Berneray trip. The good parts.

There were many highlights to our short stay in Berneray. Here is what stood out.

1. The beach on the west side of the island. I walked the length of this beach three times, and marveled in the purity of the experience on all three occasions. Zero, and I mean zero, pollution of any kind. Fresh air. Spectacular views of islands and hills. Unspoilt sand. No people.

Unlike the smaller east beach, which we avoided after the incident between the female hostelers and the local thug, this beach had a much calming effect on the soul and mind. It's probably here that I realised that I really did want to move away from the hellhole that is the midlands, with endless traffic, anger, cars, concrete and tarmac, and move to somewhere like this.

2. The gentleman on the tractor near to the beach. On my own, I had possibly the most sustaining and positive, life affirming, conversation I have had with an individual in years, if not decades. The gentleman - I suspect from his demeanor and words he was ex-forces - was a worldly man, welcoming to the island and knowledgeable of cattle and the machair. He possessed a calm and peace about him that I admit I envied somewhat.

3. Another gentleman, who invited myself in for a drink. It's odd; on the mainland, if a stranger invites you into his house for a drink, the immediate reaction is one of extreme suspicion as to his motives. Here,  one loses those fears and dark thoughts.

We chatted for what turned out to be two hours. He said some surprisingly personal things about his circumstances and those of his ancestors, which I am not going to repeat here as that feels inappropriate. And the "drink" turned out to be the equivalent of a large mug, filled with whisky, which I could not finish. The remainder of my walk back to the expensive army barracks which masqueraded as a hostel was warm, but perhaps not as direct as it could have been...

When I return, I will make a point of bringing him a bottle of single malt.

4. The children. My God, they were polite, and friendly. This shocked me, living in a life-sapping English city containing kids best described as feral, and perhaps alien to the basics of civilised society. These children on Berneray had manners, and spoke well. And didn't spit, swear, or beg money from you, which is sadly more the norm than the exception in Coventry. The local children of Berneray: a credit to themselves, their parents and the local schooling. On the basis of this alone, they deserve success in life.

5. The small but interesting and informative museum on the island, with the friendly guide who provided information on where to walk around the island and what to see. It is notable that larger and more populated islands in Scotland do not provide such a good service. And do not get me started about the "official" tourist offices of Scotland, whose sole existence seems to be geared to extracting inflated fees from English tourists. Avoid, and visit places like the museum in Berneray for your information needs instead.

6. The view from the top of the hill. I do not possess an adequate vocabulary to describe the view, so I won't even try. I would just advise you to climb the small hill and see for yourself.

There were other 'highlights', but those are the things that stood out from our short trip to Berneray.