The next day I drove the road to Rhenigidale and parked at the trail-head west of the village. The path contoured down around a headland to give me this great view of the beach at Trollamarig and above it the switchbacks I'd descended (and ascended) the day before.
It was a much shorter hike than the day before. I soon found myself once again at Trollamarig Beach; the sky a bit grayer than the day before.
I enjoyed a beer on the beach to celebrate having 'closed' the loop from the previous day's effort, and then started back up the path to return to Rhenigidale.
As I hiked back to the car the gray sky darkened further, the wind picked up, and a light drizzle started. Reaching the car I opened the rear door on the passenger side and sat down to change out of my hiking boots. I had just put my street shoes on when a blast of wind slammed the open car door on my legs. So I got up and walked around to the driver's side to finish changing out of my sweaty hiking shirt. I was so tired and hungry that once I had a fresh shirt on I drove off.
A day later I was on the mainland, 150 miles from Rhenigidale. I wanted to go for a hike up Beinn Dubh, which rises high above the village of Luss on the western shore of Loch Lomond. My boots were nowhere to be found. It was then I realized I'd driven off and left them at the roadside above Rhenigidale.
So here I am today, bootless in Seattle. But good things happen to those who blog. My July 8 post on Ardveg was of interest to someone who lives in Rhenigidale. So thinking the odds were against it, I asked if any boots had turned up. A couple of days later the answer came back. Yes. And so on my visit to Harris and Lewis next week I will be going to Rhenigidale to fetch those wayward boots. I hope they were rescued before any sheep had a chance to gnaw on them.
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