh well. Hopefully that would do the job. I did move the plastic chair from the pitch. Safety, and all that.

Knowing I was likely to be grounded the next day, I cycled into Castlebay. Despite it being a Sunday, I was pleasantly surprised to find the supermarket, a café, and a pub all open, highlighting the contrast between the largely Catholic south and the more strictly observed Presbyterian traditions of the north. I availed myself of all three amenities before returning to the campsite, where I discovered I had acquired a close companion.

In the unlikely event that “Otto” reads this, he’ll be able to remind me of his real name. I’m slightly ashamed to admit that, despite spending the whole of the following day with him and a handful of other strays in the close quarters of the campers’ kitchen, I no longer remember it.

I managed a decent night’s sleep before poking my head out of the tent at around 9am. The wind had picked up significantly and Otto was already packing away his tent. I followed suit and we helped each other decamp—no easy task in the strengthening gusts. At one point Otto lost his grip on his sleeping mat, which sailed straight into a barbed-wire fence. Not a good combination.

In the campers’ kitchen we were joined by two other campers and a couple staying in one of the shepherd huts. We spent an hour or so attempting unsuccessfully to repair the damaged sleeping mat and chatting in a desultory way, but it was a long day. By evening the storm had eased and we were able to pitch our tents again, this time feeling a little more secure and relieved to have come through Storm Floris relatively unscathed.