A gift from the moisture of the atmosphere

On a cool rainy day on the Isle of Skye, Graz and I wound our way by car on a tiny road down to the sea on the opposite side of the island. We passed an old stone ruin of a church and its silent cemetary high on the green slopes. Mist hung close by; rain poured peacefully. The air was mild enough.

We debated the merits of getting out for a walk, versus staying dry. We passed a lone mailbox. We passed a quiet house. We saw the inlet down below and descended to the road that wound along it. The rainwater gushed down a couple of storm gullies, under the road through overwhelmed culverts. A few birds of unfamiliar shape and colour floated on the water (gannets and others). Sheep stood in groups by the road, unperturbed. Here, we got out into the green-grey-white landscape and soaked in the moisture of the atmosphere.

We held our raincoat collars tight and stepped comfortably along the shore in our dry boots. Rain fell at a slant though and quickly soaked our legs. A few people drove by us. Graz said she saw them gawking at us as if we were crazy tourists. Hmm.

Graz saw a sea otter grooming itself methodically in the shallows amid some seaweed and smooth rocks. It looked like a dark smooth rock itself but for the rythmic movement of its head licking its fur. My photo came up unimpressive. A snapshot of a smooth rock. You had to be there to see it.

Brave as we were, we agreed upon a reasonable plan of getting back in the car and heading for our warm B&B and a good fish and chip meal and some ale.