The Outer Hebrides at last

It was cold last night - very cold.  I found myself in a dilemma: should I get out of my very lightweight sleeping bag to get more clothes from my panniers?  In the end, my sleeping mat decided it by deflating itself, so I had to anyway.

Early to rise at 6am wasn't much of a sacrifice, and I was on the road by 7, hurrying north, into the wind again, to catch the 9.30 ferry from Uig.  As I struggled up one hill, I met a stoat coming the other way, carrying a hot breakfast.

The ferry cost £6.10, very reasonable for a 90 minute crossing.  I paid as much again for a two course breakfast. The sun was shining. All was good.

We docked at Lochmaddy on North Uist, a small place of maybe 40 houses, unloading a few lorries, motorhomes, motor bikes, and perhaps a dozen cars - not busy at all.

The outer Hebrides are a chain of islands: Lewis/Harris conjoined in the north, then North and South Uist below, plus many smaller islands. My cunning plan is to cycle to the far south, and then north, taking advantage of the prevailing wind.  Yeah, right.

Well it's working so far.  As I headed south over smooth, gently undulating tarmav, my legs were caressed by gentle zephyrs of a following wind.  The landscape is mainly peat bog, sprinkled with lochans snd giving way to acres of white sand and light blue water at the coast, which is never far away.

Leaving north Uist, I did a brief circuit of tiny, deserted Grimsay before crossing Benbecula.   There was a café on south Uist but it is Sunday. I couldn't risk it, so I'm in the Dark Isles hotel in Liniclate, which sounds like an Italian airport to me.

A flying visit to Skye

The ride to the Kyle of Lochalsh was great.  Over to Lochcarron and then, leaving the Gairloch coastal route, to Strathcarron which is on the railway line from Inverness to Kyle. It felt like a new stage of the journey.   Along the loch side, following the railway: should have been a doddle but some serious hills had been put in by someone.

I took a detour to Plockton, a south facing village said to have a Mediterranean climate.  Not today.   There was a cold north wind, which had helped me down the loch, but despite its charm I didn't want to linger too long.

Although I tried not to have a timetable this year, the ferries still have one, and I had a choice of tomorrow (Sunday) at 9.30 or Monday at 14.30, which would leave me with NO ferry options in a couple of days' time.  Uig was still a way away but I decided to aim for Portree.  A popular tourist destination,  on a Saturday.   Nothing was available,  so I'm camping ... just like in Southwold two years ago, only in a proper campsite with showers.

The journey here wasn't fun: on the busy A87 with a strong headwind most of the way, the kind where you keep your head down and don't look at the view, but I should be ok to get the ferry tomorrow.   And there was a fabulous light at sunset.

I love Skye but this hasn't been a stopping trip...that will have to be next year.

11/10

Well, I did it!

In the hostel this morning I met a chap about my age who was 'doing an Everest': climbing the pass repeatedly to total the height of Everest, that's twelve times.  There are some crazy people around.

As I set out there was cloud on the hills.  The actual climb wasn't too bad at first, a bit like Box hill but longer.  It got steeper after 400m but not too bad in granny gears.  Mr. Everest passed me in his car on the way up, having finished his challenge.
The top was out of the cloud but cloud limited the views.  A few wild deer were on the moorland only a few hundred metres away.

The descent was super dramatic, in a good way.  Steep hairpins led down gorge-like valley.  My descent was almost as slow as the ascent until lower down, when I coasted the last few miles to the conveniently located Bealach Cafe.

Hebrides vista

I'm not sure if this will work:

To Applecross, part two

After Sheldaig, someone had let a horde of chevrons loose on the road. A roller-coaster ride, made worthwhile by stunning views over Sheldaig, the loch and mountains behind.  The sun came out and all was well with the world.

After a very long way, the road smoothed out and started going with the contours, rolling over moorland overlooking the sea.  Cresting a hill, and the Hebrides were laid out before me: Raasay and Rona in front, Skye behind, and in the distance Harris & Lewis and a bit of North Uist.  Superb.  A last hill,  and a 40mph(!!) descent took me almost to Applecross.   The YH took some finding and was down a mile of track, so potholed it might count as an off-road attraction. 

Then a two mile walk to the 'local' pub to eat chef's special fish pie and contemplate tomorrow's ride, over Bealach Na Ba (pass of the cows).  Britain's highest road.  In the book Top 100 British Cycling Climbs, it's rated as eleven out of ten.   See the photo, which may have been taken a while ago.

Scenery en route to Gairloch

More photos from yesterday afternoon.

Gairloch to Applecross, part one

Flaming June has not arrived up here.  There are still banks of bluebells and primroses everywhere, and it's cold! Temperatures of 10-13 degrees are forecast for today, but less wind.  In the YH there were a couple of fly collectors poring over microscopes, sorting what they had caught in various places and mounting the more interesting ones.  Clearly a labour of love.  Today they were off to Skye in search of a possible new species which had been spotted there.

Leaving town the road followed a river valley, normally a good omen, but I shortly passed a hydro-electric power station: not so promising.   The road wound up past rocky cliffs to a glassy loch at the top.  Then fairly easy cycling past more lochs, surrounded by mountains, to Kinlochewe, which felt like a frontier village at a junction. After a quick coffee I set off up another river valley, the right sort this time: a single track road with passing places, gently up for five miles, then gently down between glowering hills.

Into Torridon, head of the loch of the same name, and the object of yesterday's disappointments. There was an appealing general store and café.  I wasn't going to stop but it had lovely flapjack, so I had to.  I forgave Torridon.

I had booked a bed in Applecross so things were looking up.  A hilly ride along the loch bought me to Sheldaig, a real find: tiny fishing village by the sea (aren't they all?) with stunning views over the loch to the mountains on the other side.  And a hotel bar serving food.  The sun even came out a bit.