4th August - Berneray

Waking up on Berneray with everyone else shooting for the early ferry to Harris saw a mad rush of cyclists on the roads, me, James, and 2 others, busy day!

While South Uist to Berneray was to be the longest day, this was to be the toughest, the original aim was to get to Stornoway or a campsite past Calanais, however we learnt through other cyclists that a youth centre just before the Harris-Lewis border had no residents and would be open to the public.

The ferry meandered it's way through the sound of Harris, and dropped us off at Leverburgh, gone now were the relatively flat lands of the southern isles, the first "mountain" range over to Tarbert loomed, we passed the Harris golf course with its signs proclaiming that "No golf to be played on Sunday", the first signs of strict Calvinism.  The road climbed and dropped, climbed and dropped and then not long after passing Taransay we climbed into the centre of south Harris.

James dropped behind as I got into a climbing rhythm, up and up, and up some more, some proper roadies were out descending to Leverburgh as I approached the summit, "Not far to go to the summit" one called as he kept control of his speed so he could say so, "Ha I'm heading for Stornoway" I replied, "Oh well, you've got a fair bit of climbing yet" he called as he passed. Indeed we do, but first the climbing was to be rewarded with a fast descent into Tarbert, I think I was 5 or more minutes head of James by the time I pulled up at the tourist information centre. Bikes parked and covered from the drizzle we went to find lunch, the hotel at the ferry terminal had the best looking menu, which I duly consumed: Cullen Skink with Soda Bread to start, a Steak Chiabatta with fries in the middle and jsut to weigh me down the Sticky Toffee Pudding to finish.
I think James may have had a salad.

A quick shop stop before setting off added some biscuits to the food loading and a bottle of beer to my bag weight, and off we set up An Clisham, just short of 200m of climbing in 4km, I remember on my first visit going up this hill on an old half cab bus, single track road, it's all changed now, wide single carriageway, and modern buses, and probably shallower gradients but it is still a tough climb, on the steepest section I made a mistake, I looked back to see how far ahead I was of James, there he was in the distance walking, walking a section his GPS told us was in excess of 18%, I got off and walked to the junction.  At the summit I stopped and waited, and watched the slowly approaching vision of Orange P7 towing a bright yellow trailer crawling slowly up the hill, being passed by various vehicles including the mobile library.

Eventually he pulled into the layby created out of the old road, knackered, as knackered as I was when I had stopped, we rested for a while and then set off.  I dropped him again as the road plunged down into the abyss beside Loch Seaforth, the loch is where Harris and Lewis meet, they aren't really separate islands as there is no channel between them, I got to the Ardvourlie centre after an exhillirating descent, one that was worth the toil up An Clisham, one I'd rather do going north than south as I think it's the steeper side.  Again I waited for James, as I waited the other cyclists who had told us about the centre appeared from inside, they had been there a while and the warden had gone back to Stornoway so we had to wait for a dorm to be opened for us.

As everyone else sat and watched Dr Who I went for a wander to see the area, peaceful quiet, right time for that beer... "No alcohol allowed to be consumed on the premises", oh well it was destined to stay in the bag until I got home.

GPS Tracks:

Berneray Hostel to Ferry:
http://ridewithgps.com/trips/347791

Sound of Harris Ferry
http://ridewithgps.com/trips/347338

Leverburgh to Tarbert
http://ridewithgps.com/trips/347806

Tarbert to Ardvourlie
http://ridewithgps.com/trips/347807


Photos:

3rd August - Howmore

In the morning the usual routine is carried out, breakfast is eaten, bikes are loaded, we set off.
At some point in the day James goes digging for his waterproof jacket and discovers he has left it behind. Doh!

Our target for the day was the Gaitliff hostel on Berneray, a not too distant 85km away,
but this was by far our longest day in the saddle.  Thankfully the south islands are flatish, and we made good time, but we didn't stop to see much, just a battle site and a ruined castle being made safe for wanderers.

We stopped at a nature reserve for lunch, unfortunately this turned into a puncture repair stop too as the fairy visited me.  The last wee kick over to Berneray from North Uist was tough though after that distance, and a shop raid was inevitable, I hadn't realised this was where the postcard "Forecasting stone" was sited.

The Gaitliff Hostel on Berneray is amazing, the buildings sit on the waterline, and if you sit long enough you see the extent of the tidal range that means the ferry to Haris has to be jet propelled and you can also watch it pick its route through the shallow channel.

Next to the hostel are some abandoned houses, of course the hostel was probably once also an abandoned house, I explored, everything was still in place from carpet to furniture and wood paneling on the wall, I couldn't take a guess when the house was abandoned, everything was just there decaying into the past.

I don't know why there is so little of note to mention here, maybe in memory one ocean view after another has merged into one, maybe the length of day also had an impact, we did take the direct routes.

GPS Plots:
Howmore to Berneray
http://ridewithgps.com/trips/347804

2nd August - Vatersay

The Yacht

In the small tents there is little you can do, I had used my tent on Islay earlier in the year, James however had bought his a few days previously.  I knew that in my 2 man tent I could get me and my bags, and nothing else.  James could fit himself and nothing else.

I was aware of James being up and about early, but I'm not a morning person, I hauled myself out of my sleeping bag late on, the weather was nice and looked ok.  The Yacht still bobbed in the bay, no doubt its crew eating breakfast and getting ready to set off for another haven.

We packed up the tents onto our bikes and set off for the Eriskay ferry, the time required wasn't too strenuous, and I had spotted some items and a memorial beside the road the previous night, this turned out to be the remains of a Catalina flying boat, one of many WWII aircraft to have come a cropper on the Western Islands.

 

Monday 1st August - Wormit

I awoke early, well early for me when I'm on holiday, a lengthy journey approached.

The 99 was ready, the Sardar was on the rack, my bags were in the car, all I had to do was get up and drive to Arbroath.

Yes Arbroath, Aberbrothick, Smokiesville, 40 minutes up the road, a town Johnston rather liked after the his declaration of Dundee of being nothing much of note.  Of course this isn't really where I was going, if it was I would have cycled there and back.

My touring buddie was waiting at the Signal tower museum for me, James had taken a different approach to touring from me, I was in the Racks and Panniers camp, he was in the Trailer camp.  Yet we both had far too much stuff.


I rather like the drive to Oban and I rather like driving the 99, it's heavy steering, soft suspension, and excellent carrying capacity makes it perfect for this sort of trip, something its un-predicatable battery isn't suitable for since it was going to spend a week tucked away in a car park in Oban.

The drive was less eventful than my previous trip, which had involved the suspension turret of a SAAB 96 failing and returning home courtesy of my RAC card (something of a compulsory possession if you drive old cars).

So Oban had arrived, a parking spot found, and the ferry terminal visited, a hopscotch purchased.
Clansman sat at her berth, waiting for the journey.

My bike loaded and ready

The Bikes at Oban

A journey of 5 hours, to the to the Western edge of Europe, to the Western Isles of Scotland, to the lands of McNeil, Barra.

Many other cyclists hang around the linkspan waiting instruction to board, we are waved on board, of note amongst fellow cycling passengers was a German family, Mutter, Vatter, Kind und Hund.  This set up was rather interesting, the man not only had his gear in panniers, but the childs gear too and in a trailer was the dog, taking a dog into the CTA is a fair bit of trouble as island nations the UK and Ireland + dependencies don't like the potential for Rabies to enter, so either you can get an animal passport and all that entails or have your pet in quarantine for 6 months just in case it has Rabies.  I guess the trouble must be worth it if you're also willing to carry the weight of your dog in a trailer for many hundred Km.

The crossing was smooth, and at one point a basking shark was spotted by the bridge and announced on the tannoy, I missed it...

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Kishmul's Castle

Kishmul's castle sits in Castlebay, a reflection glimmering on the calm waters, there's no need to rush, Clansman will not make her way onwards to Lochboisdale today, and being with cycles you are last off anyway.

Our first action on Barra was to get off the island, the road to Vatersay is a steep twisty single track road, these take a wee while to get used to of course, and you can tell a local from a tourist.

A tourist crawls, pulls into every passing place and lets people past.  A local times every arrival at a passing place so they don't lose any speed at all, something I was soon to get the hang of on the bike.

The hill up is steep and so too is the hill down, it is signed rather oddly at 11.1% and care must be taken not to hit the cattle grids on corners too fast, but the Vatersay causeway was soon reached.

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James was soon to regret going for the 1 man option

Light was by now starting to die, being August in Scotland that makes it pretty late at night, Clansman had berthed at half 8 so it must have been going on 10 when we crossed the narrow spit of sand that takes you to the village, this is the most southerly inhabited island now and the road simply stops at some houses, we were however at our starting point.  As we had crossed the narrow spit of sand between the Atlantic Ocean and Sea of the Hebrides we had scoped out spots to land the tents, camping is allowed on the Machair and the community centre has publicly available facilities, some areas are set out for campervans so they don't simply drive in.

We picked our camping spots as the light died, to the West the Atlantic waves roared to the first land since Nova Scotia, to the East a yacht bobbed in the gentle waters of an inland sea.


GPS Plots:
Oban to CAstlebay - From leaving the Sound of Mull
http://ridewithgps.com/trips/347336

Castlebay to Vatersay:
http://ridewithgps.com/trips/347796

MV Eigg underway for Oban from Lismore

Kerrera Monument

MV Isle of Mull not long off Craignure, Mull for Oban

Lord of the Isles in the Sound of Mull
also heading for Oban from Coll/Tiree

Lighthouse

MV Clansman alongside in Castlebay

Memorial to passengers and crew of a wrecked emigration ship