On Thursday 26th August, after a peaceful night in the wild, we woke to sunshine and fluffy clouds, and just a few midges. We were heading west on the A859 by 10.30, and after a couple of miles came across the Kinloch Historical Society community hub. A friendly local was mopping the floors before opening time but welcomed us in for coffee and a look around exhibits of historical life in the local area, with plenty of interesting photos, as well as displays on local military: in particular a sniper regiment formed from local deer stalkers.
By the time we left, the skies had cleared completely and we were cruising southwest in clear sunshine. We passed a memorial to the ‘Heroes of Lochs’ involved in the struggle for land during the clearances, and the landing point of Bonnie Prince Charlie in 1746 in his escape after the Battle of Culloden. Despite an enormous ransom on his head, he wasn’t betrayed by anyone in the Hebrides. We climbed southwest into the Aline community woodland, a pleasant change from the peat bogs across most of the island, and then turned south and downhill with stunning views east over Loch Seaforth, the sun glistening on the water, more like the Mediterranean than Scotland.
At 12.45, a sign announced our arrival into Harris, and delightfully a gourmet pop-up seafood van, Taste and Sea, appeared parked by the road surrounded by a throng of hungry tourists. We ordered two fish platters and sat down to eat on a grassy bank overlooking the loch, next to an older couple cycling on a tandem heading north. Inspirationally, they had tandemmed all over the world, but most recently from Ipswich up the east coast to Edinburgh and then across to the Hebrides. They left us to enjoy our fishcakes, langoustines, haddock and scampi.
With some reluctance, we left the van and set off south to climb the 200 m back up and over to the west coast of Harris. Sheep darted across the road, dodging between snow poles as we got to the top of the pass and paused for some cake. A herd of red deer watched us suspiciously from far down below the road. A few ups and downs and at last we turned west and down an incredible 5 km descent past lochs and then south east arriving into Tarbert at 3pm, now almost two hot in the sun! First stop the distillery, which alas was too young to have any whisky yet, after which the local grocers to buy supplies for tonight.
A steep climb lay between us and the campsite, and in the heat we were frustrated at being just too far from any beaches or lochs to cool off in, but we set off uphill as quickly as we could. Soaked in sweat, we couldn’t believe this was Scotland as we entered Harris’ famous ‘moonscape’ of limestone rocks and heather. At the top we turned off south down a stunning switchback “golden road” (so named because of the cost to build), and down to the Lickisto Black campsite.
No one was in at the door, but we had booked and saw our names written down against a pitch, and a map of the site, so set off to find our spot, “Nether region”, through the thick scrubland which had been created on the site. Finding it after 10 minutes, we were sadly amazed to discover the air thick with midges despite the heat and sun. Tent was up in double quick time and Hannah dived inside whilst I ran away to try to find easy access to the loch.
Unfortunately all loch access was made near impossible by sharp limestone rocks and I returned to the tent even hotter and more dismayed. It was infuriating on possibly the best day of the year to be trapped inside a hot tent to avoid being eaten alive. I wandered around investigating other pitches for midge level with little success, but did find the beautiful cool dark communal Blackhouse. After some heated discussion, I then went for a shower and we both headed to the Blackhouse to cook dinner, life looking a little less bleak.
As we sat down to eat, we met a young couple travelling by camper van who had moved to Edinburgh from South Africa, one teacher, one nutritionist. We talked camping, Scotland, teaching and life and then headed back to the tent in the dark, the midges at last seeming to have settled down for the night. Whilst a frustrating end, the day as a whole had been some of the best cycling and food anyone could ever wish for. Thank you Harris!
Friday dawned with yet more clear blue skies and just the hint of a breeze enough to blow away a few midges. With a short day planned to Horgabost beach, we decided to investigate the Lickisto inflatable kayak on the loch. Still no sign of the camping owners, so we found the kayak half deflated in some bushes with a pump tied to it. We pulled it up only to find a notable hole, which we endeavoured to fix with duck tape. This proved only half effective due to the location in the seam, but we decided to press on, taking the pump with us.
As we launched into the loch, I tripped over a rock and badly bruised my foot. Assuming cold to be the best treatment, we continued the launch with my foot over the side, hoping it wouldn’t attract too much attention from sharks. We paddled out as the air hissed out gently through our patch, and settled to a regular routine of foot checking, pumping and paddling. The sheep looked on from the bank unimpressed.
Not wanting to sail too far from home in our somewhat unorthodox state, we went 500 m up one way and then 500 m the other way, seeing the odd jellyfish drift by. At 11am we returned to shore and collected our bikes and panniers. At last we found the owner by her house, and paid for the pitch and kayak before setting off back up the hill at noon. Fortunately my bruise was on the side of my foot and didn’t inhibit cycling. Some patches of low cloud and mist blew in from the east, making the route back up blessedly cooler than the day before and no less beautiful. We stopped for lunch half way up the golden road and then were soon at the top.
The sun back out, we turned west with a long cruisy descent down to Seilebost, the first of Harris’ incredible white sand beaches, bordered by salt marsh. The sand continued until soon we arrived at Horgabost, the most beautiful beach either of us had seen in Europe. The campsite backed right on to the dunes, and we found a spot as close to the water as possible. Tent up, I ran immediately into the sea, whose crystal clear calm water shelved north so gently that it was knee deep 50 m from shore. At last it was deep enough to swim in and Hannah came in to join me soon after.
The combination of cycling and sun left us both warm enough to stay in the water for all of 5 minutes. But without wetsuits the north Atlantic chill soon kicked in and we waded out to warm up under the dunes. Robbie went off to buy a hotdog from a van back near the road, and then around to the next bay where a clifftop cafe sold beer to take away.
We sipped beer on the beach with our books before going for a stroll in the evening sun and then cooking up some peanut butter soy sauce tuna noodles. A solo female cyclist dropped by to ask for a bottle opener just as the first midges appeared. We were disappointed to find that they could inhabit sand dunes just as happily as scrub and moorland, and settled in for another early night.
Pedalling_Patagonia 