The wind has blown continuously since I landed on Barra. Last night it excelled itself. Woken at 2:30 by sounds of flapping tents and it was blowing a hoolie. I popped my head out of the door and satisfied it wasn’t mine blowing away went back to sleep. Have you seen how they build a shelter here?
My neighbours were leaving today having done the butt of Lewis yesterday. Age brings wisdom and they’d left their tents here and gone there and back without the load. Scott G was doing the same thing. I on the other hand was going fully laden up there and back to Stornaway. Ah well.
Not long on the road and I came across a sheiling. Something which has always fascinated me having shepherded a Thornshiels for many years.
I should have stayed here last night.
After that interest the road went on and on with little variation to either side of the road. Often evidence of structures supporting large sheep numbers now falling into disrepair and very few sheep to be seen. I caught up with a couple of young girls. One from Norfolk the other from Australia. Chatting to them broke the boredom until I spied a shop coming up on the right. I’d learnt to stop at shops as you never know when you’ll see one again. Inside of this shop was grim. Shelves sparsely stocked and an overweight young man who could have starred in a USA road trip movie. Literally all I could find to buy which I could enjoy was a packet of crisps. Back on the road, and I think the highlight of the day, I spotted a plastic box at the end of a driveway. Brilliant, home baking and a honesty box. Chocolate brownies and flapjack. What a lifesaver that was.
I trudged on further North Took a left turn and passed a football field. I remembered this from Larry Lamb’s Britain by Bike. Not as busy as when TV cameras were there. 😉 Not far to go now and quickly reached the end of the Hebridean Way.
just as well the girls were there or there would have been no one to take this photo.
So that was it what do you do next?
My plan was to get to Stornaway and make up a plan from there. Catching up with the girls again we rode together over a seemingly endless hill. The only indication we were getting closer was wider roads and more traffic. We broke the tedium discussing hitting the bright lights of Stornaway. Pubs, beer and food topping the agenda and they had some Harris Tweed shopping to do.
Three miles to go and the rain started. That cemented my decision to see if there was a bed at the hostel. The girls were going to wild camp as, they said, “They don’t play golf on a Sunday”