21 July 2024

I have abandoned the idea of tripping to the Mainland, which was largely driven by running low on food. There is still plenty to do on the Egilsay/Wyre/Rousay trio on my doorstep. So I will ration (what an unsexy word) my supplies. It will be a lentil-intense finale to my stay.

Since I didn’t make it to the skerries on the far northern tip I decide to try for the south. Walking south from the pier, I am captivated by details – the colour of the different seaweeds, the lamination of the rocks. This is slow tourism, quasi meditative, very relaxing.

Four yachts pass in front of Wyre, a signal that the Day 2 of the Rousay celebrations are taking place. The wind is just blowing in the right direction to keep a passing squall away from me.

At the skerry at the southern tip of the island I have an extraordinarily spacious view. Turning the corner and coming north again seals bob up and down.

When the sun comes out the world fizzes with life. A balmy 14°, which allows lazy stopoffs, makes all the difference.

I have an awkward time getting around Howden, the ochre house, when impassable rocks push me inland through waste-high nettles and lumpy-bumpy grass with treacherous holes. But all ends well. I have a fabulous swim in my usual place, the Arctic terns bombing vertically around me. 

And then a sensational sunset.