The therapeutic benefits of an uneventful bus journey
A fair few years ago today I rode a bus across the Scottish island of Harris to catch the ferry from Stornaway back to the mainland.
It wasn’t particularly memorable trip. The bus didn’t break down. I didn’t strike up a conversation with a colourful local. I wasn’t invited along to Burns Night celebration or offered a slug of the local dram.
I just sat in my seat, watched the world go by and got lost in my thoughts.
I make no apology for these photos either.
They were randomly snapped from the window as the bus drove past.
A stormy, windswept beach barely visible through the rear doorwell.
A hill dusted with snow. An isolated house beside a loch.
A pool of water, a common sight on the island once we got past Tarbert.
They’re a little bit blurred. A little bit wonky. And little bit erratic.
But for me they are also really evocative.
Of a day when I experienced the many moods of Harris, safely cocooned in a bus as it was lashed by rain blowing in straight of the North Atlantic Ocean.
Sometimes, when you’re travelling, that’s exactly the kind of day you need.