Sands and Stones

Following a violent storm in 1831, chess pieces of walrus ivory were discovered in a cache beneath the sand on the southwestern coast of Lewis. The chessmen, with their beloved startling expressions, were most likely  made in 12C Norway and stolen by Viking raiders. 78 exist, most in the British Museum, the remainder in Edinburgh, but six returned to tiny Uig where they were found for one day last summer. Though the original chessmen are of normal size, a local artist was commissioned to re-create several; here is one figure, almost twice my height:

And another:

I would like to buy a replica--normal size!--of just one, no luck yet.

The sands of Uig are vast and golden, apparently the Atlantic Ocean is skilled at making sand. The tide was out so I walked just a bit, picked up some tiny shells; that's my way.

 The blue sky came and went all day, lovely.

Bernera, another small peninsula,has more golden sands. These are glorious beaches; unfortunately the cold North Atlantic does not lend itself to swimming or even sun bathing.

On a Bernera beach at Bosta, after another terrible storm, was discovered the remains of an Iron Age village. One house has been reconstructed. Having been build much more recently than Skara Brae on Orkney, it closely resembles a local blackhouse, with its thatched roof and oblong shape. A peat fire smoldered in the firepit, what an evocative scent.

On our way back to the mainland, we cam across this fine fellow:

And finally to Callanish, to see the stones again. They are sited on a low hill with lochs nearby, though not immediately adjacent, on either side.

I prefer not to have people among the stones, but I left this fellow in (above) to give a sense of the scale of the stones.

The stones appear to be engaged in conversation. As you know, they have a powerful effect on me and some others, though not on everyone. A magical place--but then--a coach arrived and people streamed onto the field. We left, returning after dinner. 

I have shared my tears at this place and deeply lamented having to leave it again, possibly forever. The sun was still fairly high, but there were fewer people. One of them, though, was flying a kite. A kite!!! Can you imagine my irritation?!!! I wandered, taking photographs, mostly it seems, from the same vantage points. I was fastidious about avoiding the kite in any of them, but when I returned to my quiet room, I realized that it was okay to leave, that the kite was good, that Chuck is like that kite--coloreful and bright and free, soaring and soaring. 'Lo, I am with you always, even to the ends of the earth.' Even to the Isle of Lewis.