At dawn, I walk down again to the iron-age house at Bosta. A yellow moon is watching over the graveyard, touching the frosty monochrome rocks with a fragile hint of sepia. Lapping waves patter through the chill air.

Welcome to the pages of my Travel Journal. You’re reading the final chapter of my recent journey down Scotland’s Outer Hebrides in a 1968 Land Rover.

My objective today is to drive until the road runs out – beyond the site of buried Norse antiquities, the abandoned military outpost and the crumbled medieval nunnery… to the end of this raw, beautiful extremity of the United Kingdom.

If you missed them, here’s the Introduction, and here’s Part One: