On Tuesday 24th August we awoke to the sound of surf and sea birds, cloudy and bright after a peaceful night. The previous evening a woman passed by the tent, recently having moved to Lewis, and told us of the cake boxes scattered around the road sides with honesty payment boxes. With more anticipation, we struck camp, loaded up and cycled around the corner to the Ness lighthouse. An impressive brick tower stood on grassy cliffs, with several stacks of the point, all covered in fulmars and other seabirds. It felt one of the most exposed lighthouses we had seen.
The passing lady of last night had also recommended a visit to the port of Ness and a sheltered bay on the east side nearby, excellent for swimming, which we duly headed to next. I was in the water first, followed soon after by Hannah. Lots of tiny jellyfish didn’t do us any harm and it was a lovely refreshing bathe. We watched a paddle boarder drift by and dried off quickly.
By now it was nearly lunch time so we cycled on a short distance to Ness port, and a busy cafe. With news of a glass hour wait for food we tucked into oat soup instead, while a local woman said hello and explained how to pronounce failte (welcome) in Gaelic, and to say thank you (tap a leit).
A group of six cycle tourists then arrived at the end of their Hebridean Way, embroiled in logistics. We left them to it and set off to retrace our route southwest down the coast. The going back was tougher than the way there, due to both more of a head wind, and the familiarity of the scenery. After another stop at the community cafe for tea at last we made it back to the Barabhas petrol station where we stocked up on some food and beer.
Now cycling southwest into bright afternoon sun, we were both tiring, and the last 10 km were quite tough, despite the gentle hills. At 5pm we came across a tiny stone built sheiling, or summer pasture house, used by crofters to look after cattle in the summer months out on the moors. The indoor furnishings had been restored to show the tiny bed and kitchen set up.
At 5.30 we passed the whale bone erected in a postman’s garden after it was washed up on the beach, and finally arrived at the Shawbost campsite at 6.
Tent up, Hannah collapsed inside with a beer whilst Robbie cycled down briefly to the beach before sunset. Still no sign of any famous Lewis surf so he came back to make a start on Chinese rice in a campers kitchen, the midges now back in force. We both ate zipped up in the tent and then ordered a breakfast delivery for the morning.
Wednesday dawned cloudy and damp as expected, but the delivery of full Scottish breakfast practically to our tent door helped get us up. Packed up, we set off just as Hannah realised her Kindle was missing. Searching everywhere without success, we decided it must be buried in a pannier bag, and departed west down the coast.
Passing a funeral on the way, quickly we arrived at Gearrannan black house village, which had been restored to a visitor centre, accommodation and mock original house. Had a working tweed loom and peat fire, as well as very interesting films on weaving tweed and cutting peat, both as done today using traditional techniques. Peat cutting and drying is still a communal event across the island to heat homes through the winter.
At 12.30 we decided to have jacket potatoes with kippers for lunch at the café, then cycled back to the main road and turned south around one of the numerous inlets on this part of Lewis. Almost immediately we came across the best cake box of the trip, and bought up tea cake, rocky road and flapjack in case of shortages later on. Next stop was Callanish standing stone circle, with a ring of 2 metre high stones somehow positioned in the bronze age, and several stone rows radiating out from the circle. We walked back to our bikes for a cup of tea and some cake box cake.
The limited road network of Lewis meant it was now a case of the crossing the island to the east side almost to Stornoway in order to make progress south. A steady long straight climb took us to the island centre, followed by a gentle descent to the east coastal road. Whilst not far from Stornoway, we decided against returning there into a headwind and instead turned southwest once more to seek out a wild camp spot. This turned out to be easier said than done as relative rush hour traffic passed by on the winding road. We turned off down one side road towards a loch, only to find all gates to it locked. A parking bay felt a bit to exposed so we continued south on the main road towards a picnic spot.
With great relief we arrived at the spot to find it raised up well hidden from the road by trees and a large boulder, and with just enough breeze to keep the wrist of the midges at bay. Hannah started preparing food whilst I went to find water. The nearby loch was in drought and rather stagnant but a river 1km south was following nicely, and perfect for filtering with the platypus. As we tucked into pasta dinner, snug at our site, a dog walker passed by, as well as some more cycle tourists heading south. Surprisingly they didn’t stop but perhaps had a hotel booked. We bedded down happy and tired for the night.
Pedalling_Patagonia 