The Holy Isle

I think it took me all of yesterday to shift my headspace to feel more myself. We hoped to make the crossing to Holy Island but our luck looked to be out when there was no sign of any ferry or even a ferryman. We'd already heard that he sometimes couldn't be bothered to run the service! The forecast was for torrential rain to be soon arriving so we wouldn't have blamed him. Perhaps it was the sight of the two attractive young women who had joined us on our adventure that encouraged him out. It wasn't long before he had recruited one to help him go and retrieve the little ferry from its mooring, and then have the other take the wheel on the way over to the small island. I think Jim is a bit of a flirt.

Once we landed I took off quickly to get to the highest point but failed to reach the 314m summit of Mullach Mor before the weather closed in. Despite the fierce winds and driving rain it was still a spectacular walk, as was the return along the coastal path. We were welcomed back by one of the island's current residents who supplied us with tea and biscuits, and a fire to warm up by while we waited for Jim to return to take us back to the main island. Somehow, getting thoroughly soaked and cold added to the adventure. I feel like I want to seek out comfort at the moment, but I never seem to find it.