The stones of Callanish were still busy. We were going to need supplies… and still needed to refuel the car and pump up the dratted tyre yet again. We thought it was time to leave the stones behind and drive into Stornoway, the largest town on the island, to do the needful. The trouble was, we would have to pass a couple of sites on the way… and it would take a fair bit of discipline to simply drive past without stopping.
In my memory, we went straight from Callanish to the next site, but according to the time-stamp on the photographs, we must have succeeded in resisting temptation. The facilities of civilisation were, by that point, very necessary, and we had already learned that twenty-four hour opening had not been adopted this far north. We didn’t want to miss our chance and be caught with another flat tyre and nothing to eat that evening. Stornoway, with its own history, ancient fortifications and doubtless many places to eat and sleep, somehow did not manage to register in consciousness although it did provide us with the first non-ovine traffic jam we had seen for nearly a week.
We drove around the town twice, finding our way and noting that it seemed a lovely little place… and, having thus damned Stornoway with such faint praise, headed back towards Callanish as fast as the roads would take us. Towns, apparently, were not where we were supposed to be. Instead, and sensibly, we headed back towards Alpacaccino’s for another cuppa and a brownie to die for. Not only that, there were plug sockets with an invitation to recharge phones and batteries… something else we didn’t want taking us unawares again… After a night in the car and a couple of hours with the stones, pretty much everything was without charge. And then we were back on the trail.
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