There is always a sense of adventure as we walk by a press gang.
Nothing feels quite the same. Prints of our feet move like strangers – we wander around time like lone travellers in search of that something we once anchored in this harbour.
Too soon ago, we watched seabirds in sea mayweeds and gazed at blue in this great Atlantic casket… Our northern sun, so generous.
For two whole days, we boarded a minibus with kindred spirits from the opposite side of the world, trekked round the isle in search of gems and found ourselves in the back of beyond, our great Nordic outback, as we entered the great dormant volcano.
The views from the edge of the island’s great North West corner – Eshaness – leave you breathless.
The Wow effect flourished once more.
But now the shore changes colours.
Listen to the silence from our cliffs.
One by one, burrows will recover their original tenants – rabbits, instead of puffins. I’m still hoping for a few late leavers on Sunday. On the last day of my summer break, I will once more walk that great Head and share its magic with fellow explorers.
If summer left with the flight call of the rain goose in a majestic boreal sky,
Monday will begin with school bells…
Meantime, I shall enjoy my last hours of adventures along my shore, and keep a close eye on my very natural world. Arcania may once be shrouded in low cloud, every day feels a press gang for a brand new departure.