Outer Hebrides - where the wind blows

Hebrides - Scotland's Western Isles

This is the story of how a week's holiday was enjoyed in the mysterious world of Scotland's Outer Hebrides. We left Newcastle facing an eight hour drive to Skye. Took A1 via Edinburgh and after skirting the north of the city happened upon Leith. The area is undergoing massive redevelopment and we found a splendid sandwich shop, not cheap.

We made our way to Dalmeny to catch to train to North Queensferry to take us over the Forth Bridge. A life time ambition fulfilled thanks to a visit there aged six and the film The 39 Steps.

Then it as pedal to the metal for Skye,

Just a slight problem though. The room wasn’t booked. We phoned ahead to warn the hotel we would be a few minutes late and they suddenly realised we were not booked in. We settled down to eat some fifteen miles from our destination. The call came through, we were booked in  –  next door.

We may have been lucky or the good fortune smiled upon us but next door was excellent. The Laurel Bank was as comfortable bed and breakfast as one could wish to find.

Next up was the first of the ferry journeys before us. This was a one and half hour voyage between Uig in Skye to Lochmaddy in North Uist. It was a damp and drizzly morning but the sea was clam. The passage was uneventful.

North Uist greeted us with all the grey misery the Scottish weather could muster. We called in to the local tourist information office. We were greeted by a friendly northerner. North England that is, not Scotland. A few recommendations later we headed towards a bird reserve on the other side of North Uist, twenty minutes away.

Landing at Barra airport

The weather worsened. The bird reserve offered us a fleeting view of a buzzard and gallons and gallons of falling rain. We remained in the car. Nothing more for it but to try an early check in to the Benbecula hotel.

The delightful Catherine MacPhee allowed us in and settled us into the room. Then a break in the rain. We seized our opportunity and hit the trail. We were not long into our trek when ominous clouds presented themselves. We were at this time looking at the Benbecula burial ground. Nothing for it, we thought, lets head to the beach.

A gate allowed us into an adjacent field and beyond it dunes leading onto a pure white sand beach. We were greeted by mighty gusts. It was bracing but all too soon the rain arrived.

We were equipped. Covered top to toe in waterproofs we headed across the beach and onto the road. We pushed on. By now the wind was at our backs and so was the rain. Eventually we came upon a small jetty. Just time here for a few quick photographs before turning and heading straight into a biting wet wind. This was the Hebrides writ large.

A long bath and followed by drying our inner core allowed us to engage in our next event. We had to deliver our car to the ferry port at the southern most tip of the Hebridean causeway, the isle of Eriskay. The plan was to collect it after a few days over the water in Barra.

First though dinner and en-route to Eriskay dinner. The delightful Polochar Inn provided us, and television celebrity Ben Fogle with it. Ben was on the island filming a documentary of the popular wartime comedy, Whisky Galore.

So to the purpose of the trip. To take the only scheduled flight where the destination runway is a beach. The flight from Benbecula to Barra lasts under fifteen minutes. It has been under threat for years because of the subsidies needed to keep the route viable. On our flight there were just seven passengers.

Vatersay

From the Otter cafe in the north we headed south to yet another island. Vatersay lay some distance hence, eight miles or so. There is not a lot on Vatersay but it does possess two excellent beaches which are, effectively, back to back. This combined with a marked walk provides a wonderful way to spend an afternoon even if, on this afternoon, the wind blew relentlessly.

The Loganair Twin Otter moved steadily to the end of the runway and in an instant was airborne. The day of the flight was punctuated by strong winds. Soon the seventeen seat aircraft was being bumped and buffeted in the air. Great fun. The lochs of Benbecula and South Uist drifted along until the plane descended suddenly towards a hill. The hill cleared, the plane came down gently upon the sand. A brilliant experience.

A pre-booked car saw us driving an eight year old Seat Leon. It 
was all that was needed; Barra is only ten miles or so around. Barra airport is in the north of the island so we headed south to the capital, Castlebay. It took around twenty minutes.

It soon became clear that Barra was short of places to have lunch in September but the Heritage Centre in Castlebay provided a nutritious meal. It was also in Castlebay that we located a recommended place for an evening meal. The Kisimul Cafe we were told served up curries in the evenings and so they did.

The next day the weather blew a gale but there was compensation was sun, long periods of it. We journeyed, in fact as far north as is possible on the island to Eoisgarry. More pristine beaches are on this part of the island and on a blowy day like this they are also deserted save for a handful of cockle pickers.

At certain points along the beach it was possible to take shelter from the wind and there is was more like a beautiful late summer day. Across the wide sandy bay you could make out the deep turquoises of the sea which separates Barra from Eriskay and South Uist.

Lunch was to be found at the unheralded Otter Cafe by the Ardmore ferry terminal. It was unusual here in the Hebrides to hear another Yorkshire accent come back at you as you make your order. A couple from Doncaster now run the Otter and serve simple lunches and magnificent homemade cake in quiet unspoilt surroundings.

Dinner was in Barra’s top rated restaurant, the Isle of Barra hotel. The hotel is half way through a long term refurbishment and the food was good if not outstanding. The service though was excellent.

Our second full day on Barra saw the wind fall and though the sun had gone with it the stillness was perfect walking weather. The walk we chose was a relatively gentle ample to a local landmark called The Big Rock of Glen. As you climb you get a remarkable view of the beach on which the plane lands. Within minutes of arriving we saw the tide receding dramatically. The plane was due from Glasgow thirty minutes later by which time the sea had cleared away.

The Big Rock is just that. Standing about six metres high the boulder is unremarkable but the view from its position are superb.

The remotest post box in Britain

Later we took a trip to Barra’s top tourist attraction Kisimul Castle. This was a trip with a difference as a wedding was taking place at the same time. We took the launch the short two minute ride to the castle and were piped off by a bagpipe player. Kisimul is small by normal castle standards but has plenty of nooks and crannies to explore in about half an hour.

Kisimul is the family seat of the MacNeil’s and one of their number renovated the place between the 1950’s and 70’s. It is now operated by Historic Scotland. Today, the tourists shared the castle with a wedding party. This was not too intrusive for either party and the piper leading in the bride added to the splendid atmosphere.

We left the castle to explore the adjacent headland and although the castle was by now nearly 1000 metres away, the sound of the pipes carried over the water to add to the overall enjoyment of the stroll.

By now it was time to head back to hotel, some five miles away, to the north of the island near to the airport. Far-sightedly, or so we thought, we had purchased return bus tickets at the airport although our return would be completed at about a mile short of there.

We were wrong. The bus driver of our return journey questioned our wisdom about getting a return in a stern manner. She was not headed for the airport. No problem said we, “we are only going to Northbay” It was en-route, we had checked. This did not please the stern Scottish women questioning our wisdom. She snatched our tickets, through them on the dash and, with a flick of her head, indicated that we may now be seated on her bus.

We would like to think that we are not stupid people. So we start to calculate what the difference is fare would be had we bought two singles instead of the troubled return. We concluded that we may have overpaid to the tune of twenty pence. So our furious bus driver gave us a five minute grilling because we had paid her company twenty pence too much.

Chances were though we had paid the right amount but despite her reluctance to transport us we were dropped outside the door of the hotel as we had wished. She was in isolation the only sour Hebridean we encountered in a week of island hopping.

So it was that we began to retrace our steps home. First the short ferry from Barra to Eriskay. Then collecting our car which we had left days earlier at the Eriskay ferry harbour, the journey north began, all one hour of it.

Eriskay was pretty enough but with little to keep you there as it is so small, so expectation for the next island, South Uist, was high. This was somewhat misplaced. For despite having some attractive thatched crofts, a number of amazing beaches and a fabulous nature reserve, South Uist wants it for itself and not for the outsider, or so it would seem. If it were not for our guidebook, we would have missed everything on this island. No signs, no literature, come to think of it, no people. It was a Sunday and the place was deserted. Eerily so.

So it was back to our splendid B&B on Benbecula for a night of rest before a quick dash around the picturesque North Uist, certainly in comparison to its miserable southern neighbour. Right on time the ferry arrived at Lochmaddy to whisk us away to Skye.

We had only see Skye at night, no pun intended, through a veil of pouring raid. Today was dry. Portree was our destination and a B&B just outside town. First though the Fairy Glen near Uig. You will find it in the guide books and mentioned by some tourist literature but you not find a single sign on Skye for it. Perhaps that is wise. It is gorgeous. It was described as a Highland Glen in miniature to us. We cannot add to that description. For a three quarter stretch of single tracked dead end road, it is just that. The sun came out. Bliss.

Next the half hour drive along the Trotternisch peninsula. Coming towards the Eastern coast were breathtaking views all round. Simply wonderful. Our drive continued to the Kilted rock, a waterfall into the sea. For us though the delight of this place was the cloud, sun and light playing tricks in a most dramatic and moody way.

“Welcome.” We had heard that a lot but a bit like the Otter cafe, this greeting was proffered by a Yorkshireman. Not Doncaster this time but Huddersfield. Tim was our host and he also took photographs of Skye to sell as a sideline. Not a bad job, not bad at all.

And that was just about that. The Uists and Barra while interesting are probably best seen in warmth in a few short summer weeks. Barra, whilst small, seemed to have most going for it as a destination. We had spent a week on these Hebridean islands and felt we had discovered most of their undoubted charms. We do not expect to go back although the B&B in Benbecula was exceptional. Skye though was a dramatic place. It is long way from anywhere save for the Kyle of Lochalsh but is a place worth of our attention in the future. I think we will be back.