Timing, Tides, and Kindness

I intended to stay another night at this campsite and do an out-and-back day ride up to the top of Lewis. On the way there I stopped at the Galson Estate Business Centre to see an art exhibition and to say hello to a Warmshowers host I’d been in touch with. Philly and I had exchanged a few messages, but I’d been left with the impression that she had a lot on, including exhibiting her artwork at this show. I was keen though to have a look at the exhibition and just touch base with her. 

After a bit of a chat, Philly was insistent that I did stay with her at her house in Ness. She also mentioned there was a ceilidh on at the Ness Community Centre that evening which clinched the deal. Philly was going into Stornoway in the afternoon, so we arranged to meet up at her house later. 

I headed back to the campsite to pack up. I’d had some difficulty contacting the owner to find out the price and, more to the point, how to pay. It turned out I’d probably already met her the day before, as she’d been volunteering at the burger stall at the Westside Show. Apparently that community event had gone on into the wee small hours, as these things do. I left the agreed sum in the honesty box in the campers’ kitchen and set off again up the road to Port of Ness.

Ness, like many of the villages in the Outer Hebrides, had less to offer than I’d initially anticipated, or perhaps I simply timed my visits badly. I’d have liked to visit the museum and café at the Ness Historical Society but it was a Saturday and their opening hours ran from Monday to Friday. It was my first encounter with the unpredictable opening, and especially closing, times, which varied widely across the islands. Instead, I settled for a good, if pricey, meal at The Breakwater Café before heading out to the Butt of Lewis.

The misnamed Butt is the most northerly point on the island of Lewis and the official end of the Hebridean Way cycle route. To my mind, a “butt” sounds like it ought to be at the bottom rather than the top, but there it is all the same, marking the end of the line. I would be following this 185-mile route, albeit in the wrong direction, down through the Outer Hebrides. The red-brick lighthouse stands fast on the windswept promontory: a very dramatic location.

After a walk around the headland, I headed back to Ness township and found my way to Philly’s house. She invited me to join her for her daily swim at Ness Beach, where we met up with some of her friends for a dip in the cold Atlantic. It was exhilarating, and it made me wish I were brave enough to swim when I’m on my own but, sadly, I don’t seem able to do that without a bit of encouragement. Invigorated, we returned to Philly’s house, where I took forty winks before we headed out to the ceilidh. It was great fun!

It was interesting to listen to Philly and her friend Margaret talk about how they had found island life. Both were incomers, warmly welcomed, yet still outsiders. That felt natural enough on islands where most people know one another, along with each other’s family histories, stretching back generations.

Both Philly and Margaret were creative, clearly shaped by the landscape around them. Philly told me she had only taken up art after moving to Lewis, something the place itself seemed to have unlocked.

Even in a short visit, this felt like an introduction to island life.