Isle of Harris, Day 6. Time and Tide Bell and Golden Eagle on Great Bernara

We wanted to be up early this morning and were aided by the incessant calling of a cuckoo outside the cottage. Away quickly we stopped at the filling station/store for provisions before continuing steeply up into the stark, majestic Harris mountains with the mighty An Clisham rising on one side and dizzying views down to the inky depths of the sinuous, fjord-like Loch Seaforth on the other. The roads up through the mountains and on into the rolling scenery of Lewis were exceptionally good even when we turned off the main Stornaway road. Eventually, though, as we approached Great Bernara and crossed over the bridge to another island, it narrowed to single track with passing places. Just before reaching the road head carpark we pulled in to allow an oncoming car through and noticed a sign warning of disturbance to nesting golden eagles. Looking around, unbelievably, we spotted two soaring above the hillside. Even more unbelievable was when one bird returned and was just above us. This time I was quick enough to grab a photo. But what stunning views of this majestic bird. Just as stunning was Bostah Beach, a scimitar like curve of pure white sand. The sea was the usual pallete of colours ranging from Quink blue-black into turquoise, jade green and even white where the shallowest crystal clear water ran over the sand. In the bay was a perfect white yacht with polished mahogany superstructure. When it raised its sheets and sailed out past the craggy Floddaidh Isles it completed the picture. To one side of the bay was the main objective of our visit: a Time and Tide Bell fixed to some seaweed clad rocks surrounded by limpid turquoise water. We had found our first Time and Tide Bell at Mablethorpe on the Lincolnshire coast and have since visited others in Aberdovey and Morecambe. They are designed by artist Marcus Vergette  and are a statement about climate change and sea level rise. When the tide comes in the bells ring and as water levels rise the tone of the bell alters. Before leaving we went to the pictish, iron age roundhouse for a fascinating talk in the subterranean stygian gloom of the building. The reconstructed remains of one of five that have been discovered, it dates from 850 AD and would once have housed around twelve people.

Eventually it was time to leave and we retraced our tracks until we reached the stone circles of Callanish. Evocative, haunting and believed to be older than both Stonehenge and the Pyramids of Giza, they are hewn from otherwise undentable Lewisian gneiss. A central, lichen-draped, monolith 12 feet high is surrounded by a circle of 13 lesser stones, while lines or avenues of other stones lead away to all points of the compass. The fine grained, pea-green stones were erected nearly 5000 years ago. Amazingly there is no entry fee and it is open 24hours.

Beer o'clock was now approaching so we headed back home to be greeted by our tame local chickens running down the road to meet us. Pasta bake consumed, it was time for a malt in front of the log burner and bed.