Looking ahead to the next few days the weather forecast was not encouraging. The wind was guaranteed, still coming from the south-east, but the rain was also going to be a given, heavy showers with brief interludes seemed to be the pattern, based on previous days. After a night in the relative comfort of a proper campsite we decided to book another, this time on Benbecula, the next island in the chain but this being only a relatively short drive we decided to detour on a round trip of North Uist, to experience as much of the island as it could give us. Which was how we ended up stopping to visit a woodland overlooking Loch Langais.
This woodland was planted some years ago as a community project and it is, uniquely, the only piece of woodland on the island. It clearly provides a home for a population of pixies, who have built little houses everywhere you look although on reflection some local schoolchildren might have had a hand in decorating the trees and the mossy ground beneath. The big story associated with this place is about an eight foot high bear called Hercules. Although brought up tame from his youth, some years ago he escaped from his handler and spent several weeks roaming the landscape around here, despite considerable efforts to capture him. He clearly had not been taught how to hunt because when he was finally recaptured he was very thin and desperately hungry. A large wooden commemorative statue stands in the woods today in memory of Hercules the bear.
We were also very impressed by the toadstool population which we could not resist taking pictures of as we walked around the woodland and as a special treat we watched a pair of eagles soaring above the trees whilst we stood gazing up at them from below. Most significantly for us was that once in the woodland we realised we had found a place that gave us complete shelter from the wind and that this had another unexpected benefit - it was quiet. Instead of having to shout at each other we found ourselves conversing normally again, for the first time in days.
At this point in our travels we made a decision to move on to Barra the next day, the last island in the chain. This would involve a short drive from Benbecula across a causeway, a drive down the length of South Uist, then across another causeway to Eriskay from where the ferry to Barra departs. Three different islands again but this time the wind had notched up to gale force and the rain was coming down sideways, continuously. The first causeway was relatively benign but on the crossing to Eriskay, a long straight section, there was spray breaking right across the road from the sea on one side. There was no alternative but to drive across this to get to the terminal despite the risk of our van being blown over but when we finally arrived at the terminal there was no ferry. All sailings were cancelled for the day due to the storm. The only campsite nearby was back on South Uist which meant a reverse crossing of the causeway. By this time the tide had gone down a little although we still got sprayed with salt water. Our adventure in the Outer Hebrides had become an exciting tussle with the first September gale. What better place to experience this than the windiest corner of Scotland.
The night that followed was noisy, rain hammering down on the roof in heavy bursts and the van was violently shaken about by the wind making sleeping difficult. Others in the campsite with taller vans (or giant motorhomes) might have feared for their safety, worrying about whether their home would be blown over, but at least this didn't concern us too much. We had tried to book another ferry for the next day but due to everybody's travel arrangements being disrupted only the evening sailing had room for us. We therefore arose slowly from our beds in the morning, packed up, visited the campsite cafe for a late breakfast coffee and cake then decided to move to the ferry terminal on the off chance that an earlier sailing might have a space. The wind had abated, rain showers still came in but the sea looked calmer and it was clear that the ferries were running to schedule once again.
We joined a queue and were told there was little chance of us getting on the midday sailing but once the ship had loaded, somehow there was a tiny space just big enough for us to fit in, crammed in tight behind a couple of big lorries. [In this picture our van looks like it's a toy.] Remarkably the sea was quite smooth, most of the big swell from the overnight storm had died down as we crossed the Sound of Barra at last.
We even had time to explore a little before driving to the north end of the island to a campsite close by yet another glorious beach. Just around the corner from us (to the right in this picture) is the airport, planes landing on the beach when it is not covered by the sea. On another walk from the campsite along the beach, this time avoiding the rain, we met a couple drawing artistic creations in the sand with a small grass rake and using sea-worn pebbles and other debris to decorate their works; temporary structures, since the next tide will inevitably wash it all away.
Out of all the Hebridean islands the one that appeals most to us is in fact Barra. If we were being honest then the reason for this is that it feels most like where we now live in Argyll. There are hills stretched right across the island, some of which are forested, and people live in houses which are closer together, in small communities, instead of being scattered widely across the landscape. Popping round to a neighbour's house for a cup of tea on Lewis could be a significant hike, especially when the wind is blowing hard. Neighbours on Barra don't have this problem. It also has a road which encircles the whole island, something we were hoping to do as a bike ride were the weather a bit kinder. We are delighted to have travelled the whole Hebridean island chain but thrilled to have arrived on Barra at last, as if this is where we always wanted to be.
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