Singing sands

Kerry and I are up early, but the rest of the crew have some serious sleep to catch up on. We pack up our stuff and leave them to walk over to the singing sands.

It’s another scorching day, but it’s still a lovely walk. In the middle of the island we get a couple of small tubs of homemade mint choc chip ice cream. Gone all too soon.

The sands make a funny squeaking noise when you walk on them. Not singing, but definitely odd. And the sea is cooler here.

Refreshed we retrace our steps to find the whole posse have decamped to the pier. We pick up our bags, and some other detritus, and head off. A lass called Angie stops to give the bags a lift and we have half an hour to chill out with a pint of cider and something to eat.

The Shearwater takes us back to Arisaig, where everyone is in a hurry to get home. There are fires on the A9 south of Inverness and torrential thunderstorms predicted for Glencoe.

Anyhow, we get to have a cuppa with Angus in Fort William and then leave Nick to drive us, through the water and lightning, back to Edinburgh. From Vicky’s, Kerry heads for Earlston. Nick has a camping stove to drop off at Annamaria’s and then back home.