An account of my travels through the Celtic countries on the fringe of Western Europe in 2002.
Saturday, 10 August 2002
Onboard ferry bound for Isle of Canna
It was a perfectly clear night last night – I stuck my head out of the tent and watched the dancing of the Northern Lights: green again, in the northern sky, low over Sleat, dancing up in long sheets to the great plough above.
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