Having no breakfast materials, I am up sharp and at the only shop for miles in time for its 9am opening to get bread, butter and milk.
It’s an amazing shop, very well stocked with all manner of foodstuffs and other things. Sadly they have no flasks, as I was hoping, having realised at some too-late point on the A9 that I had left mine at home. I pick up a hat instead, which I accept is not technically a good substitute for a flask, but one can never have too many hats.
The sun is out. My hat is not even needed. I decided to head south to Harris and maybe Luskentyre for a swim. Am wary of going in for a swim alone, and the beaches here are renowned for being deserted, but Luskentyre is, I understand, pretty famous, so I can be sure of a few folk floating around. Perhaps literally.
The drive south proves to be epic in the September sunshine, with gorgeous vistas at every turn as the road climbs through the hills.
Luskentyre beach, I discover, is at the end of three miles of properly single track road, which takes a certain amount of navigating, and proves to be reasonably busy, in that there were about fifteen people there.
The beach is gorgeous, with turquoise water framed by the hills of Taransay beyond. I swim for about twenty minutes, no wetsuit required. I like to think I spoiled a reasonable number of Instagram shots.
I stop at a beach hut on the way back out, pick up an Isle of Harris-branded flask and have a cup of tea on a bench with a stunning view over to Seilebost.
Back at the Pod, I make dinner with some locally-smoked salmon, and walk back to the Mangersta Cliffs, hoping to find the famous Mangersta Bothy which my elusive friend had alerted me to, but I fail in my quest. Instead I unexpectedly find a bull, who gives me a baleful look, and I beat a hasty retreat back to the Pod.
Tonight it’s a clear night, the sky is packed with stars, and maybe even a slight aurora on the northern horizon.