something, over and over

Have you ever slept so near the sea that the shushing of the waves was the last sound you heard before you drifted to dreamland? I have, on Berneray, in a thatched cottage with stone walls 3 feet thick, the sea and sand just feet away...

View from our bedroom window, Berneray Hostel

I've been told there's no such thing as a bad view in Scotland, and in 2 summers I've never seen a view to prove that untrue. On Berneray, there seemed to be no such thing as anything less than a heart-tugging view of the sea. 

We spent one entire cold and rainy day in our bunks, piled with blankets and pillows, nestled down with books, only venturing out for cups of steaming tea, and trips to the loo. Even in the rain, we couldn't hurry past the view - the pull is too strong, and would too soon be behind us, for us to squander.

There was a bonfire and BBQ on the beach just past the hostel. The whole village attended, and all the travelers. Proceeds benefited the Berneray Historical Society.

The full moon stopped me in my tracks as I walked to the other cottage for a midnight trip to the restroom. The view caught me like a net every time I went outdoors, or past a window.

Midnight moon over Berneray

From the Isle of Berneray website: Berneray lies in the Sound of Harris in the Western Isles (Outer Hebrides) of Scotland. It is a small island (roughly 2 miles by 3), rich in wildlife and history.

Berneray is especially known for its beaches, such as the cockle bay, east beach, and the long sweep of white sand on the west coast, backed by high dunes and machair.

The approximately 125 permanent residents of Berneray stay mainly along the rockier east coast, forming an active and friendly community. The main industries are a mixture of the traditional (crofting and fishing), and the new (internet services, tourism, information and media work). The ferry which plies the Sound of Harris, connecting Berneray and the Uists to Harris and Lewis, is also a major employer of Berneray residents.

The sea pronounces something, over and over, in a hoarse whisper;

 I cannot quite make it out.  ~Annie Dillard

Next up: Portree, Skye!

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