Garbhlach Mhor

Yesterday evening, against a sunset which turned the clouds lilac, they were burning the bracken on one of the crofts in Ormsaigbeg. It's an ideal time to do it but, with the land so unusually dry, they kept a careful watch on the fire.

This morning, after checking on the turbine at the lighthouse, which looks as if it is ready to be lifted into place, we left the car at a gate about half-a-mile back along the road and walked south across heavy going towards Port Min. Port Min is a narrow, northwest-facing bay backed by a white sand beach. On the hill overlooking the bay is an abandoned stone croft house.

Walking on, we came to Port Garbh, the word garbh in Gaelic meaning 'rough', a rockier and far less friendly bay than Port Min. There we watched the crabber, the Jean Francis, which we'd seen going north yesterday, coming back south through a heavy swell.

Looking further south, towards Garblach Mhor, we saw two large raptors on the ridge line, which almost immediately took off and flew away southeastwards. They might have been buzzards but, from the way they didn't flap their wings before they disappeared from sight, it seemed more likely they were eagles. It may have been coincidence but, shortly after we arrived home in Ormsaigbeg, a sea eagle flew along the shore below the house.

In misty conditions we climbed Garblach Mhor to where we'd spotted the eagles, then walked further southeast, following a natural path along the ridge and a coastline which is spectacular in its bleak grandeur.

When we returned to the car, we hadn't seen a soul all morning.