Daily Archives: August 8, 2019

Dreaming Stones: Disaster, panic and a touch of magic…

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

We were at the little port of Uig early…we were leaving nothing to chance. We knew there was a restroom we could use, a garage and, if it were open at that time of morning, a café where we could get a cup of coffee… all within yards of the queue for the ferry. Sorted.

Not knowing what the amenities were on Harris, and with a very soggy, self-deflating tyre, we decided to use the facilities, then fill up with fuel and air. The garage was still closed for fuel, but the air-pump was just around the side. I put the pound into the machine, attached the hose to the tyre and waited. Nothing happened. We tried again, another pound… still nothing. With the third pound, the pump did do something at last. Unfortunately, it was the wrong thing… and we were left with a totally flat tyre that was…

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Callanish Calling: Port Uig…

France & Vincent


I have fond memories of Holyhead and the ferry to Dublin.


These may, it is true, be now rose-tinted by time,

but I am sure that there is a pub in which we

enjoyed lunch and a couple of pints before boarding the ferry.


Uig is not like that.

It is more a drive to it, join the queue,

and board the ferry sort of place…


Which we eventually did,

but not before that dour Old Man of Storr

had a last go at us

by sucking the air out of one of our tyres.


A taciturn farewell from the petrol station attendant

and we were away from that now damp and dismal looking place

and heading toward what looked, from our new vantage

on the ferry, to be a decidedly damp and dismal isle.


As we approached the new land mass

it was…

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