High winds fling kelp plucked from the seabed on to the shore. In places successive gales have built up weedy deposits several feet deep. A tractor lurches and sways along the track. Held in the air above it, at the end of long jointed arms, is a wickedly spiked front-loader giving it the appearance of some monstrous horned beetle. Bouncing along behind is a wooden trailer.
With an expertise born of long practice, the driver descends to the beach, swings round in a tight half-circle and halts on the dry sand at the weed's edge, where he unhitches the trailer. Then, completing the circle, he heads into a channel carved through the deeper weed.
The jointed arms flex, the front-loader digs into the kelp and the tractor is urged forward. The rear wheels spin in the sand, digging furrows which immediately fill with milky water. The arms flex again and lift a giant bite of weed from the mass. Carefully the tractor is backed clear, swung around and, with great precision, the shiny weed is spilled into the trailer, where it steams gently in the cool air.
Load after load is deposited, each one receiving a weighty pat on the head to pack it down tightly. When it appears to the untutored eye that any movement of the trailer would cause the whole slippery cargo to overbalance, it is re-hitched to the tractor which, grumbling and snorting, makes its laborious way back up the slope from the beach. Heavily laden, the trailer no longer bounces but follows decorously.
A short way along the track is a dark mound of weed gathered several weeks ago. It exudes a sinus-clearing pong. Soon it will be ready to move again. Already the first brown areas are appearing on the machair where well-rotted weed has been spread not only to enrich the light sandy soil but also to help bind it in a way artificial fertilisers never could.
Source: http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/2011/feb/11/country-diary-south-uist
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