"About 700. We only need to make a few hundred more."
That answered my query about the large numbers of hats on the table and floor. The women were knitting busily while I got put to work making bobbles for the tops. I had been invited to the ladies knitting night on Barra, and was enjoying the gossip that switched in and out of Gaelic while I finished pom-pom after pom-pom. When it finished, I walked outside and gave my backpack to my new friend on a bike, started walking, and hitched a ride back to the campground. I liked Barra.
Even though I arrived after dark, because the ferry was delayed first in Oban and then slightly more from the rough waters, and I started walking the three miles out to the campground in the rain. But I just laughed with my new friend from the ferry ride about the situation, and was surprised when the campground host met us halfway to give us a lift.
And then I awoke on the beach, looking out to the west and watching the waves hit the shore. I walked back into Castlebay and visited the community center/craft store. In addition to having working wifi (a rare and precious commodity), they were teaching a crocheting class! You can guess what I did all afternoon. I was taken in quickly by the group to help teach the younger girls how to crochet, which was surprisingly successful given that I'm left handed so all my instructions had to be reversed, and was rewarded when they finished their small bracelets and tied them into their wrists. I also learned a few new stitches from the woman in charge, and spent a happy few hours crocheting in the warm room and listening to the stories about the island. The two young girls had flown in, and were happy to share the tales of landing on the beach (only at low tide) with someone as excited as I was.
I wandered back to my tent, and I went to make tea, and was invited to tag along to the Ceilidh that evening with a few women from the campground (and a bottle of whisky). This turned out to be one of my best decisions in Scotland. We smiled and clapped through song after song with nearly every person on the island. This included an electronic bagpipe, more accordions than I had seen since leaving Minnesota for college, a young French piano player, one talented highland dancer, and a few social dances that made me wish for my favorite dance partners. And perhaps most surprising, a call for an open mic piece that was answered by a Canadian getting up to sing Barrett's Privateers. I was the only person in the room that could help him out on the chorus.
The next day I decided to go for a walk. As usual, the weather resisted this decision, and I ended up getting picked up off the side of the road in the rain by an elderly gentleman who thought I looked "a wee bit cold". And thus began my series of Scottish hitch hiking adventures. Once the rain stopped I made my way into Castlebay again, and eventually did manage to find a cup of coffee and somewhere dry to sit until it was time to meet my honorary-local-campground friend at the ladies knitting circle. And here I just relaxed, explained how I had ended up in Barra, and listened to the women discuss island life. My favorite was when they said that the two hardest things about island life were "delivery and delivery": getting anything to the island, and having children on the island. The nearest hospital is roughly three islands away, depending on how you count.
And with the good wishes of these women, a new crochet hook, the insight that one should not walk away from their tent without their rainpants and one should accept any invitation including the word "music", a hope to return someday on an airplane bound for the beach at low tide, and an offer of a ride to the ferry from a new friend, I made my way north to the next island.
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