9. Harris to Benbecula

28-30 August 2021

On Saturday 28th August, we awoke to low cloud above, and even lower clouds of midges around the tent. Earlier on at first light, we were treated to the sounds of our neighbours striking camp half asleep whilst being half eaten alive. Whilst their hushed cursing in the gloom was annoying, we were satisfied that they had been punished enough by the time they left to get the early ferry, and we rolled over to let the midges die down as far as possible, in no rush for our mid afternoon ferry only an hour away.

Venturing out at last, we found that sitting right by the seawater edge, we could just about eat breakfast and drink coffee in peace. We packed up efficiently and cycled across the peninsula to the An Traigh cafe bar overlooking Nisabost beach for lunch of sih and chips and local smoked salmon.

Happily fed, it was a leisurely 16 km ride around the west coast of South Harris to the Berneray ferry at Leverburgh. We passed some modern croft-style stone houses with views out across the Sound of Taransay, but decided none of them could match the Horgabost campsite.

The low cloud clung to the hills all around us, but with glimmers of blue sky in between, the wind freshening from the northeast. We turned gradually south past the Toe Head peninsula and then southeast up and over a small hill and down to Loch Steisebhat. We stopped for some provisions at the Harris community shop, and then turned off the A859 to the ferry point. The Anchorage restaurant here provided a source of chocolate brownie as we waited.

We were last onto the ferry from Leverburgh, jogging down the ramp not to be left behind. The route to Berneray started with us heading south, past red and green lateral buoys, and coming close enough to small islands on either side that it felt we must surely touch. Eventually we turned west and touched into the Berneray ferry terminal, another steep slipway, sheltered by a breakwater to the east, a causeway to the west and the isle of Berneray to the north. We cycled 300m north initially to browse the Bernerary shop and then headed south and west across the causeway to North Uist.

It was an easy cycle over the causeway, passing signs for otters crossing, but not seeing any. And then a gentle half hour ride along mostly flat terrain down the B893. We soon arrived at the turn off for Clachan Sands, heading 500m northwest back to the coast and an informal camping site, with honesty box and freshwater tap.

We arrived to a collection of camper vans well spread out along the grassy site overlooking silver sand beaches and aquamarine water. We picked a spot well exposed to counter any possible midges, but needn’t have worried as the freshening breeze blew grey clouds scudding acros the leaden sky. After pitching the tent, some shelter from a van began to look rather appealing, but we went off for a walk and settled ourselves down to cooking tomato sardine pesto pasta with spinach and mushroom, with another Skye Black beer for company.

Sunday morning dawned cloudy but dry, and with lighter winds, few birds or people to disturb, Robbie took a chance to fly the drone, wholst Hannah went for a walk on the beach. We were soon on our way, heading southwest briefly before turning west onto the A865. Traffic was very light as we rejoined the broken north coast of North Uist, touching inlets at regular intervals.

After an hour we passed the cluster settlements of Dunskellar and Sollas, which were reorganised and then cleared by Lord MacDonald in the 1840s. Many of the crofting tenants were listed as MacDonalds too, so it was unclear whether Robbie’s ancestors were on the right or wrong side of history here, but it felt likely that a great great great great grandparent my have been not too far away from the events.

We continued west past Vassay island, its historical remains accessible on foot at low tide, and skirting Ben Scolpaig. Sadly the Wee Cottage Kitchen food van was closed on the Sunday, but views of beautiful crofts and black highland cows kept our spirits up as we turned south. We turned off the main road at 1pm and found our way to the west coast, whist sand beaches and the Balranald Nature Reserve.

20 minutes later we were at the campsite of the same name, where an enthusiastic owner checked us in – offering us 2 pitches, one of which available for one night and the other two, slightly further away. We opted for the latter just in case, and also bought some local shrimp from him for lunch. Heated up on the stove, we munched through them merrily with cheese and oatcakes before pitching up the tent.

That afternoon, we set off for a good walk across beautiful machair to the whitest sand beach so far, and a circular traverse around the Aird an Runair peninsular, through fields of rather nervous, but docile enough, cows and their calves.

Back at the campsite, we made the most of the drying room to wash a few clothes and then headed back to the northern beach to watch the sun going down. We could hardly believe the forecast for the next few days – dry, sunny intervals and a moderate northeasterly breeze to blow us along.

On Monday morning, we found our washing disappointingly damp in the drying room, so moved it outside to dry as best it could in an hour or two. After usual breakfast we packed up and secured the dampest clothes to the outside of our rack bags under the bungees and headed off southeast.

The A865 passed uneventfully, with a brisk crosswind but with no more than a 25m hill to overcome, the landscape roughly 50% water on the left and tidal flats on the right. After lunch, we turned south and then southwest for the string of causeways over to Benbecula, touching briefly on the island of Grimsay.

On Bebecula we turned west onto the B892, past the airport and into Balivanich. A group of cyclists heading north had spoken disparigingly of this little town the day before, and we quickly saw why, the town clearly identified as a military base comprising row upon row of identical small grey houses. It did however contain a small restaurant where we stopped for a cream tea and to use the facilities mid afternoon.

Leaving the military town behind us we turned sharply south and came across the Baile Nan Cailleach burial ground, a medieval graveyard and chapel. The sun out, we continued south, touching the coast once more and passing fields with old traditional hay stacks being piled up by little old tractors.

At 5pm we arrived at the Otter Edge campsite and pitched up in a large field backing onto sand dunes. The owner’s daughter is a keen wildlife photographer and told us of several otter families on the beach nearby. We took a bottle of beer round to the beach, and sat down against the machair dunes to enjoy it, completely forgetting a bottle opener. Hannah nobly returned to the tent to fetch one and soon we were relaxing in the evening sun.

Small grey shapes out in the sea revealed themselves to be seals on closer inspection, and we waded some way out over the shallow sand bars to get a closer look. 100m away the colony of 20 or so seals paid us little attention, a picture of contentment on their sandy rocks.