He was waiting at the turning to Tolsta from Laxdale. Looking tanned and fit, big green bag on his back and a smile lurking. "Are you going to Tolsta?" he asked through the open window of my car. Of course I was; didn't he realise I was going home? Why else would I be going that way? Eh? For goodness sake!
He loaded his bag in the back and jumped in. From Jutland it seems - here to enjoy our fine weather - the same sort of weather he gets at home - cold, wind and rain. He camped on the machair and survived the night in his little tent.
I walked on Garry beach and took a snap - or two. Like I do. Here's one;