Outer Hebrides: Traigh Mhòr, Isle of Lewis

Of all the places I love in Scotland, and in the Outer Hebrides, it is this two-mile stretch of pristine beach at the far end of Lewis that I have held deep in my heart since I walked its sands 10 years ago. I can’t tell you why that is, I just know it is so.

There’s something about this place that speaks to me. It did that a decade ago, soothing a heart that was unsure of the future and anxious about decisions like retirement and what might come after. As I walked from one end of the beach and back, I let go of the worry and my overwhelming urge to make plans. I decided to let the future unfold however it would, day by day, month by month, year by year. And so it did. I bought a trailer, I quit my job, I started traveling full-time around the country.

I returned to Traig Mhòr this time with new questions, very aware that a sea change was already underway in my life. I walked on the cold sand, feet ankle-deep in the shallow water. Grey clouds scudded across the sky as rhythm of the waves reached deep inside me, as it had a decade ago. Slowly, slowly, the tension began to unwind.

For one solitary hour, the beach was all mine, as if the fates had conspired to give me the time I needed so badly. I could talk to the waves, ask questions of the wind, and let my tears fall into the salt water at my feet. I felt rather than thought about my life, words drifting away on that wind.

I’ve been a vagabond for eight years, constantly on the move, with no safe harbor except my little trailer. Twice, I’ve spent four months in one place (2020 pandemic and last winter in a beachfront condo), but otherwise, I’ve not spent more than 14 days in one place, and that only rarely. I have felt that pace wearing on me the last few years, and it has tempered the joy I used to feel about exploring the world around me. I’ve felt my resilience waning the last year or so, dealing with weather, mechanical issues, and a few health challenges. I’ve been pondering what lies beyond this vagabond life, and where and how that might look.

I walked on, letting the chilly water ground me while my head was in the clouds, trying to discern a path forward, a future I couldn’t quite see. Slowly, I realized—once again—that I can’t force things. I can only wait, and recognize the moments when I need to choose, to change direction to something else, whatever that might be. I felt myself relax into the present, letting go of all those future decisions. Just then, the sun broke through the clouds and suddenly the light was everywhere. Call it what you want, I took it as a sign that I’d once again found my answers from Traigh Mhòr.

Slowly, I walked back to the car park, savoring the moment. I’d gotten what I had come all this way for: a much-needed measure of clarity about my path in life. I was finally ready to leave the Outer Hebrides, catch a ferry the next morning back to the mainland and move forward into that unknown future. Wherever I go, I know Traigh Mhòr will always be in my heart.

There’s nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.

Nelson Mandela