Going from seeing pictures of the Isle of Lewis on Google Images, or trying to pin down the exact spot on maps, was surreal. By the time I'd gone, I'd researched wildlife, history, and culture to a place I'd never been. Setting foot on somewhere that felt familiar and recognisable from pictures on a screen, yet altogether alien and new. Following the coordinates from the research article by Bennett led us to this unremarkable spot beside a main road, where cars blistered past an otherwise peaceful scene. The ground was treacherous- soft, spongy from all the mosses and grass growing atop a watery layer. Every step felt like it could betray you and plunge you into the moor. Across the unstable ground, old peat lines overgrown and softened with age still held some semblance of form. Our phone cameras struggled to pick up the rich colours found here, even on a bitter February day.
Going has made me think a lot about how entrenched the environment is to the people living there. The museum was packed with history and culture, and I sought out anything that might connect to the Arnish Moor Man's story. The weather was much more volatile than anywhere else I'd been, and the museum made use of projection to show this rapidly changing (and yet static?) landscape.
