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We change what’s planned in response to demand
For a day transportation-free
So we tweak our route and decide to shoot
To Port of Ness and back by 3:00.
This will give us a chance to prepare in advance
For a musical night on the island
We agree a meal venue and check out their menu
All we need is to find a live band.
Back on the road our rhythm has slowed
The air is fresh, cool & new
But miles across moor, are a bit of a bore
Till the lighthouse comes into view.
At the tip of the isle we just have to smile
Having come such a long way for this
It’s grim and it’s tragic but still there’s some magic
In the desolation of Nis.
At the point, on the rocks, there are seabirds in flocks
But, to me, all gulls look the same
So from deep in his brain, Den takes care to explain
How the fulmar came by its name.
The houses are grey like the drab of the day
No colour, nothing bold, nothing brash
As we stick to our task, just one question I ask
Who profits from all the pebbledash?
From the coast heading back, in need of a snack
The Wobbly Dog looms round a bend
In through the door, met by a roar
Lots of locals who’re here each weekend.
With the owner we quip and ask for a tip
To lift up our hearts and be borne away
“Well, McNeill’s in the strand will have a fine band,
It’s the best place for music in Stornoway.”
We pedal away in the heat of the day
It must be at least 8 degrees
Our return is eventless, the headwind’s relentless
And I finish the ride on my knees.
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