Monday: Loch an Eilean

Shadows cast by the setting sun crept all along the hillsides, turning green into orange and finally black. The water rippled silently; there was the noise of small stones crunching underfoot and the pull of oars from the ruined castle, partly hidden by the fading light and overhanging pine cones. A small tent stood alone in a field by the empty car park. A woman sat like a statue by the water's edge, gazing out at nothing.