Kayaking without lights, colours still vivid on the Harris machair, pinnacled by a brief darklight of ultraviolet at 2am & some tide of light returning at 3am - we oar it all the night, weavin' olden' dances - minglin' hands & minglin' glances - 'till the moon has taken flight.
It's just become apparent how swiftly we are creeping away from dark days & pale skin into warming seas & salt on the lips, bare hoofing the sands with postive strides, kayaking & rolling while half the planet sleeps. The flash on my camera is becoming reluctant to fire at 11pm, the street lights, reluctant to soak these quiet parades of stone wall in orange sodium. It's always a pleasing thing when the midnight sun starts tuning up across the Hebrides...
Returning shoreward, boosted by a 4mtr rolling swell, dragged like a compass point to climb this gate again & portage home...I fell over, all be it impromptu, & found myself laid down beside the winter bleached boards, the smell of coconut filling the air, the qajaq spine still tied to my legs...& took this shot...& slept.
78 miles solo...ending in a ditch awash with sleep, light rain tapping the bivi skin...it's a tough life :o)