Haugesund

The centre of this town is quite literally the port wharf. Where there used to be bustling fishing and cargo boats, now bob small ferries and yachts. The cobbles from yesteryear either replaced, or pressure-washed of all history, face the water. And the tall and impressive warehouse buildings now gentrified, painted neatly with glass fronted bars and restaurants. 

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Old Man of Storr

It seems to be that out on Skye, the weather is best in the mornings. And as much as we wanted to stay in this beautiful cabin to watch the sun rise over the mountains (we have already wondered about coming back here in summer on the motorbikes) it was time to go. So last night, after failing to get some car light trail photos, we packed up the majority of our stuff so we could be up and out early. 

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Weather Windows

Today the wind sang thru the trees surrounding the cabin, whistling around the sharp modern corners and bumping into the panes of glass. The trees shook their limbs angrily at the clouds spraying them relentlessly with tiny shards of ice and freezing water. 

Watching the frantic weather from within the cabin, we sat and stared out the huge windows. Only visible from the distorting dribbles of rain coursing down the surface, the glass separated us from the cold and wet. Yet, allowed us to be surrounded. I think the enjoyment of watching such a show comes from a mix of awe and smug defiance.

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