The Western Isles 2015

Day 0 Kilmarnock to Lochmaddy

“Don’t forget,” I said, “the website is always on the lookout for content, especially if it involves bikes…”

So after years of meaning to I thought I should make an effort myself.

Introduction.

This is the fifth cycle touring holiday – the first was a package from Breton Bikes, if you look on their website then you might recognise us from one of the videos. After that we were inspired by listening to another Riderz parent to head off on our own and they recommended The Outer Hebrides.
We always try to keep a holiday diary anyway, but it tends to be quite thorough for the first few days before kind of tapering off or being lost, hopefully doing it like this will make me stick it through to the end.

The plan is to drive to Uig on Skye, then get the ferry to Lochmaddy and spending 5 days cycling around the Northern Western Isles before getting the ferry from Tarbert back to Uig.
I’ll put links to the accomodation in a seperate post and maybe a map.

Day Zero – 248 miles, 100 yards.

So we leave Killie early for once and the weather is lovely!

Skye is miles away. Really far. Further than Wigan and Wigan is in a different country.
But dropping into Skye is like visiting somewhere foreign, the roads narrow the sun shines whilst I doze gently in the passenger seat. Long car journeys always involve an audiobook, it was to be “Paper Towns” but after the first 20 minutes or so it becomes clear it’s a bit certificate 15 so we listen to War Horse instead and when we arrive in Uig we are all in tears.

As we’re unpacking the bikes in the Ferry Carpark (free parking!) we got chatting to a couple just off the ferry on a tandem, which I once considered only as a subject of mockery (thans to the Goodies I think) but I am now beginning to covet. They are just back from 2 weeks on the Hebrides and tell tales of howling gales and beautiful beaches.

Things to remember – my wife and daughter in their Altura hi-vis jackets look just the same as the sailors on the ferry. Don’t follow the wrong people on the car deck is all I’m saying.

The Route.
I know I was consulted on the route but suddenly, sitting on the observation deck of the good ship MV Finlaggan, I’m having second thoughts. Tomorrow doesn’t sound too bad but the day after sounds a bit ambitious:

“36 miles and 1686 feet in a day?” I exclaim.
“We talked about this – I knew you were’t listening.” Suzy replies (This is true).
“Google maps reckons 3 hrs 20. What do you think?” she asks.

I think it will take us all day, involve taxis and probably a ten year old having a tantrum. And maybe a 43 year old too.
But I don’t say anything other than “Are you sure I agreed to this?”

But first we have to get from the ferry to the Lochmaddy hotel, a good hundred yards. During which my chain falls off and my rear mech hits my spokes.
Seem I hadn’t got away with the crash last month as well as I’d hoped and the rear hanger is bent but a bit of brute force and it’s running again.

To be continued…

Day 1 Lochmaddy to Tarbet

34 miles
988 feet climbed
Average Speed 10
VMax 32.5 mph
In which the Blank Family discovers the assistive properties of a stonking tailwind and Suzy wishes she had gone out on her bike a bit more before we left.

Great nights sleep followed by a top notch breakfast at the Lochmaddy hotel

And we’re off – it’s 10 miles to the ferry which will take us from North Uist to Isle of Harris and we can’t be late so we leave in plenty of time to get a cup of tea from the Lobster Pot cafe before the 1025 ferry. A lovely cup of tea from a woman who is the Auntie of one of Millie’s teachers we didn’t knowthis, it just came up in conversation – the locals are very chatty. (Teacher number 2 – we met another one of her teachers on the ferry).

So a short ferry trip and we’re on Harris and we have a stonking 15-20 knot tailwind which translates into a comfortable 20-25 mph on the flat. Now there was a visitor centre but to be honest we were fairly clattering along and Millie was going for a PB Vmax (28 mph at that point although she saw 32.5 later in the day) so we didn’t stop.

It’s the Hebrides so it is a bit windy but that is more than made up for by the scenery and the driving! – everyone patiently sits behind waiting for a passing place to pass, we even got a flash of the blues from a panda car after he’d patiently followed us down a hill.

We saw all the sights of Tarbert and bought a document wallet in the Harris Tweed shop whilst simultaneously establishing that neither Suzy nor I would suit a tweed hat before checking in at the Harris Hotel.

Tomorrow is the longest day with 38 miles and 1686 feet to climb so I’m not sure how that is going to go as Suzy is complaining of sore knees, bum and everything else. And got dropped by a ten year old on all the hills.

But we chatted to a taxi driver over lunch who confirmed that his car is big enough to take her bike and she wouldn’t be the first cyclist he’s given a lift to.

To be continued…

Day 2 Tarbet to Stornoway.

Distance travelled 37 miles
Climb 1600 feet
Average speed 10mph
Falls 2
Submissions 0
In which we have discovered the perils of crosswinds, the pleasure of tailwinds and travelled under the protection of the Windy Budgie.

The best night’s sleep I’ve had in ages at the Harris Hotel in Tarbert, breakfast was lovely too but dinner was a bit hit and miss (we may have chosen badly). Very helpful staff though and they had a special room to keep our bikes safe and dry.
The day started with a climb out of Tarbert,

not too bad but before we had gone a couple of miles both Millie and Suzy got blown off by a BIG crosswind. This is not a good start to the day.
We had a quick discussion and decided that we’ll walk up the hill and see how it is at the top, if it’s still the same then we’ll go back to Tarbert and get the bus – this is supposed to be a holiday after all not some sort of endurance test. As we get to the top it eases a bit and we concoct a cunning plan.

Miners once had pet canaries which they kept in small cages and took underground with them, in the event of a methane gas build up the canary would suffocate and the miner, thus warned, would escape to safety. Inspired by this Suzy is nominated as our Wind Budgie (because when we first coined the name we convinced ourselves miners used budgies rather than canaries) and she bravely rode 50 or so yards ahead of us squealing if she got hit by a cross wind or occassionally getting knocked into the hedgerow. Thus warned, Millie and I would have lots of opportunity to safely slow down or stop.
And this is how we covered the 37 miles to Stornoway.

This nickname was in no way added to by Suzy’s new helmet which makes her look like a character from Battle of the Planets ™.

Tonight we’re staying in the Tower Guest House in Stornoway. “I am Tanya, from the Ukraine” the landlady introduces herself, but I’ve seen enough Hammer movies to know where that accent is from. It’s straight from Central Casting and they don’t sell it as a Ukrainian accent, they sell it as Transylvanian.

I think idiosyncratic probably covers the decor, more carved wooden animals than one would normally associate with anything other than an Abbot and Costello movie, there’s also a wall size frieze of a woodland scene in our room from which I suspect a goblin may emerge in the middle of the night, while we sleep, and take our souls.

But Tanya is very friendly and has agreed to freeze some of our food we’ll need for tomorrow when we are going to the Black House village hostel and I bet she cooks a mean breakfast.

The weather forecast for tomorrow has improved slightly but it is still forecasting heavy rain and 43 knots by 1800 so we are going to try for an early start and maybe a taxi (presuming during the night no creature has stolen our souls).

An Apology
It turns out that making settings changes to the website on a small phone screen is not as easy as it sounds and I may have accidentally spammed everyone on the mailing list. Sorry.
(Special thanks to the very helpful man behind the counter of the Harris Hotel who let me use his PC to fix stuff…)

Day 3 Stornoway to An Geàrrannan

Distance 28 Miles (for most of us)
Climb 939 feet
Souls retained – 100%
Max speed – not recorded but I doubt we saw 12 mph
Wind speed – Cataclysmic.

No goblins appeared during the night to claim my soul (as far as I know), breakfast was amazing and depsite the slightly idiosynchratic nature of the B&B (the number of carved wooden animals in the dining room is well into double figures) I can ‘t help but recommend it. Tanya made us the best breakfast of the trip so far and her establishment is spotless – plus her accent is fantastic. As we were eating, the room got very dark causing her to say (in best Transylvanian) “Oh spoooky!” Then she put the lights on and went to look where all the daylight had gone.
“It is very dark. There are how you say? Errm not snow but errm”
“Rain? ” we interrupt hopefully.
“No ice balls, falling from the sky. Very dark. Is breakfast nice?”
Oh great it’s hailing, exactly the sort of storm we got up especially early to avoid. Still we’re up now and by the time we are ready to leave the sky has cleared and we are off, tyres on tarmac at 0835 which is astonishing for us (yesterday it was 1040).
I do like a bit of proper weather and there are few better places to see it forming than in the massive skys’ of the Hebrides, Millie and I spend an interesting hour or so alternately avoiding being blown into the shrubbery and discussing the huge Cumulo Nimbus clouds being formed right in front of our eyes.

Of course being on a bike in a 20-30knot crosswind / headwind with no shelter imminent is perhaps not the best place to watch it from but that’s just details.
First stop is the Black House at Arnol. An Historic Scotland curated traditional black house complete with peat fire etc. And no cafe.
Look I shouldn’t dwell on this, and the woman in the shop was just lovely (I’ve yet to visit a Historic Scotland site where the staff are anything less than fantastic) but no cafe. I’m cold and I have yet to have a cup of tea this morning (except for the 3 at breakfast).
Still, not to worry we leave smelling of peat smoke and head for what is promised to be a cafe, well she said they did coffee but I swear she muttered something about “benches” and “outside”.
40 North has the tastiest selection of treats I have seen in a long time, but it is a deli, it ain’t a cafe. They have benches outside (30 knots remember, most people are wearing puffa jackets and Gore-Tex shells) so we huddle in the corner of the shop munching away in the hope she won’t ask us to leave…

Right. Only 10 miles to go. The wind is picking up and it’s forecast to hit 43 knots but so far no rain so we just plug away… After the third time Millie is nearly blown off we take refuge in a bus shelter and Suzy starts looking at the timetable.
“Shall we see if we can get a taxi Mil?” I ask her, half jokingly.
” Yes.” She replies earnestly.
Oh god. That’s a bad sign, despite outward appearances she never gives up. I look round laughing and ask if she’s any idea where I might find one and suddenly notice a chap coming out of the house opposite. And getting into a Volvo estate.
A Volvo estate with a single roof bar on top.
A roof bar to which someone has attached a tranlucent plastic box with the word ‘Taxi’ written on it.
“Excuse me!” I shout, crossing the road.
“Oh it’s yourselves! How are you getting on?” Asks the taxi driver from 2 days ago in Tarbert, the same one who had boasted that he could definitely fit our bikes in his car.
It turns out DJ, from DJ’s Taxis,
can fit 2 bikes and all our luggage in his car and saves our holiday. He is possibly the world’s greatest taxi driver.

He takes the girls whilst I plug on, heroically, through the wind to meet them at our next stop…

We’re overnighting in Ostail nan Geàrrannan tonight, an Hostel in a frankly idyllic hamlet of restored and modernised black houses, some are museums, some are self catering cottages and one is a hostel and we appear to have it to ourselves.

The sun is shining but the wind is blowing even harder so rather than a pleasant stroll on the beach we are going to hunker down in our very own black house/hostel and play cards until bedtime.
Just hope no-one else turns up…

Day 4 An Geàrrannan to Loch Erisort Inn

Miles covered 32
Falls – none
Greatest temperature difference experinced in a 20 minute period – 8 degrees
Average speed – very high due tailwind
Neolithic monuments visited – 2

I can’t recommend the hostel highly enough – it’s utterly unique – we all had the best night’s sleep so far and I was woken by the gentle sound of hail on the skylight over my face.
Wait. The sound of hail?
Oh. Oh dear.
We press on with the plan and get up early for an early breakfast and try to ignore the pitter patter of ice balls (as I going to call them from now on thanks to Tanya) on the roof. The sound subsides and we look outaide to be greeted by this – a massive storm heading our way.

Right, it’s Sunday in the Hebrides and as such nothing is open except the Churches so if we are going to get anywhere we are going to have to pedal. So we dress appropriately

And as soon as the shower is past we are off.
This is what cycling holidays are supposed to be – deserted highways, sunny weather, a gentle tailwind and breathtaking views. We chat, we pedal, and we chat some more.
At the half way point we pass the Standing Stones of Calanais

Which are excellent. But here are some more views.

We stop for lunch behind a rock to shelter and notice another front approaching so, in a rare display of deiciveness, we jump on the bikes and try and outrun it.
You can’t outrun a storm on bikes but you can get pushed in front of it, so whist watching the temp drop from +12 to a fearsome +4, we push on seeing 20-25mph on deserted roads…
(There may have been some ice balls and perhaps a little sleet but we’ll ignore that).

The weather turns on us again later in the day but by the time it does we are almost home and it’s our best cycling day so far. We arrive at the Loch Erisort Inn before 1400!

Do you remember those Tennent signs, the yellow ones that light up. The Erisort Inn has one outside and has that ever been a positive indicator of a quality pub?
We walk into a bar which feels local, dressed self conciously in full on cycling gear (lycra). It’s not a good look.
Bernie (the landlord) introduces himself and his wife and shows us up to our room and it is lovely. Bright, spacious, spotlessly clean and we have a BATH!
I felt bad for ever doubting the place, Bernie couldn’t be nicer, in fact when he hears Suzy discussing the weather tomrrow (45 knot headwind from 1100) he even offers us a lift to Tarbert, some 30 miles away, in the morning. We politely decline but it’s a generous offer.

After a shower for some of us (a power shower, made by what must be a Kaarcher subsidiary) and a BATH for Suzy we settle down in the bar to play pool, get drunk and eat food. Steak and Ale pie – widely voted to be the best meal of the trip so far, and includes home cooked chips.

The bar’s everything you think it is – a wide range of inexplicable ephemera, about all of which Bernie has a story to share, and groups of friendly locals to chat to.

Last day tomorrow and it’s a ride in a gale to Tarbert…

Day 5 Loch Erisort – Tarbert

Distance covered 28 miles
People bumped into 4
Rescues made 2
Max Wind – Off scale

In which we are rescued by a Bernie Fish (world’s best landlord 2015) and people are encountered who are strangely familiar but are also unable to carry off a tweed hat.

“Well if you don’t want a lift,” asks Bernie (landlord at the Loch Erisort Inn and also World’s Greatest Landlord 2015), “can I at least take your bags?”
” Are you sure it’s not out of the way for you?” I ask.
“Look the wife and I normally take a run out on a Monday and we might as well go to Tarbert as anywhere. It’s no problem at all.”
“Well if you’re sure then it would be great if you could take the panniers, but we are happy to pedal.”
“Look”, he says, a picture of concern, ” I’ll give you an hour’s head start and when I see you on the road I’ll stop and see how you are getting on.”

It’s a little over an hour later when Bernie passes us and we are struggling. The wind is right up at the promised 40+ knots and as the gusts are coming side on to us we keep having to stop. But as soon as Millie sees his car she is a ball of energy, up out of the seat for the first time that day to try and catch him lest he doesn’t stop for us…

Bernie Fish (World’s greatest landlord 2015) can fit 2 passengers and 2 bikes in his Discovery. So after a quick vote, in which only Suzy gets a vote, it is decided that I will pedal the rest of the 12 (largely uphill) miles and she will keep Millie company.

OK I won’t pretend. It’s brutal. The wind is so strong that I have to push 3 times. At one point I tried to take a picture of one of the snow poles they have along the roadside with my bike against it. But the wind blows my bike over. Then I have to chase my hat which fell out of my handlebar bag. Then the wind blows me over. But here’s a picture of the pole anyway.

Not only am I pedalling on some of the downhills but on a couple I’m descending speedway style, with one foot dragging on the ground so concerned am I that I’ll get blown over.
The arrangement had been to meet up in the Hebrides Hotel in Tarbert but when I get there it is closed! The attached bar is open but they know nothing of my family (although a group of customers tell me they passed me on the climb in their car, but inexplicably didn’t stop to help).
I finally find my bags in Tarbert’s greatest cafe, the First Fruits. It’s the same cafe where we met the taxi driver on Day 2 – and, after a brutal rejection from Tourist Information, it was Suzy’s next port of call when she was looking for a home for our panniers, and the owner cheerfully agreed to store them in the corner. The girls rejoin me shortly after and we do what I hope all cycle tourists do when arriving somewhere warm and welcoming – we immediately take off most of our clothes and spread them over his whole establishment.

“Any idea where we can go to spend a couple of hours before the ferry?” We ask him after lunch and 4 pots of tea.
“Have you been to the tweed shop?”
“Yeah.”
“There’s a library”.
Well it’s raining by this point so we wander out, unenthusiatically, towards the library only to bump into Family Morrice (Riderz members and coach) drawn like a moths to the flames towards our bikes, who are also on holiday on Lewis! (or possibly Harris). So we head back into the cafe to compare holiday stories and then follow them around Tarbert for a while because they look dry and warm and we want to learn their secret. (They were smart enough to bring a car and rent a cottage.)

20150413_144551[1] — Some wear tweed better than others!

We manage to get soaked again just waiting for the ferry so repeated our “taking over our enviroment” trick by dis-robing in, and then falling asleep on, the couches of the observation deck of the good ship MV Hebrides whilst waves crash over the windows…

The adventure is over we are back at the car in Uig on Skye, but it’s still a 5 hour plus drive home so we are having one more night away – staying in Woodbine House which happens to be operated by Andi Dunkel who rides for Team Skye (Cullin Wheels).

Probably the best B&B of the trip and one which definitely deserves it’s accolades. (Andi was also very tolerant when, going to bed a couple of hours after the girls, I couldn’t remember which room we were in – we’ve been in a few B&Bs this week). He didn’t seem quite as impressed by my ’12 miles of cycling in quite a stiff breeze’ as he could have been either, but then he’s doing the Arran iron man this summer so he might have different standards to me.

Day 6 Uig – The End – with a Map and Links

Epilogue

Two years ago I was telling another Riderz parent that we had been inspired by a holiday story of theirs’ to get the ferry to the Isle of Barra and cycle the Southern Western Isles. There was a brief pause whilst they composed their features before exclaiming, slightly incredulously “What at Easter? Isn’t that a bit early, you know with the weather?”

That year we were lucky, this year, less so, and the wind did make the trip a bit of a challenge at times and left us relying on the kindness of strangers. But we made it home and have decided that we definitely all enjoyed it and it’s not something we’ll quickly forget! Suzy reckons you can divide experiences into “Type I Fun” and “Type II Fun”. Type I fun is something you enjoy at the time, parties with friends, tasty meals. Type II fun is things you only enjoy in hindsight, hillwalking in the rain is Type II fun, so is camping as Suzy refuses to believe that anyone actually enjoys sleeping in fields. This holiday was Type II fun, but Type II fun is better, it’s harder won and thus tastes all the sweeter.

The Hebrides were gorgeous, we met some lovely people and stayed at some fascinating places. And this is the view we were greeted to in the morning at Woodbine House on Uig from our bedroom window just before we left.

The sight of a Calmac ferry leaving port always makes me wish I was on it, with just my family and our bikes…