Huisinish 6 July 2015 Twelve miles of single-track coastal road passing a Norwegian-built whaling station sets the scene for Huisinis on the west coast of Harris, looking out to the island of Scarp and the Atlantic Ocean. Weather colours the day. Wimbledon basked in the hottest July day ever. But this is Atlantic Coast and we’re prepared for Atlantic weather: cloud, wind and rain. Dreadful summer, the locals say. We don’t expect fine weather, but the effect of bright sun is breathtaking.
The shell-sand beaches of Huisinis gleam cream and white and the sea shades from aquamarine through the subtlest blues and tints of pink that come from who knows where. It’s magic. We stop to marvel long before we reach our destination. Huisinish, Huisinis- Gaelic is fun, and bewildering. Letters cluster in unfamiliar pattern and variant spellings occur on maps and guides. English must have been as unpredictable before Dr Johnson pinned it down in his dictionary. We listen to the pronunciation of ‘machair’ and try it out. Hilarious and elusive. Machair those shell-sand ‘sea meadows’ dense with daisies and buttercups and with a richer flora- like those tall long headed-poppies and yellow violas.
Leaving the beach we head out across the machair where rabbits scurry for cover. The sandy bank is tunnelled with burrows that resemble a row of gun emplacements. Our track used to link Huisinis with the nearest settlement, a cliff-face path looking down upon a brilliant sea. As we approach the deserted Crabhadail lazy beds run down to the sea. Hardly lazy. Imagine the labour involved in building all those ridge and furrows to plant potatoes. Pressure of population meant that cultivation reached up the hillside. Now daisies in the furrows highlight the rows of lazy beds.
Leaving the beach we head out across the machair where rabbits scurry for cover. The sandy bank is tunnelled with burrows that resemble a row of gun emplacements. Our track used to link Huisinis with the nearest settlement, a cliff-face path looking down upon a brilliant sea. As we approach the deserted Crabhadail lazy beds run down to the sea. Hardly lazy. Imagine the labour involved in building all those ridge and furrows to plant potatoes. Pressure of population meant that cultivation reached up the hillside. Now daisies in the furrows highlight the rows of lazy beds.
Beach with machair and lazy beds, by Craghadail
Cloud rolls in off the Atlantic, even though the sun shines brightly, and billows about a bowl of the North Harris hills. Beautiful illuminated cloud. Sun glosses the sands on the beach, reflecting cloud, and pattern enthralls me.
Atlantic cloud sits in the bowl of the north Harris hills, swirls, shifts and descends again.
We came upon a juvenile wheatear food-begging. Through a sequence of images it looked younger and fluffier, less like itself. How variable juveniles can be! A bright-eyed fledgling, fluffed up and downy in the wind. A good image needs a bright eye and light does not always fall where you want it. This beautiful creature looks so vulnerable.
July is the season for juveniles and this pipit looks wide-eyed and new to the world. With the fine breeding plumage of some adults soon to fade it's not the easiest season to identify birds. Families of stonechat were a delight.
July is the season for juveniles and this pipit looks wide-eyed and new to the world. With the fine breeding plumage of some adults soon to fade it's not the easiest season to identify birds. Families of stonechat were a delight.
 Male stonechat | |
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