Outer Hebrides! Part 1: Bristol to South Uist

It feels odd to write about something that happened a year ago now (May 2011), but I want to make sure we get everything in. This was our first taste of proper island bagging, made significantly easier by the fact that so many of them have roads between them! It was a pretty full on week of adventure, with about 1500 miles of travel to, from between and across all the islands. 

Day 1 - Bristol to Oban

Long drive up boring English motorways, negotiated Glasgow, then on up through beautiful Scottish countryside. Alongside Loch Lomond then West at Crianlarich and out to Oban. Checked in at the hostel and time for a few beers in the bar with a crowd of highly excitable tourists and locals alike. Not too late a night, busy day tomorrow. 

Day 2 - Oban to Lochboisdale

Up and out of the hostel in good time, with a few hours to mooch around in Oban before the ferry left, though an early stop off at the terminal to make sure everything was in order gave us a few jitters, apparently the ferry had been cancelled the day before due to rough seas. Would it go today? better check back in a couple of hours! That would have been a major spanner in the works... So we took the chance to take in the view at McCaig's Tower, in a sudden torrential rainstorm, things weren't looking good. 

After taking shelter in an accommodating local hostelry, a spot of lunch and a couple of games of pool later, the rain had abated and we breathed a sigh of relief when the men in yellow hi-vis jackets started letting the cars on the boat. We were going to get there!

After about six and a half hours at sea, with dolphins behind the boat, a blurry view at Balamory through the mist, and a brief stop at Barra (and how I regret not asking if we could just hop off for a minute while they unloaded...another day!), we finally disembarked at Lochboisdale.

I'd like to say it was getting dark when we arrived, it definitely should have been, but what with it being close to the middle of the year and this far north, dark doesn't seem to be something that really happens. So in the twilight we drove to North Glendale to find our first host, and seemingly friend to everyone in Uist, Paul McCullum. We'd booked ahead and he was ready to welcome us, and after a long day travelling we really welcomed his comfortable if spartan bunkhouse/shed arrangement and got our heads down pretty easily. 

Day 3 - South Uist and Eriskay

Next morning greeted us with lovely blue skies and the opportunity to do our first bit of exploring of the South Uist countryside. It's barren and sparse, and people don't seem to like to throw stuff away. I guess with the difficulties in getting building materials over from Lewis or the mainland, when one building is worn out it's better to keep the bits to put towards making a new one. So Paul gave us some pretty unconventional directions for a ramble off-piste, turn left at the plank, head towards the rusty tractor, that sort of thing, and we set off to get hopelessly lost. 

Eventually we found our way again and made it back to Paul's, thanked him for his genuine hospitality so far from civilisation, and set off around the coast to Eriskay. This was the most beautiful and idyllic of all the islands we visited, there was a calmness in the atmosphere and a relaxed approach by all, but maybe that has something to do with it being the best day weather-wise of the whole trip

After a wander on the beach and a longing look over to Lingay, Fiaray and Fuday (we were still junior baggers, and hadn't come equipped to get to such far flung outposts), we spent a good twenty minutes in the car trying to find the famous Am Politician pub. Not an easy task when you're on an island with only about four roads, but then we weren't anticipating they'd designed it to look like an old people's home. Still, they managed to serve us a most refreshing beverage, we read the stories of the famous events of the pub's namesake ship, and then after a few more games of pool and a stock up of flapjacks and milkshake in the shop next door, we set off back over the causeway to Uist, and kept going up the coast road to Howmore.

We spent the rest of the afternoon visiting the birthplace of Flora Macdonald (or "pile of stones in field") and the nearby museum and went for a walk on the beautiful beach at Howmore, perhaps one of the most picturesque locations of the whole week. Right next to the beach is what was definitely the most picturesque accommodation of the week, Howmore Hostel, and our first (but not last) experience of the Gatliff Trust, who have some excellent buildings (and staff) scattered across the islands, we stayed in all of them over the course of the week. 

Here we met with several groups of cyclists who became an almost constant fixture as we travelled further North. Did we feel a bit guilty that every mile we went in the car they were gaining only under their own steam? Probably. Did the fact that it meant we could beat them to the next hostel and bag the best beds before they got there make it OK? Definitely! Unfortunately we didn't learn that lesson straight away, but more on that later. So we managed a very civilised few beers and a game of scrabble after dinner, and called it a night.