Across the Minch
Some twenty or so miles across the Little Minch rise the mountains of Harris. I was there once, on some journey years ago. For some reason the Hebridean isles have been on my mind lately. Maybe it’s because I haven’t seen any ocean since last July, the longest period in my life, so the idea of wandering along an empty beach with a cold north wind on some wild and rugged island on the edge of the world is like a dream.