hebrides

Last weekend, we spent three nights moseying about the Hebrides - from Skye, to Harris, to Uist, then back to Skye.

Matthew waiting for the ferry, slightly bleary eyed after a rough night camped on Skye with strong and gusty winds in an incessantly flapping tent.

On the ferry to Harris

View of Tarbert, where the ferry dropped us on Harris

Fake smile, feeling sorry for myself approx five minutes into the day's ride after battling a relentless headwind up a steep hill.

On Harris's narrow main highway. Saw a sign warning "otters cross here "

Wee lambs who cheered us up while we struggled against the Southerly.

Things started to get better (and beautiful) on the west coast of Harris

More lambies

A 5000 year old, two-metre high Pictish stone, plus a very relaxed highland cow (and, says Matthew, a goose if you look closely). The stone used to form part of a ring of similar stones which were perhaps used for rituals and mysterious neolithic activities a la stone henge.

Amusingly-named "Toe Head" in the background, just before arriving in Leverburgh to get our next ferry to Berneray

On Berneray we headed straight from the ferry port to find a spot to camp. Number one priority: shelter from the wind!

We found a spot between the sea and the road - not very hidden, but well sheltered, and no one seems to mind a camper in Scotland (the Scots are wonderfully casual people!) (plus wild camping is legal here) (but not in the rest of the UK)

Our lovely new tent with giant vestibule - excellent for sitting idly, cooking, storing gear and hiding from bad weather

Sunday morning starts well with this cute pony and a short ride from Berneray to North Uist. But soon the wind gods are back with similar vengeance to Saturday, and this time coupled with heavy scenery-destroying mist and cheer-destroying drizzle.

Cute thatched house

Deserted mansion in the mist.

Some sort of tower, probably a billion years old - we were too tired, grouchy and wind-destroyed to be very impressed. It looks quite impressive and moody now!

This is a fairly typical view of Uist on Sunday - what you can't see is the roaring wind (direct headwind!) which we battled nearly all day. It was a tough day! But it wasn't a terribly bad day, we amused ourselves with exaggerated complaining and making up mournful/ridiculous Scottish folk songs about the wind ("O wind, I hate you, kill me now.." to be set to mono-tonal bagpipes droning in the background).

Things started to look up at the end of the day when we rounded the loop at the bottom of North Uist and finally a tailwind was ours! Suddenly we were zooming along and the roar of wind in our ears was gone at last. Then we came upon this ancient Cairn which was once a sort of communal tomb for whoever lived in this place 5000 years ago, which was fascinating to imagine - apparently the island was all covered in woodland back then.

Camera flash lighting up the tunnel into the Cairn. Terrifying! I was only just brave enough to creep up to the entrance, while Matthew was seriously considering exploring inside with his headlamp - but he was too lazy to go and get it from the bottom of the hill (we were quite weary by this stage).

On to find a camping spot, with usual challenge of getting out of the wind. We found a spot on the gloomy moors and used our last peanut of strength to put up camp before relaxing in the much loved vestibule. The next morning, we rode about five minutes to Loch Maddy ferry port, bought chocolate and yoghurt and cheese (dairy anyone?) and sat down to eat it and wait for the ferry.

The strong southerly wind was consistent over the three days apart from small reprieve on the second night. We had heard that a route taking you South to North on the Hebrides is preferred when traveling by bike because of the prevailing winds. We didn't heed the advice and although the trip was still great fun, the wind can be a real pain to fight against all day. We would definitely recommend looking into an areas prevailing winds before doing a longish ride and try to work with them if you can.

This is probably our last cycling adventure before we amble across the channel to Europe in three weeks time - eep!

On Skye, homeward bound after a relaxing cup of tea and meander in Portree.

third mini trip.

Spring finally arrived this week with warm days peaking around 15 degrees. Mid teen temperatures are not usually cause to celebrate but after a long chilly winter the sun felt wonderful. We packed up our gear and headed closer to home this time to start our cycle at Grantown on Spey. We planned on taking the Spey river cycle route and b- roads to Tomintoul and to return to Grantown the next day. This area borders the rugged Cairngorm mountains and the gentler pastures of the east coast.



The River Spey was wonderful to ride near. The path followed old train routes and often used the disused rail bridges. It's the source for most of Scotland's Whisky with all sizes of distillery's doted along its length. Its the peat darkening the water that gives the different whiskys their distinct taste. AS we rode we could smell the rich smokey flavor of the brewing getting stronger as we neared a distillery. It was quite strange to have such a distinctive and pleasant smell dominating large areas of country side and forest.

The snow still hid in the shade and clung to mountains but by the many busy streams trickling down the hills it showed it was finally clearing.

Our orienteering skills need seem help. We made a few wrong turns and had to back track. Our worst mistake came late in the day as we took a turned off on a b road based on a sign pointing to a village that we knew we needed to pass to get to Tomintoul. The road got rougher and rougher until after 10 miles or so it ended down a long muddy hill at a farm house.

The owner of the farm informed us the road we thought we were on was only about 500m away but on the other side of the river without any bridges except back the way we had came. The town indicated on the sign we had followed was marked correctly we were told, its just that there were two towns with that name one on each side of the river!
The farmer must have taken pity on us because he offered to ferry us over a fjord in the river with his tractor. We couldn't have been more grateful. It must have saved us about two hours by the time we had back tracked.
We had actually considered wading the river when they first mentioned the fjord but seeing the speed of the water from the melted snow ther was no way we would have tried it without the tractor. Thank you again kindly highland farmer!

We arrived in Tomintoul around seven and found this spot on the outskirts of town near a stream. It felt like a long ride ( I think we rode around 70km) because of the hills and after some cider from the local pub we slept soundly.

The next day we explored Tomintoul a bit had a milk shake and headed back to Granton on spey. The return journey although crossing steeper hills was much shorter and we were back for a lunch of soggy chips in Granton.

All in all our gear is holding up well for our planned European trip.

second mini trip - the northern highlands

On Friday morning we embarked on mini cycle trip number 2, this time heading north to the Northern Highlands. We spent a couple of days driving around this part of Scotland last summer and were excited to go back. It's amazing up there, so dramatic and expansive. In some parts the hills are barren and endless, dotted with bright blue lakes which add to the overall impression that you are on an exotic Star Trek planet.

We passed lots of deer and Matthew took some video footage of them running over the hills. Meanwhile I took some snaps and here is one of two majestic stags who obligingly went to the top of the hill for some perfect silhouette shots. Earlier we had been urging them to go to the top of the hill, Matthew yelling "don't you know anything about composition!! I'm working with amateurs!" and then "that's it! now pout!" and finally "cheque's in the mail!" and "don't call us, we'll call you!" as we obnoxiously hopped on our bikes and wobbled away from these far more impressive and sensible animals.

We found a beautiful camp spot by the sea near Portvasgo.

Despite being pooped, neither of us slept too well - hopefully we will toughen up after a few weeks on the road (and warmer nights will help too).

The next morning, the weather was still fine but by the time we had packed up it was beginning to drizzle. We hauled the bikes through farmland and onto a ridiculously steep road which we struggled up in the increasing drizzle - not a nice way to ease into the day! About 10 km later we reached Tongue and sought refuge in the wonderful, cosy Tongue Hotel - we are eternally grateful to the lovely lady there who welcomed us in our bedraggled state and proceeded to get the fire roaring and a big pot of tea for me and a giant delicious latte for Matthew. She also gave us some home made tablet to comfort us (tablet is a traditional Scottish sweet very like fudge).

Warm and dry again, we concluded that the constant rain was not going to ease any time soon so we sadly left the roaring fire and nice lady and returned to our damp saddles and steep hills. It wasn't so bad really and we managed to make reasonable time back to the car. Overall, we completed about 42 km on day 1, then 64 km on day 2. We both relished having a real bed to sleep in that night and slept like giant babies. I really hope we are not softies and that camping becomes easier once we settle into it (and perhaps when our camp spot is somewhere less damp and cold) (but I love you anyway Scotland).