Outer Hebrides! Part 2: South Uist to Lewis

On with the story...

Day 4 - South Uist to Berneray

This was to be the day that we did some actual proper physical exertion. We wanted to get at least one mountain done whilst we were in Scotland, and looking at the timings for what else we wanted to do, Clisham, the highest point in the Outer Hebrides on Harris wasn't really going to be an option. In the end we plumped for Eaval, the highest mountain on North Uist, at 347m above sea level. Hardly Everest, but from the bottom it definitely looked big enough. 

So we set off from Howmore to drive across the causeways to Grimsay and then Benbecula, (past the school at Balavanich where the kids playground is literally right next to the beach, talk about jammy...) and finally to North Uist. 

The closest place we could park to Eaval was about an hour's hike away over pretty rough ground around the shore of Loch Obasaraigh, the deepest loch in the Hebrides. I managed to fall over almost straight away, but we got there in the end, and were only a little tired when we actually started climbing the hill. 

It only took another half an hour to get to the top, but the three of us were completely exhausted, and we'd even considered giving up when we were half way up, such was the steepness of the incline, it was more of a scramble than a stroll. The views, however, were amazing. South to South Uist, Eriskay and Barra beyond, East to the Shiant Islands and Skye over the Minch, and North to the rugged and foreboding Harris. Only to the West did the Atlantic stretch out uncluttered by more islands

The scramble down was much easier, and much much faster, and we got back to the car to finish the journey up to Berneray. We took the road around the West of the island, foolishly missing the opportunity to head to Lochmaddy where we'd heard there might be a pub of some sort, and over the causeway to Berneray. After a long day and lots of photos my camera was by this point dead, which was a shame as it was a fairly dramatic couple of hours.

We arrived at the beautifully located Berneray hostel just too late it turns out, as all the beds had been taken by the pesky cyclists who hadn't stopped to climb a mountain that day, lazy sods. Luckily we'd planned ahead and brought some extremely cheap, small and flimsy tents with us in case of exactly this sort of scenario arising. Unfortunately, not only were all the beds gone, but so were all of the camping spots with any decent shelter from the wind and increasingly ominous black clouds forming overhead as the evening began to draw in.

After wandering around and trying to work out the best place to put the tents up, we eventually decided on the beach, in the lee of some fairly sizeable sand dunes. The tents really weren't as big as we had hoped, and the prospect of me and Liam sharing one certainly didn't appeal. To make matters worse, the wind was getting up, and to make sure they wouldn't blow away we had to heap sand all round the edges, reducing the space inside yet further. We made as ham-fisted a job of it as we could, and made our way back to the hostel to use the kitchen to make some dinner.

Needless to say, almost immediately we got in through the door, the heavens opened and an almighty thunderstorm ripped in from the sea, even the five second dash to the car for bits left our faces stinging with rain. By the time we'd had something to eat and dried off a bit, the weather was showing no signs of abating, and we were left in a bit of a quandary, but in probably the moment that best encapsulated for me the sort of hospitality I'll remember the Hebrides for, the total strangers who had stolen our beds all clubbed together any spare bits of kit, and insisted that we set up camp on the kitchen floor rather than risking another voyage outside. We most humbly and gratefully accepted. I think we even gave them most of our cake. Well you would wouldn't you.

Day 5 - Berneray to Rhenigidale

Anyway, too much writing, not enough pictures. We got up the next morning, found the tents intact, immediately deposited them in the nearest waste receptacle, and after an almost disastrous bit of unintentional off-road exploring in the car, made our way to the ferry 'port' to get the boat to the bright lights of Leverburgh on Harris.

More islands that we didn't go to, possibly Pabbay, or Ensay. More regrets, or an excuse for a return visit?

This day actually turned out to be one of necessities and was in all fairness, a little mundane. Our first stop was our hostel for the evening, at Rhenigidale, supposedly at one point the most remote settlement in the UK, and it certainly felt that way. After the fairly easy distances on the Uists, the drive up through the Southern part of Harris along the Western coast, whilst dramatic at times, was largely shrouded in mist and seemed to take forever. Eventually however, we made it to the turning for Rhenigidale, and then it was only miles and miles of single track road winding down valleys and through narrow passes. But we made it to the hostel, and for once we were the first people there and got the choice of beds. The surroundings were much more rugged here, a real change from the open sandy expanses further south.

Now came the boring bits. We needed petrol, and that meant a drive either back down to Tarbert (the garage was closed when we drove up), or venturing further up into Lewis, spoiling tomorrow's virgin territory. We ended up doing both, and spending the whole day doing it. Tarbert for petrol, closed again, popped in probably the only metal pub in a hundred mile radius for a swift one, station open, overpriced unleaded, then the sudden realisation that we were going to need a meal at some point, and there was nowhere in sight to get one.

It won't matter, we said, we won't have to go all the way to Stornoway to find a decent shop, there's bound to be one on the way. There wasn't. A good hours drive to the Co-op on the edge of Stornoway, ruin the surprise, so we decided we'd do it properly and bought all the bits for some slap-up fajitas back at the hostel. With the weather still poor there wasn't much prospect of enjoyable exploring, so a couple of bottles of half decent wine seemed the only way to do Rhenigidale justice.

Day 6 - Rhenigidale to Stornoway

So up and out at a reasonable hour, and another drive up into Lewis, past Loch Seaforth and into Stornoway. It was something of a novelty to be in such a civilised and urbane environment, I believe we may have remarked with surprise "they've even got a boots!", but it was nice to be able to grab a snack without planning days ahead. We checked in at the hostel and then pretty quickly got back in the car to head out west, to the standing stones at Callanish (don't know what I did with the camera there) and the very top, the Butt of Lewis, but not before a stop first at Arnol Black House, to see how daily life would have looked in Lewis until surprisingly recently.

I have to admit my intermittent vertigo got the better of my at the Butt, trying to peer down into the abyss to see the seals basking in the cove below, but the whole landscape around the Butt and in the villages of Eoropie and Ness on the long straight road up was so peaceful and idyllic, it seemed a shame this was our last full day on the islands.

After that, back into Stornoway, for a late afternoon stroll around the conspicuously lush greenery of the castle grounds, a spot of dinner (bag of chips in the hostel garden), a tour of the local nightlife (couple of dodgy pubs, too tired for the nightclubs!) then an early night before the ferry in the morning.

Day 7 - Stornoway to Chesterfield (blimey, that's a long way isn't it?! Yes, yes it is)

As the early morning ferry left Stornoway Harbour for Ullapool with much sadness we departed the islands, and made good time over the Minch, passing as we came back to the mainland the numerous and tantalisingly close Summer Isles, but again that's another holiday to plan! A highly recommended slap up Scottish breakfast in a cafe along the main street, and then off on the 472 mile drive to stopover at my parent's near Chesterfield. We managed a couple of brief stops at places of note on the way down the highlands, Ben Nevis, Loch Ness, all the usual tourist stuff, but without water surrounding the place it didn't really feel as important. 

It had been all the epic journey we had hoped, we'd been to maybe only six or seven of the fifteen inhabited and countless uninhabited ones, but this was our first go, and we felt we'd done ourselves proud. Would we come back? Definitely, but not until we'd done a good deal other things first...