And so begins my prose

I am on the return leg of a ferry journey from Stromness. It’s been a fantastic day – both for travel and reflection. Leaving Stromness, the faintest glimmer of the thinnest crescent moon hung in the sky over Hoy. With that came the frost experienced this morning and the first penguin waddle/shuffle of careful steps along the icy path to the ferry terminal at Scrabster.

I was the only foot passenger this morning but discovered some unlikely tourists on board – out to bag some rare sighting of an autumnal migrant bird. Never mind the wheeling of the seabirds overhead or some LBJ as we entered the sound.

On my return, I could still see the range of mountains and valleys or straths over to the west coast. This time, however, they were silhouetted by the deepening orange-red glow of the sunset. With little cloud about I wondered if the west coast might be in for a sharp frost.

This will be the last return ferry journey that is done with any light, until March, I guess. I wonder if the morning ferry will traverse in the dark too?