Gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson entitled his coverage of the 1972 US Presidential election as "Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail".

During a Saturday afternoon spent on Stuart Hayward's independent campaign trail in Pembroke West Central last weekend, a few fears but no loathing whatsoever was in evidence. The voters Mr. Hayward canvassed almost all expressed distrust and dislike of the politicians in the two main parties, but nothing stronger.

Indeed, the strongest emotions were reserved for what are routinely described as the issues: crime, the youth, and the economy.

Pembroke West Central has 1,049 registered voters. Excluding the dead, those who will be away on election day and the infirm now resident elsewhere, Mr. Hayward reckons the true total of voters at about 1,000. On that basis, Bermuda may be said to be practicing one of the purest forms of democracy on the face of the planet.

If this were Britain, all Bermudians together would vote for one of 650 MPs. Bermudians will have 36 by the time this campaign ends. The democratic effect, of course, is somewhat lessened by the "winner take all" Westminster part of the electoral process, in which a party may form the government with fewer than half the votes cast.

Mr. Hayward's decision to run independently denies him a huge team of administrative supporters. This is politics stripped to the bone. One man, one set of opinions.

The walls of his campaign headquarters on Mount Hill are lined with press cuttings, but a giant map of the constituency dominates. Every house is clearly visible on the map, about the size of a Monopoly hotel, but rather costlier.

Those, largely on the eastern and western edges of the constituency, which had been coloured green by Saturday had been visited during the campaign.

It is Mr. Hayward's intention to visit every house in the constituency. Bermuda elections, as the Progressive Labour Party proved so dramatically in 1998, are won on the doorstep. Constituency number 18 - can anyone explain why these numbers suddenly matter? - ought to be considered a PLP stronghold, but if the small sample of voters Mr. Hayward met on Saturday is anything to go by, there is genuine disappointment with that party's performance, underpinned by the newly-found conviction that all party politicians are the same: not much good.

Mr. Hayward and supporter Frances Eddy set off from Mount Hill at about 5.30 p.m. on a bike, Ms Eddy sitting side-saddle. In the fierce heat, Mr. Hayward wore a shirt and tie and a nylon backpack that had been designed as a more condensed, midriff-based affair. Ms Eddy carried green index cards, one per voter, assembled in the order in which the campaign was expected to reach them that afternoon.

In the first two hours - they would continue until it was too dark to see - Mr. Hayward made 14 calls. Most found someone at home. Mr. Hayward confirmed the name of each voter, which Ms Eddy compared with her cards and updated as necessary. Then came the business of the voter and Mr. Hayward fitting each other into the order of things: one or two degrees of separation, in just about every case. All the voters knew Mr. Hayward, most of them personally.

The candidate then delivered his opening gambit, a variation on: "the two main parties just seem to bang heads all the time." Everyone agreed with that. "In some countries, independents hold the big parties accountable and I would like to do that here," he said.

The candidate then ran briefly through the three main planks of his campaign: the environment, which he used in an extended sense to denote the fabric of society; young people and his proposal for a Regiment-style programme mandatory for every Bermudian in their teen years; and integrity, as evidenced by the 11-point programme to which he hopes to have all politicians adjure and adhere.

A couple of people turned him away, but only then after the introductions had been completed. "I'm UBP," one said, so Mr. Hayward gave her a book about 50 ways to improve Bermuda (everyone received one until they ran out), said "thank you" and moved on.

In the two hours, ten people stopped doing something else to meet and listen to their candidate. On that basis, the campaign will need 200 hours in the field. Each voter listened intently to what Mr. Hayward had to say. He then asked them what their concerns were and most told him.

A young mother of three mentioned her fears over the well-being of young people, and expressed the view that the parents need training too. Her well-behaved and engaging young son, in an England football shirt with his first name on the back, distracted himself from the whole palaver with a few quiet notes on a plastic harmonica.

A proud homeowner took time out from mowing his lawn to discuss crime and the need for greater attention to be paid to victims. The judicial system, he felt, needs repair.

A woman who described herself as "half-naked", but who was not even remotely so, invited the campaign in and, ten minutes later, Mr. Hayward had her vote, it seemed.

The constituency was in motion throughout. Bikes and cars came and went, Mr. Hayward extracting information from passersby who live in other numbers, Ms Eddy working tirelessly with the cards. Traversing the constituency did not go as planned, and soon enough she had to wrestle with the cards at every stop to find the right ones. The campaign once or twice cut through people's back gardens to save long detours. At one point, it walked past someone's swimming pool. At another, Mr. Hayward was told: "You'll see my husband shaving in the bathroom. Turn right there and go up the redwood steps." In such fashion the campaign weaved its way up, around and about.

Campaigning in hilly Pembroke West Central, as in so many other constituencies, is not a job for the faint of heart, or for the frail.

Looking down from the top of Cox's Hill towards the ocean to the north, the houses are more tightly clustered the farther down the hill they stand. Parked outside very many of them were shiny, well-maintained late model cars. The general state of repair of the mostly rented houses was less impressive. Many a front door was ajar in the heat, but the car windows were all shut tight.

The two main parties had so far reached about a third of the people Mr. Hayward met. It would be wrong to read too much into that statistic. Many of those he spoke to are working two jobs, so they are not at home much and, besides, this is July and rather hot. PLP or UBP, it will not be for want of trying. The campaign trail goes ever on, and Mr. Hayward and the 74 other candidates in the 2003 general election.

Is Mr. Hayward going to win? Who can say, other than the voters in less than two weeks' time?