Today we moved out of our lovely, Black House. The people there were so pleasant to us. They wished us well and we set off in search of a Harris tweed hat for George.
First we visited a tweed mill where they took the raw wool, dyed it, and turned it into yarn. This yarn was then sent off to the local weavers where it was woven into single and double widths of tweed cloth. It then came back to them to be checked for flaws, washed and dried. Then it was sold in bolts all over the world. No hats for George.
Then we went to a local weaver, who showed us how he wove single widths of beautiful cloth. Von got some lovely fabric, but no hats for George.
On his advise we went a bit farther up the road to the Rare Birds shop and here Sheelagh got a head band and John and Von got cards. Still no hat for George. He’s beginning to lose hope.
Lunch followed at a lonely restaurant in the country. Really good.
Then we set off for Tarbert to see where we would be catching the ferry on Wednesday. To get there we travelled through a range of high hills that separate Lewis from Harris. There were spectacular views. We did some shopping in Tarbert and guess what? We found a hat for George. He looks very cool.
The final stretch took along a narrow winding road past beautiful golden beaches to Leverburgh and our hostel digs.
No comments:
Post a Comment