The Westernmost Isle

As you approach the eastern shore of the island the clamouring gale and lamenting rain dislodges you from the boat in a heedless manner as you make your way through fierce sea. Vexed and dismayed. Just in the nick of time you see the onset of morning. You seldom get to see such an astonishing isle. With all the strength you can muster you drag your boat up the bank.

Though there is a road connecting the small pieces of this island, you can always straggle off it.

For a while on stone ground covered with grime, then soft undergrowth, shouldering through olden cobwebs between the trunks of the beeches.

Through the whisking of thick boughs, you may occasionally spot a hind and a hart. You are filled with mirth.

The path is so steep you have to hold on with your hands. Once The mountain and the sun glinting in the blue water.
The sea is dashing against the lichen covered rocks and you are redoubled. An eagle circles slowly before hurtling down to an eyrie on a landing beneath your feet.

The warm air is fawning on you.