Sitting in a little wooden cabin, back on the Isle of Skye, looking out in the fading evening light towards North Uist and the Isle of Harris. It’s been raining, hard, all day, but there is a chink in the sky. The distant hills and mountains are hiding one minute and revealed the next, albeit, brief interlude in the rain. The wind is picking up and the clouds are rolling like thunder across the sky, it’s hard to see if the water is being picked up off the sea or coming down to rejoin it. But the waves are quiet and the sea gently laps at the shore, the sparkly of light on the sea reflecting the touch of sunlight above. It will be dark soon, the sun setting somewhere behind the clouds….somewhere, out west, where the none to distant shore of Uist meets the unforgiving Atlantic.