Harris
4 days on the island. 4 days without sun, only wind, rain and fog. Rocks, old rocks, and heather, dead heather, lie silently just outside the caravan door. It's early, 7:45 I think, and John is feeding the hens. John MacLeod, a man in his 50's who remembers when there was no electricity to speak of on the island.
John now walks up the drive to the metal shed he built some years back, fluorescent light spilling out through an open doorway guides him back inside.
I watch all of this through a rain blurred window. I try to take a picture worth remembering but it all happens so fast and the images comes out blurry, just like the window.
The lights off in the shed and John is inside the house now. We gather in his kitchen around a table for two. He switches off the radio and in doing so ends the Gaelic weather report being given. Even though they say it in Gaelic i understand what the report will be for the day, rain. We bow our heads and John says a quick, familiar prayer. One he has prayed since he was a young boy.
The porridge is hot and the bread evenly toasted. We discuss the weather, the day and how we are feeling about both. This is Harris during the winter; wet, dark, subdued, dull and grey.
As the locals say, "Welcome to another fine day in Harris."
John now walks up the drive to the metal shed he built some years back, fluorescent light spilling out through an open doorway guides him back inside.
I watch all of this through a rain blurred window. I try to take a picture worth remembering but it all happens so fast and the images comes out blurry, just like the window.
The lights off in the shed and John is inside the house now. We gather in his kitchen around a table for two. He switches off the radio and in doing so ends the Gaelic weather report being given. Even though they say it in Gaelic i understand what the report will be for the day, rain. We bow our heads and John says a quick, familiar prayer. One he has prayed since he was a young boy.
The porridge is hot and the bread evenly toasted. We discuss the weather, the day and how we are feeling about both. This is Harris during the winter; wet, dark, subdued, dull and grey.
As the locals say, "Welcome to another fine day in Harris."
posted by Corey at 3:18 AM
1 Comments:
Guten Tag Corey,
best regards from the depths of Loch Ness. Today (Sunday) I dared to swim in the deep black water as suddenly something huge sucked me down. Everything becomes dark very quickly. But I am fine.
Now I am sitting in a nice and warm living room and enjoy together with my new friend Nessie your wonderful pictures on flickr. I shall send best regards from Nessie. ;-)
Are you still in East Lewiston?
Where will be your next stop?
If there is some time, money and interest left, you can visit my little diary-blog. Unfortunately almost every word is in German, but hopefully the pictures (not as good as yours, but maybe because I am just too lazy to edit them) will tell you the story. Click on a "active" day and the article with the photos will be shown.
http://duderit.wordpress.com
Have fun and there can't be bad weather, there are only the wrong clothes.
Kind Regards from the unknown deepness.
The German Dorit
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