Day Seven: North Uist to Isle of Raasay

We part company with our roommates today as they head north to the Isle of Harris and we head east to the Isle of Skye. The ferry from Lochmaddy to Uig on Skye departs at 7am and the school group is less boisterous this morning as they prepare themselves for the crossing also. Before leaving the Outdoor Centre we post our fee for the overnight stay through a letter box in an office at the entrance as we have still not met anyone connected with the running of the establishment.
The cruise across The Minch between North Uist and the Isle of Skye takes 1hr 45mins in overcast conditions. As we approach the port we notice that the road takes a sharp incline on exiting Uig ensuring a lung busting start to our journey south through the island towards Sconser and our next ferry to the Isle of Raasay later in the day. The incline and the panniers prove to be a tough combination so we alight from our bikes and walk up the hill which affords us one final glance across to the islands we traversed the day before.

Once clear of the hill we enjoy a mostly flat or downhill 16 mile route into the islands capital of Portree. Deriving its name from the Gaelic Port-an-Righ, which translates as "King's Port" it dates back to a visit by King James V, plus a fleet of warships, in 1540, to persuade the island clans to support him. It had earlier been known as Kiltraglen. The centre of life in Portree has to be its harbour. This is in a superb natural setting, being surrounded by high ground and cliffs. The peninsula to the south is unflatteringly known as "The Lump", and once provided a spectacular setting for public hangings on the island. Today the harbour continues to be used by fishing boats, but is also home to other vessels, from pleasure craft to the lifeboat. After a quick visit to the local Bakers we sit by the harbour to reload our carbohydrates before attempting the 13 miles to the port of Sconser.

The long climb 4 miles south of Portree is rewarded with an exhilarating downhill run to Sligachan and its renowned Hotel. The name Sligachan is Gaelic for "shelly place", after the shells found at the original location. In about 1830 the Sligachan Inn was built at the current location at the head of Loch Sligachan and proved ideally placed when the gentleman climbers of the day discovered that this part of Scotland had mountains that in character (if not in height) could match the best available in the Alps. Most books about climbing in the latter half of the 1800s contain at least one photo of a group of tweed-clad and hobnail boot-shod men, stiffly posed in front of the Sligachan Inn. The hotel itself is home to a small museum remembering the exploits of these early climbers.

Aware that a ferry is due in at Sconser three miles along the road we bypass the tempting hospitality that the Inn has to offer and cycle to the mouth of Loch Sligachan and await the Isle of Raasay connection.

You know you are getting well off the beaten track in Scotland when you find yourself on an island that can only be reached from another island. The island of Raasay, some 14 miles long and a maximum of a little over 3 miles wide, lies off the east coast of the Isle of Skye. It may only be a fifteen minute ferry trip from Sconser, but is a world apart from its more famous neighbour. Whilst Skye is bare, sweeping and majestic, Raasay offers a more intimate landscape where pockets of woodland and hidden corners abound. The island is quiet, away from the main tourist routes, and its little capital Inverarish is a delightful haven. Whilst crossing on the ferry we are slightly dismayed when informed by a crew member that the Youth Hostel involves a three mile journey in which two of the miles are uphill.

His directions prove to be accurate as we struggle up a long forest hill road beyond the only sign of civilisation at the islands sole village of Inverarish. The reward that awaits us as we break free of the inhibiting forest growth is quite outstanding. The views over to The Red Cuillins to the south and the Trotternish Peninsular to the north are breathtaking and could not be bettered from any vantage point on Skye. It is within such splendour that we stumble across our tiny abode for the evening, the Isle of Raasay Youth Hostel.

Described as sleeping 30 in a rural location, it is no more that an old croft with a replica of a boy scouts hut placed on a slight hill behind it….can there be a more rural or inaccessible hostel in Britain? The isolation of its location inspires serenity and calm far from the rigours of daily life. The scout hall in which we have to bed down for the night inspires thoughts of having to stumble about in the dark whilst half asleep trying to locate the toilet in the nearby house. A small price to pay for such scenic splendour we venture;-)

Evening meal requires that we have to hurtle back down the hill to the only hotel on the Island, The Isle of Raasay Hotel. Passing through Inverarish we observe a public notice at the entrance to a children’s play park, which reads: ‘No Playing on a Sunday’….evidence of the strong Free Presbyterian doctrine which still prevails in many of these small island communities. The hotel provides us with attentive service and good fare as it begins to fill up with local’s intent on winning the Saturday night pub quiz.

A lingering cold that has been growing on Eric these last few days begins to make its debilitating effects more apparent as the evening progresses, with this in mind we decline our invite to the quiz and make our way back up the hill to our Hut for some Lemsip, Paracetamol and hopes of no overnight field trips to the toilet. We have a strict time schedule to adhere too and 33 miles to cycle on our final day, a bout of influenza at this stage in our journey has us wondering if we have bitten off more than we can chew.

Day Six: Barra to North Uist

The last three days of the journey are the ones that fill us with the greatest sense of apprehension. One hundred and six miles to be cycled before we finish with today’s trek the biggest challenge at 42 miles. Setting off from Castlebay at 7am we take the 1hr 40 min crossing north to Lochboisdale on South Uist. From here we cycle through three islands in a northerly direction, firstly South Uist, then across a stone causeway to Benbecula and then across another causeway to North Uist and onwards to our overnight stop in Lochmaddy at the top of the island.

Arriving in Lochboisdale we are tempted to climb aboard a small local bus to Lochmaddy as the driver sagely suggests that it will take us three days to travel through the islands by bike. Ignoring his playful banter we set off determined to prove him wrong, embarrassingly we head of in the wrong direction which brings further unbridled joy to his otherwise mundane life as he highlights the difference between north and south to the displaced townies.

South Uist is the second largest of the islands in the Western Isles, measuring some 22 miles north to south and 7 miles from east to west. The geography is divided into a series of north-south strips, each running the length of the island. The west coast faces onto the Atlantic and comprises around 20 miles of beach, broken only by a headland at the half-way point. Behind the beach is a strip of machair, or grassy duneland. East again is a strip containing a vast number of small fresh water lochans, and a series of dispersed crofting townships.

Heading out of Lochboisdale we find that the skies are clear and the sun is bright but not at a temperature that will induce sweat, perfect cycling weather? Sadly no, as we leave the sheltered port we become increasingly aware of the strong wind blowing down from the north. The wind at differing times is either blowing head on or diagonally across our bow, this is going to be a long day!! It is days like this that a cyclist grows to resent his panniers, as every hill presents a challenge and every turn in the road brings a hope of a change in wind direction.

Thankfully the single track road up the west side of the island is relatively flat with the mountains Beinn Mhor and Hecla to our right and the Atlantic always in view on our left. As we conclude our cycle through South Uist we pass a collection of buildings and domes degrading the summit of a scenic hill. They are part of the Ministry of Defence Missile Range that was built here in the late 1950s and which accounts for the number of "Danger Area" signs around the west coastal route we have just encountered.

Exiting South Uist we cross our first causeway into Benbecula. Nestled between North and South Uist in the Western Isles, Benbecula (Gael: Beinn na Faoghla, meaning 'mountain of the fords') is a low flat windswept island with a solitary hill that rises to 409 feet. It has an area of 20,270 acres comprising machair in the west and peat moorland in the east, and its main settlement is at Balivanich. An army base established here in 1958 was extended in 1971 to house military personnel servicing the South Uist rocket range and to the northeast lies the island's airfield. The total population numbers about 1300.

In 1960, HM Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother, opened a causeway over the North Ford connecting with North Uist and in 1982 another causeway was extended across the sands of South Ford linking the island to South Uist. At 5 miles (8 km) in length, the North Ford Causeway is the longest in the Western Isles. It clips the western end of the island of Grimsay and runs over various smaller islands on route. It is at these causeways that we encounter the relative splendour of a two way road and stunning sandy beaches deposited by the swift tidal streams of the Atlantic as it funnels in and out of the many lochans.

Crossing the final causeway we enter into North Uist and the final part of our marathon. North Uist measures some 18 miles from east to west by 12 miles from north to south, and has one of the most complex topographies you are likely to find anywhere. The eastern two thirds of the island are characterised by freshwater lochans that seem to occupy more of the land than the land itself, plus deeply indenting sea lochs that reduce still further the proportion of green to blue. The sparseness of shops and eating establishments on these islands is beginning to figure prominently in our thoughts as we slog through the relentless wind, so it is a great relief when we reach the crossroads village of Clachan and find a well stocked grocer shop which refuels our energy stores for the final 8 miles to Lochmaddy. This final stretch to our end destination requires that we change direction to a south easterly direction and refreshingly with a tail wind escorting us. The final 8 miles are completed in record time as we find top gear on our bikes and freewheel to Lochmaddy rejuvenated in the knowledge that the longest cycle stage of the tour is complete.

Our stopover for the evening (Uist Outdoor Centre) proves to be a déjà vu experience for us as we find that there is no landlady/owner/warden at this establishment either…trusting lot in this part of the world. Although we have pre-booked we have not paid for our evening stay, so it is surprising to find the backpackers centre empty with its doors open. Following the same process as yesterday we throw our bags on a bunk bed and make our exit. To further add to the feeling of déjà vu we encounter our cycling roommates from the previous evening in Lochmaddy who inform us that they are also staying the evening in the open door establishment.

Lochmaddy is the village capital and main settlement on the island of North Uist, a bustling metropolis this is not. A quiet little fishing village and port we quickly establish that it has one shop and two hotels, one seems to be unnecessarily extravagant and the other, a tad more affordable. We settle for the latter and find the food to be extremely good value for money with a homemade tomato and pepper soup to die for.

Returning to our digs we find that our erstwhile empty premises is now being overrun by a marauding group of teenagers. Our hearts immediately dive bomb to the pits of our tired legs as we anticipate a sleepless night filled with adolescent high jinks. We also find that our roommates from last night have sought sanctuary in our room for another evening; they too have the look of the dammed about them. We needn’t have worried as our cynicism was to be proven unnecessary. The children were firmly marshalled by three teachers who had taken them over from Skye to play a game of Shinty with their local rivals and the teenagers turned out to be fine ambassadors for themselves, their school and their island.

The teenagers, like us and our roommates are quick to extinguish the lights and rest their weary limbs before an early rise the following morning.