Sand, sea, mud, sun, salt and rain. A fairly typical collection of things that could be expected of any summer outing in the Highlands and Islands. And in no particular order of course as the western seaboard of Scotland is well practiced at throwing all of these at you in close succession. Warmth and dryness must be earned in these parts.

It is on these terms that I headed north from Lancaster on Friday 30th June 2017. A mid-summer, three-part excursion loomed during the week ahead. The mountain bike was well loaded with new panniers as well as a handlebar bag from the Alpkit ‘rando’ bike luggage range. Crossing the streets of Glasgow in Friday rush hour, I met Rowan Jackson at Queen Street station for the long but familiar trundle to Mallaig on the West Highland Line. Rowan came well provisioned with some Scottish Ales for us to enjoy on board over a pre-packed picnic meal. At Mallaig, I had arranged the finest in overnight accommodation; the midge infested bog just-off the dog walking path at the back of the town. Practical, given the near midnight arrival and early morning sailing, but far from a glamorous staging point en-route to the isles.

Part 1: Rùm

On Saturday morning, we boarded the homely CalMac MV Loch Nevis for it’s 07:30 sailing. First stop Rùm. Given the bargain of the overnight accommodation, we indulged in the joys of a CalMac veggie breakfast whilst gliding across the Sound of Sleat towards Loch Scresort on Rùm. Arriving just over an hour later, we were greeted by rapidly deteriorating weather, with the cloud descending the Cuillin and drizzle pulsing through occasionally. After disembarkation, we hurried along to the Kinloch campsite in order to get the tents up in the relative dry.

Rùm is a fascinating island. Historically, geologically, ecologically and culturally. This small  island of little over 10 000 hectares presents formidable terrain that so typifies the Hebridean landscape. The Rùm Cuillin, rises to the lofty height of 812 m on Askival, and offers a most sporting ridge traverse, remarkable in similarity to that which goes by the same name but is far more frequented on the Isle of Skye. The largest of the Small Isles group, Rùm is the centrepiece of these islands of relative geological youth. The Cuillin itself is a remnant central volcanic complex of the UK’s Paloaeogene volcanic province. This represents the most recent (60 million years ago) period of volcanism in the British Isles, associated with the early formation and rifting of the North Atlantic. Similar volcanic process can today be found on Iceland. Any human inhabitation has been limited to the few segments of the island that could be classed as ‘lowlands’, mostly around a smattering of bays (much of the islands’ coast has towering cliffs). Rùm itself, along with it’s named places and mountains owe origin to Old Norse, although there is no evidence of any permanent settlement by the Vikings. For centuries the Highlands and Islands were plied by a series of rival clans, constantly at war with one another until the end of the Jacobite uprisings in 1745. This led to a population boom on Rùm, which at it’s peak in the eighteenth century, reached 443, mostly subsistence crofters living at Kinloch, Kilmory, Harris, Guirdil, Papadil and Dibidil. A series of wealthy landowners with grand sporting and grazing ambitions for the island led to serious depopulation, largely through emigration to Nova Scotia. The island today supports a modest population of around 40 people, with ownership having passed to Scottish Natural Heritage (formerly the Nature Conservancy) in 1957.

After a visit to the Kinloch village shop to stock up on supplies for the weekend, we set out on the bikes to explore the islands’ Landrover tracks. Firstly to the northernmost locality of Kilmory Bay. Site of Rùm’s only large expanse of sand (red, as it is sourced from the outcrop of Torridonian Sandstone on NE Rùm). We battled through a blustery squall and deposited the bikes trackside in order to make the last trudge over bog to the sands on foot. For the bracing paddle and wander along the sands, the sun showed its face through a rare patch of blue sky. Back up the track to the crossroads, we then turned south to complete a full north-south traverse and reach Harris. Overlooking the Atlantic, Harris is a bizarre but spectacular locality. There are extensive crofting remains, but also the most unexpected of features; a gothic mausoleum; burial ground for the wealthy Bullogh family, Rùm landowners from 1888-1957.

Sunday was our only ‘full day’ on Rùm. Unfortunately the unsettled weather pattern was still very much en-vigour. Our objective for the day was to reach Guirdil on the far-west of the island, possibly via the high ground of the Western Hills. Unfortunately, as we walked up out of Kinloch and across the moorland, the cloud level rapidly raced down to meet us just short of Beallach à Bhraigh Bhig. The thick fog precluded climbing any higher into the hills. So down the far side of the Beallach in thick cloud and drizzle, we wound our way along a relatively well trodden, historical hill path through Shielings and eerie rock formations of the Western Hills. Dropping down a stream gully exiting a small Lochan on the broad exposed saddle before Bloodstone Hill, we eventually popped out of the cloud at around 200 m. Guirdil and the island of Canna emerged below and across the water. At Guirdill, one of the croft houses has been rebuilt as a mountain bothy. A reasonably cosy but basic stone Blackhouse with the loft area boarded out as a sleeping platform. For the trudge back to the east, we followed the long and boggy path out via Glen Shellesder.

Overnight Sunday into Monday, the weather stabilised and on Monday morning Loch Scresort was bathing in July sunshine. With our ferry to Eigg at 15:10, there was enough time for a quick walk up to the first part of the Cuillin ridge. We started off up the well-formed hill path behind Kinloch Castle, rapidly obtaining the open moorland of Coire Dubh. Following the main-ridge route as far as Bealach Bairc-mheall we then turned west and summited the outlier peak of Barkeval with a full 360 degree view of the island. A Golden Eagle soared above whilst a small cluster of the islands’ mountain goat population posed on an appropriately heroic outcrop.

Part 2: Eigg

The MV Loch Nevis promptly dropped it’s long-reaching stern vehicle (and foot passenger) gangway onto it’s purpose built landing stage on Rùm and an hour later we were disembarking in an equally efficient manner at an identical facility on Eigg. The Loch Nevis and landing piers on the Small Isles were part-funded by an EU access to remote communities grant, and the facilities have transformed travel between Mallaig and the islands, which was previously a very tidal-dependent affair with most islands requiring disembarkation to a smaller, tender boat to reach the shore, particularly at low tide.

We were staying at the Glebe Barn, raised sixty metres or so above sea level on the islands’ east coast. The old stone building is a well provisioned hostel with fine views from the garden and conservatory from Knoydart to Ardnamurchan.

Eigg has a similar geological and human history to Rùm from the origin of it’s volcanic rocks through to the clearance of it’s once-extensive crofting community. However, in recent years, the island has undergone somewhat of a renaissance through the development of the Isle of Eigg Heritage Trust. This unique partnership of the island community, Highland Council and Scottish Wildlife Trust, purchased the whole island outright in 1997, the second example of a community land ownership in Scotland at the time. The population has since increased to just over 100. A wide range of community facilities have been built and most notably, the island has developed the Eigg Electric grid, sourcing power from wind, solar and hydro power sources.

On Monday evening, for Rowan’s final night on the islands, we wandered back down to the community hub of the island, the Galmisdale Bay cafe-bar for a most excellent veggie burger and pint from the Laig Bay Brewing Co. on Eigg whilst overlooking Muck and Ardnamurchan from the outdoor terrace.

Tuesday was another sunny one. We headed out across the island to the picture-postcard western beaches of Camas Sgiotaig (the Singing Sands) and Laig. It was low tide, giving access to the interesting formations of the wave-cut platform in the dinosaur fossil bearing Mesosoic limestones found at shore level. We returned to the pier at Galmisdale in time for Rowan to board the lunchtime boat off Eigg to Mallaig via Muck. In order to make the most of the sunshine, I had a quick lunch back up on the decking at Glebe Barn before riding back down to Galmisdale and taking out a sea kayak from Eigg Adventures. It was near enough to high tide, perfect for exploring the flooded inlets of Kildonan and Galmisdale Bays. In the 2 hour trip, I even managed to get up close to the boulder-strewn shoreline of Eileen Chathastail (small islet just off shore at Galmisdale) and the odd cormorant colony.

Wednesday was fine once again, but more unsettled weather was due from Thursday onwards. It was the opportune moment for a long-held ambition to explore the far-southwest of Eigg; the rough heather-strewn ground between Laig and An Sgùrr. I set out following a marked route through the mixed forestry and woodlands that dominate the prominent ‘notch’ or low point across the centre of the island. The ‘notch’ between the high ground of Beinn Bhuidhe (N) and An Sgùrr (S) is that which gives Eigg its name (Old Norse). The west coast is reached abruptly at a change in slope, or moreover an escarpment that runs almost full length of the island above the fertile, shallow shelf containing the rejuvenated crofting village of Cleadale. The cliff-face is formed of basaltic lava flows of the same palaeogene origin as the Rùm volcano and the prominent shelf is a raised beach of early post-glacial times of higher sea level. Passing down through the scarp to Laig farm, followed a fairly rapid, transverse re-ascent, taking a westerly trajectory along a mixture of indistinct hill and sheep paths. A point of historical interest is Poll Duchaill, a long grassed-over hill fort with a prominent position on a high promontory overlooking the Sound of Rùm. I continued now in a southwesterly direction over increasingly rough and pathless terrain until the summit of Beinn Tighe, 305 m was achieved. The effort expended was more akin with a far loftier height. At this point on the circuit I had reached the Eigg pitchstone lava formation, a hard, crystalline rock with column and pillow like texture. This would be followed, west to east as far as the island summit, An Sgùrr 393 m. The Eigg pitchstone was an extrusive lava flow of the palaeogene volcanic period. Interestingly, it initially came to rest infilling a valley floor. The sides of the valley, being formed of softer sediments and volcanic ash were subsequently eroded, leaving the feature exposed as a hard, linear ridge, standing proud and a distinctive feature on the Inner Hebridean skyline. After a fine trundle through spectacular rock scenery, with low points infilled with clear lochans, I dropped off the high ground and back to the Glebe Barn via the Isle of Eigg shop. Cloud cover had increased through the day, but the haziness did not preclude an early evening dip. Neoprene-clad from head to toe, I managed a good 15 minute splash down at Kildonan Bay, with my antics being observed astutely by three grey seals.

By Thursday morning, the weather had broken. A brisk westerly airflow had whipped up with low cloud (at times thick fog to sea level) and frequent rain. I took an easy morning at Glebe Barn before braving the elements on the bike and heading South. As a means of warm-up I took the bike for a spin along the rough track leading from Galmisdale, past the wind turbines spinning at a high rate, to the abandoned crofting village of Lower Grulin. This is a site of much enclosed land and former Blackhouse stone walls, now buried beneath the bracken standing at little over half a metre high. Turning around for a couple of kilometres and then downhill to the coast, I abandoned the bike at a cliff-top style in order to explore two caves located just around the point from Galmisdale. The tidal Cathedral Cave was first with it’s vast chamber, followed by the narrower but longer ‘Massacre Cave’. The story behind the latter is just as grim as it’s name suggests.

Later that day, I had a fascinating meeting at the school with the current headteacher of Eigg Primary. The weather was keen to stay equally as bad throughout the day and despite high expectations for an end of day clear spell, I finished the day with a blustery, misty and wet ride over to Cleadale where I dumped the bike once again at the track end and jogged over the fields for a final look at the Singing Sands. A group of sea kayakers were in and had setup camp on the grassy area above high tide.

Friday was my departure day for the mainland. The sun was trying it’s best to break through whilst I packed the gear out on the decking at Glebe Barn. I was soon aboard the Loch Nevis with it’s wonderful on board cafe-bar providing morning tea and scone to complement the swift passage to Mallaig.

Back on the mainland, the hustle and bustle of the seaside town of Mallaig was a stark contrast to the island days prior. Fish packing was in full swing on the harbourside with forklifts coming and going. Up at the station, The Jacobite steam train had arrived and disgorged it’s 6-carriage load of lunchtime visitors to the small town for a seaside delight of their choice to the background overture of ever-opportunistic gulls.

Part 3: Knoydart

After stocking up at Mallaig Coop for the final weekend of this 9-day epic, I headed back down to the harbour to board the much smaller, Western Isles Cruises vessel bound for Inverie on Knoydart. The crossing was a busy one, with several large groups quayside with large-quantities of luggage. All of this, including my bike was loaded down a precarious staircase onto a series of pallets on the bow of the ship. The MV Western Isles is timber-hulled with a small cabin, outdoor bench seats an appropriately located and well-stocked tea and whisky bar below deck level. Fully loaded, it chugged out of Mallaig, turning east around the point and into Loch Nevis.

The peninsula of Knoydart is identified as ‘one of the remotest’ in the UK. It is inaccessible by road with a series of high cols and rough mountains forming a formidable inland barrier and two long, deep sea lochs; Loch Nevis and Loch Hourn forming the southern and northern boundaries respectively. Similar to the islands, this is an area of crofting heritage and the usual history of landowners and tenants. Despite it’s relative inaccessibility, Inverie is a most civilised village complete with pub, Post Office, tea rooms and a range of accommodation. A vast swathe of the peninsula is now under community ownership through the Knoydart Foundation with ambitions for community and ecological development of the peninsula. A significant feature of the work of the Foundation is (re-)forestry. Inverie is backed by a large area of conifer plantation as well as smaller pockets of native mixed woodlands. Gradual felling of the plantation has brought an economic income for the area whilst re-stocking with a mixture of planting for the economy and planting for ecology forms part of the ongoing plan.

Arriving at Inverie pier some 45 minutes after Mallaig, the offloading procedure commenced via a similar staircase. Upon taking account of all my bike bags, I loaded up and cycled through the village and on to the Long Beach campsite. This is a basic facility owned by the Knoydart Foundation with a lovely turf-roof wood cabin for cooking and generally escaping the rain/midges and the most luxurious composting toilet ever seen! After striking camp, I re-loaded one pannier with some provisions and headed off on the bike back through the village and took the only metalled road on Knoydart; that which runs west from Inverie to the cluster of houses  and pier at Airor. The road climbs steeply out of Inverie Bay and winds its way across heather moorland with a grand outlook to the southwest over the Sound of Sleat to the peninsula of the same name on Skye. The outlines of Rùm and Eigg form the distant horizon.

After a comfortable night in the tent at the Long Beach campsite, it was an early start on Saturday in anticipation of a long mountain day. The objective was a high level circuit dominated by Ladhar Bheinn at 1020 m. The SMC North-West Highlands hillwalkers’ guide describes the southern slopes, the more accessible side of the mountain from Inverie, as grassy and less interesting than the various northern corries looming above Loch Hourn. And so defined my challenge! In order to get the most out of the mountain, I began the day with a 12 km walk-in via a series of Glens to reach the remote Coire Each on the northwestern face of the mountain. Initially, this was on good forest tracks leading away from Inverie and along Gleann Guiserein. The terrain soon became more unfrequented and the tracks gave way to some quality open hill hacking. The steep climbing began in Coire Each where the final 600 m of ascent was taken within just 2 km via steep rock and turf onto Stob a’ Choire Odhair, the north Top. From here a fine ridge separating Coire Each from Coire Dhorrcail lead to the summit of Ladhar Bheinn. I passed the first and only other summiting party of the day just below the summit; a group of young people on hillwalking day from the camp at Barrisdale Bay. They were out with a leader from the Loch Eil Outward Bound Centre on a 14-day mixed activity expedition. The summit was quite atmospheric, with the cloud just clipping and sometimes clinging to the leeward side of the spatula-like ridge of Ladhar Behinn. It was not a day for hanging around, so after a few obligatory photos, I headed off eastwards towards point 849 m on Aonoch Sgoilte ridge. The latter is a long crooked finger of a ridge that points in a southwesterly direction towards Inverie. A long and undulating downward traverse leads to the broad, peat filled col of Màm Suidheig just below 500 m before the ridge turns back uphill. An unwelcome heave on the leg muscles brought me to the final summit of the day, Sgùrr Coire Chòinniechean, immediately above Inverie Bay. The tent was a mere 779 m below. The final descent was steep and the thickening cloud started to produce some light drizzle. Unfortunately, the menu of the Old Forge pub at Inverie was well outside of my budget (luckily I had checked it online in advance so had sufficient supplies for the whole weekend) and so I settled in at Long Beach for an evening of cooking, resting and well-earned tea drinking in the tent.

Grand Finale: From Knoydart to Lancaster

The Western Isles Cruises timetable is well matched to that of the West Highland Line. Even on a Sunday, there is an early boat from Inverie to meet the 10:10 Mallaig train departure south to Glasgow. It meant another early rise and shine at Long Beach. The overnight deluge had eased at around 05:00, leaving a damp, misty and still atmosphere. Ideal midge conditions. Until this point in the trip, the sea breeze had generally kept the worst of the Scottish midges at bay, but during the Sunday morning pack-up, they were out in force. In anticipation of my exit from the tent, a thick black cloud had prepared themselves on the other side of the fly screen. Covered head to toe, and the bags largely packed and ready I made a short and swift exit on the bike to the relative safety of the pier.

The boat ride back to Mallaig was a fitting end to the trip with the sun breaking through here and there. On the weekend, the smaller but faster outboard motor boat of Western Isles Cruise plies the Inverie route. This makes short work of the crossing and I was soon loading my luggage for the short ride from pier to platform at Mallaig with 15 minutes to spare. The train pulled out on time and clattered it’s way past the Silver Sands of Morar and Arisaig before turning inland toward rapidly deteriorating weather at Lochailort. For most of the journey south to Glasgow, the hills were cloaked in cloud as the fully-loaded sprinter train wound its way southward and rain pattered on the windows.

The trip had been epic, in all senses. 9-days of the very best of Scottish summer sunshine, rain, wind, sand and salt in this spectacular yet modest Hebridean maritime landscape.

Head north over Drumochter and Slochd summit’s, keep going. Cross the Kessock Bridge and the Black Isle, keep going. Wind your way along the course of the Black Water and the high moorland between the Fannich Forest and Ben Dearg Massif, keep on going. To the north of the small highland town of Ullapool lies a most unexpected yet spectacular region of coastal mountains. This is the Far North Highland region of Coigach and Assynt; a platform-like moorland of 1800 million year old Lewissian Gneiss with isolated, heavily sculpted peaks of 800 million year old Torridonian Sandstone standing proud across the landscape like grand ocean liners of the high seas.

After my early-April Alpine trip, Imogen and I headed north by road for the Easter weekend. On day-1, we (as in Imogen) drove to Loch Morlich in the Cairngorms to break the long 666 km journey to the NW Highlands. Arriving early-evening, we loaded our rucksacks and wound our way up forest tracks leading past the Rothimurchus lodge and ultimately onto a hill path leading to the Lairig Ghru. It was a rather cool evening with showers looming, so we stopped off for the night on a relatively level grassy shelf among the sea of deep heather just short of the Chalamain Gap path junction. Next morning, the cool showers had brought a fresh dusting of snow to the hills down to around 900 m. Leaving the tent, we meandered up to the Larig-Ghru Pass, enjoyed the view down through the Pools of Dee and on to the remote peaks of Sgor an Lochain Uaine, Cairn Toul and the Devil’s Point.

Returning via the same route to collect the tent, we continued the journey north after a late-lunch.

Our first objective was the beach campsite at the small highland community of Clachtoll. After Inverness, the excitement loomed as we set out across the Beauty Forth and wound our way up through the grand scenery along the Black Water River. North of Ullapool, we turned a corner in the A835 at Ardmair and were faced with the vast south wall of Ben More Coigach with it’s sheer sandstone turrets, towering right out of Loch Kanaird. For the next 50 km, the A835 follows the axis of the Moine Thrust, the epic earth movement of Caledonian Orogeny vintage that shunted younger Moinian rocks upwards and northwestwards over the older Lewisian and Torridonian age rocks of Coigach & Assynt.

Arriving at Clachtoll, I was reminded that we were back in springtime Scotland and the air temperature was a biting 8°C or so with a brisk northwesterly coming in off the North Atlantic, the thermal leggings went on, and stayed on! The campsite is very well served with an excellent toilet and shower block. Happily fed and watered, we explored the intricate rocky platforms and bays for sunset.

Day-2 continued with the showery north-westerlies. In the morning, we drove north around to Clashnessie beach, with an interesting little waterfall tumbling over a raised cliff line of the former late-glacial coastline. The interior of the area perfectly characterises the ‘Lewisian’ landscape, gradually undulating heather-clad moors, intertwined with hundreds of lochans. Next stop… tea and cake. We carried on for a further 15 mins for the lovely garden tearooms at Drumbeg. A good pit stop and well timed during a brief period of sunshine. Retracing our route from Drumveg, we turned off the ‘main’ Kylesku to Lochinver road (all roads leading away from the arterial A road following the Moine thrust are single track with passing places) to explore the headland of Stoer from it’s lighthouse. Here the lofty sandstone cliffs can be followed to the spectacular Point of Stoer and sea-stack that goes by the name of the Old Man of Stoer.

After a second night on the Clachtoll beach campsite, we packed up and took a leisurely drive south. First stop, Achmelvich. A wonderful spot with perfect white-sand coves and crystal clear waters. The sun came out just in time for our explore, complete with a bracing paddle, April after all is pretty much the month of the year with the coldest annual sea temperatures in Scotland.

Passing Lochinver, we continued to the sandstone-dominated peninsula of Rubha Mòr. The large red-sand beach at Achnahaird offers a grandiose outlook across the whole region; north along the coast to Point of Stoer, with the mountain panorama inland stretching from Quinag through Suilven, Stac Pollaidh and the massif of Ben Mor Coigeach.

Our next caping spot was at the village of Altandhu just along the coast from Achiltibuie. It’s another excellent campsite, provisioned with a heated toilet block and owned by the Fuaran Bar located just across the road offering home cooked pub food at very reasonable prices. A good find!

Well timed around the weather forecast, day-4 was our mountain day. With an early start, we trundled all the way along the Achiltibuidhe road all the way to the end of the road and scattering of croft houses at Culnacraig. Our objective for the day was a full traverse of the peaks that form Ben More Coigach. Starting out, we ascended the sandstone terraces that form the rampart-like SW-ridge of the mountain, with a fantastic outlook to Lewis and the hills of Harris. The Ullapool-Stornaway CalMac ferry was dwarfed in the landscape of hills, lochs and open ocean as it slipped out of Loch Broom and across the Minch. A brief lunchtime deterioration in the weather brought low cloud, and a squally snow shower. Well timed for some quality navigation practice on the high plateau. It soon cleared through to full sunshine once again for completion of the full horseshoe.

On Tuesday, it was time for the long-haul south to Lancaster; all 666 km in one day. We took it leisurely with stops in Ullapool, Aviemore, Perth and Lesmahagow. With Imogen at the wheel all the way, all that was required of me was to relax, enjoy the scenery and daydream of our next excursion to this rugged extremity of the Highlands.

With a blink of the eye you’d be forgiven if you missed winter this year in Europe. It’s been an mild and for the most part incredibly dry one. The highlands of Scotland barely saw a snowflake until well into February and snow cover across the Alps was often patchy. An isolated dump in early November got snow seekers excited as the webcams suddenly turned white, but it was not the sign of things to come unfortunately. Ironically, writing this in early May, a cold, damp parcel of air hit the Haute-Savoie just last week with snow back down to around 900 m. Whilst spring was already well-established in the valleys and beyond, this was an albeit brief throwback to the all too sporadic  ‘what should have been‘ of the season just gone.

I decided upon a late-season snowshoe trip this year. Rooftops and pine boughs laden with fresh white powder and blazing trail through 50 cm of fresh was certainly not part of the vision for this trip. Moreover, it was an opportunity to explore the Alpine snowpack in springtime and get higher into the mountains than is possible earlier in the season when the avalanche hazard is prohibitavely high. It was to be more of a sprintime walking and snowshoeing combination trip.

Joined this time by Lindsey and Steve at St. Pancras International, we headed for the lovely little village of Les-Contamines-Montjoie. The journey down included an overnight stop in a budget hotel near the Gare de Lyon. Before midday on a sunny 2nd April Sunday, our direct TGV from Paris had deposited us at the Arve valley town of Saint-Gervais-les-Bains-le-Fayet, just a short bus journey from Les-Contamines in the Val-Montjoie. The valley is traversed by by the GR5 and GR Tour du Mont Blanc en-route from the Col de Voza to the Col du Bonhomme and thus is familiar territory for many a summer trekker. The valley has only been modestly developed for skiing, in and around the Col du Joly, but this is complemented by ski de fond in the valley at the right time of year.

According to the meteo-france avalanche forecast, the previous precipitation event of any significance in the area had been more than three-weeks prior to our arrival. Warm temperatures thereafter had resulted in a reatreat of the snowline to 1500 m on north facing aspects and anywhere between 1800 and 2500 m on south facing, depending on angle of slope. These conditions determined that there would be a lot of walking on the summer paths, snowshoes on packs before any significant depth of cover could be found.

Despite the lean conditions, we had some great days out, mostly in fine, sunny weather. On day one, we completed a grand circuit to the NE of Les Contamines, up through the woods to the little summit of Mont Truc 1811 m, spectacularly positioned looking over to the West face of the Domes de Miage, and down via the idyllic Chalets de Miage and the Gorges de la Gruvas to the valley.

After having observed the relatively good remaining snowpack on the ideal nordic-type terrain of the Envers du Truc the day before, on Day 2, we were back out in a similar area, but on snowshoes in a relatively sugary, wet but deep snowpack due to the northerly aspect.

For Wednesday, we headed South and up the valley of the Bon Nant to the Notre Dame de la Gorge. This is the start of the long climb up to the Col du Bonnehomme for the GR5/TMB. It started a little overcast and cool but by the time we reached the Chalet Nant Borrant, the clouds were breaking and sun pushing through. Pushing on up to Refuge La Balme 1706 m for lunch, we then ascended a moraine ridge in the warmth to the spectacular shelf-like Paturages de la Balme for some wonderful open snowshoeing terrain with towering mountains all around.

Day 4 was another one of wall to wall sunshine, but the cool of the morning was welcome for the long uphill haul out of the valley on the GR5/TMB heading NE towards Col de Voza. We detoured from the GR’s however and took a more interesting zig-zag path from the Pont des Places up through mixed forest, emerging at the far less than glamerous pisted area of Les-Houches at the Hotel Bellevue. The view of the Chamonix valley to the east and the Aravis to the west from this spot makes up for the conspicuous development. We headed partway up the steep NW ridge of Mont-Lachat to find a tranquil lunch spot before making a long descent via Col de Voza, Le Crozet and le Champel down to the D 902 road right down in the valley where we managed to hitch a ride back up to Les-Contamines after the non-arrival of the bus.

The final days’ excursion back up from Notre-Dame de la Gorge but via a smaller winding route up the steep, forest-clad eastern side of the valley through some lovely little clearings to the Refuge de Tré la Tête. The route up was largely snow free and the refuge open for tea, beer, chocolate bars etc. It is located on a popular ski touring route into the Glacier de Tré la Tête basin and commands a wondeful position on a prominent flat section of the otherwise sheer ridgline leading up to the Domes de Miage.

After 5 full-on days exploring the valley we were ready for a good rest. Each day had amounted to 15 km or more with an altitude profile of +/- 1000 m, sometimes with a bit of snowshoeing on a dense, thawing snowpack. Hard work indeed. The valley ‘ski bus’ or navette system had been very useful (and free of charge) in helping to cut out some otherwise long and unwelcome tarmac trudges at the start and end of the day.

We headed out of the mountains to Geneva and 20 degree (or more) heat! With the much anticipated CEVA (Cornavin-Eaux-Vives-Annemasse), Geneva crossrail not yet complete we had to load onto a rather packed city bus from Annemasse. After dropping all the heavy gear at our airbnb appartment we were able to enjoy an afternoon stroll around the Lac Léman shoreline to the ‘Jet d’eau’ and a look at the streets of the old town on the south bank of the Rhône. Sunday was a very straightforward journey back via TGV Lyria and the Haut-Bugey line into a warm and blossoming Paris where we spent a few hours awaiting the booked Eurostar in the Jardin des Plantes. Lancaster was comfortably reached by late evening.

April is great month of the year to be walking in the Alps, particularly if you don’t like the heat of high-summer. Most of the walking trails were empty and the wildlife was certainly reacting to the rising temperatures and also easier to spot with the vegetation having not quite yet had the same spring into life and leaf. A few early season Alpine flowers were making the most of the sunshine, particularly in places that in just over a month’s time would be shaded by dense leaf canopy.

Great Britain and Ireland, along with over 6000 smaller but not insignificant islands make up the British Isles; over the last three months, somewhat unintentionally I’ve managed to find myself visiting 4 out of the 5 Capital Cities that make up the nations of these islands… even if some of the visits were somewhat on the brief side…

It’s been a very different winter this year, not least for me having had 6 weeks of the (southern hemisphere) summer sandwiched by what has mostly been a relatively calm and mild period weather-wise. A stark contrast to the storm-punctuated winter of 2015-16. I’ve had some great excursions in the mountains, from Scotland to France (the Lake District in between). Updates and photos to follow. As for New Zealand, that trip certainly falls into the ‘epic’ category. The photographs are sorted and over the summer I’ll be preparing a longer format dossier that will complement the forthcoming ‘Aotearoa; Journeys into the Long White Cloud’ talk that will be out and about at various venues from next winter.

After our long travels to, around and back from the upside-down world, we landed back into a very bare and sepia-toned England on a clear, sunny winters’ 17th January. Heathrow was very much as we had left it weather-wise on 1st December, our Singapore Airlines A380 even deposited us at the exact same gate from whence we set-off.

After a short period of settling back in, I had the next outing of the ‘Treading Lightly’ talk at the Chester Globetrotters Club on Saturday 21st January. A lovely group and historic venue at the Grosvenor Museum. After the talk, the group re-convened in the ‘Golden Eagle’ pub just around the corner. Very appropriate choice given the prominence of the Scottish Highlands in ‘Treading Lightly’.

For our second weekend back in the UK, Imogen and I enjoyed a long-weekend in the West Higlands. Firstly on the Mamore mountains near Fort William with Lorna and Sam and then onwards to our wedding location, Glenuig. We were joined by the Fisher family for a cosy, wintery weekend in a lochside cottage. I returned south overnight on the Caledonian Sleeper, giving me a tick for the Scottish Capital. By far the briefest visit of all, this consisted only of the dreary wander along the platform, compulsorary for Fort William ‘seated’ carriage passengers whilst the most interesting shunting operation remaining on Britain’s passenger railways unfolds. The Aberdeen, Fort William and Inverness portions are joined together, whilst the Fort William seated carriage is left behind at Waverley station. It’s passengers, I being the sole represenative on that dark January night, are required to move into the Inverness or Aberdeen seated carriages.

Early in February, in the midst of Six Nations rugby season I made a belated-New Year trip to Cardiff. The new Axe family house is now complete and it was a great catchup with the family and dogs with the usual range of local walks on Garth Hill frequented over the weekend.

Next up on the Capitals tour was Dublin in late-Feb. Completely unplanned and unexpected. I applied to join an Education for Sustainable Development training conference with UNESCO and was delighted to be selected to attend. Given the focus on sustainability, and the bargin that RailSail deals on the Irish Sea provide, there was no-chance of me flying over. I set off, Bromton under the arm for Holyhead and a blustery crossing on the Dublin Swift. The ride into Dublin City Centre was flat and fast(-er than the bus connection almost certainly). Luckily there was a handy tailwind pushing me along too. The conference took place at the Irish Departent of Education and I managed to see lots of the landmark sites either side of the Liffey River, mostly in the darkness of early morning or the evening. Even stronger winds on my return cancelled the Dublin Swift which meant I couldn’t join a final day excursion to the North Bull Island UNESCO Biosphere. Instead I boarded the trusty superferry Ulysees for the longer crossing to Holyhead and waved at my colleagues on the field trip as the ferry pushed out into the strong gale and rough seas from Dublin Bay .

To complete this mini-tour, I spent the first week in March in London. ‘Treading Lightly’ had two outings in the Capital. Firstly, at the friendly little ‘Hand and Shears’ Travel Group, based in an upstairs room at the King’s Head pub near Marylebone Station. This was a group that I’d been introduced to by Nick Crane. This was an evening talk on the first day of meteorological spring (March 1st). A very welcoming and interesting group and I look forward to visiting again next year. I based myself at St. Mary’s University, Twickenham for a few days, staying with Rowan. The following Saturday, it was back up to London town for another rendition of ‘Treading Lightly’ with the Globetrotters Club, this time with the London Branch. The meetings are based in the Church of Scotland Hall near Covent Garden. Again a very friendly and vibrant group and a packed audience made for a fanstastic reception. As with the Chester group, we re-grouped in a nearby pub after the three afternoon talks. I’m pleased to now have the Globetrotters annual calendar on my desk at work and be a card-carrying member of the travel club for independent travellers and travel enthusiasts of all ages that I was introduced to by the President John Pilkington.

The winter ‘talks’ season has now drawn to a close and the longer daylight hours has signalled more time outside than in. I’ve had some great excursions over the Easter period, but I’ll leave those for next time.

Imogen and I are big Hebridean fans. These small, rugged, windswept isles protrude from the North Atlantic off Scotland’s West Coast, forming a fascinating archipelago that could easily provide a lifetimes worth of exploring from a yacht or via the simple but intrepid means of walking their varied coastline and hills. Scotland’s 6000 mile coast represents some 69% of the UK total, much of this distance is lapped up by the circumference of the hundreds of isles and islets of this majestic Celtic land. But what should constitute an ‘official island’?; inhabitation?; access by regular passenger vessel?; a certain land-area threshold? This is a question upon which I often ponder, after all, our seven global continents surely find themselves surrounded by the vast ocean covering over 70% of the surface area of the Earth. This statistic reminds us of the supremacy of the seas over land, something to which we should perhaps pay more critical attention to in these times of ecosystem collapse and multiple environmental crises. Hamish Haswell-Smith, in his book ‘The Scottish Islands’ settles upon a figure of 162 ‘official’ Scottish islands. Ever the seeker of such categorisations, I first made acquaintance with this book in the Knoydart Pottery and Tearoom, Inverie, after a Munro bagging expedition on the Knoydart peninsula in 2011. Immediately absorbed by the beautiful maps and sketches, Haswell-Smith was soon crowned as my Munro of the Scottish marine world and copy earned itself a place on my bookshelf.

Anyway, on to our Hebridean honeymoon. On Monday 25th April 2016, after our most wondrous wedding weekend in the small village of Glenuig by Lochailort, Imogen and I set out with Lindsey and Liz for Fort William. After relatively benign springtime weather the week prior, overnight the weather had swung round to a brisk northerly flow, with a wintery feel on the wind that would only become amplified throughout the week ahead! We had an emotional departure on the CityLink bus from the less than inspiring Fort William bus station for the 1.5 hour trundle down the coast road to Oban. The wedding weekend had just been everything we ever hoped for and now it was just the two of us, setting out to the far western frontier of the UK.

Oban is one of the major departure ports for the Hebrides, with the majestic black, white and red funnelled vessels of the Caledonian MacBrayne Steam Packet Company (or CalMac Ferries these days). The busy port of Oban serves no-fewer than eight of the isles. Our vessel was the 13:40 departure for Castlebay (Barra), served by the MV Isle of Lewis. The Oban-Castlebay route is the longest ferry route on the West Coast with a journey time of just under 5 hours. For the first couple of hours, the vessel plies the fjord-like Sound of Mull, with the spectacular mountains of Morvern and Ardnamurchan to the north and the Isle of Mull to the South. After Ardnamurchan Point, the vessel jettisons out on a north-westerly trajectory into the open Sea of the Hebrides. The flat isles of Coll and Tiree are visible to the South, whilst the rugged Small Isles and jagged Cuillin of Skye form the northern skyline. At first, the Isle of Barra is barely visible but it’s mound-like profile gradually becomes more apparent way ahead of the bow. The Minch gives a real feel of open ocean, with gannets gliding with the vessel and shearwaters and petrels fluttering by close to the water. Despite the strong wind, the sea state was only moderately rough for our crossing.

The Isle of Barra / Eilean Bharraigh

Our first stop, for two nights was the Dunard hostel in Castlebay. Barra is one of the smaller, more compact of the Western Isles, with most of the habitation following the island ring-road. The centre is rough heather moorland, with a collection of interesting looking hills; Heabhal 383 m, with its unexpected ‘Madonna’ statue lurking on the southern slopes above Castlebay, Hartabhal 356 m and Beinn Tangabhal 332 m being some of the highest. The influence of the Old Norse in the names of geographical features and place names is a strong feature of life on the Hebrides. Given our limited time on the island, we opted to save the hill bagging for a future visit. After a fresh evening stroll around Castlebay on Monday with all the layers, hats and gloves piled on, we settled in for the night at the hostel. Tuesday was our only full-day to explore Barra. Firstly we set out on the clockwise bus around the island as far Borve on the West. From here, we followed the coast and had our first of many sand blasting experiences on the windswept Bāgh Halaman (bay) before continuing back to Castlebay for lunch in the relative shelter of the hostel. The Hebrides have mostly excellent, affordable bus services, coordinated centrally by the Western Isles Council. Local transport exactly as it should be. A shame this is not the case in most other parts of the rural Britain! For the afternoon, we caught another bus out from Castlebay, across the causeway leading to the Isle of Vatersay. This small hamlet located at the southern end of a narrow isthmus between two spectacular sandy bays gives a real impression of the land that time forgot. The painted wooden panel houses, add a Nordic feel to this remote outpost; the southernmost inhabited place of the Outer Hebrides. We had several hours before the last bus of the day so took a stroll up towards the nearby Dun (burial ground) followed by a traverse of the western Bāgh Siar. Despite the unrelenting NW gale, we were optimistic that the extreme north end of the east facing Bāgh Bhatarsaigh (Vatersay Bay), tucked below the high ground of Heiseabhal Mōr would provide sufficient shelter from the northerly onslaught to enjoy the April sunshine. This proved correct, and also presented an opportune moment for the first of only two successful entries to the sea that we managed on our trip! It was a perfect, albeit very brief dip into the clear waters fully wet-suited up from head to toe of course. On Tuesday evening, we visited the Cafe Kismul down on the harbourside back in Castlebay for a curry; the only cafe serving Indian cuisine in the Western Isles perhaps?

Wednesday morning, we were on the Barra clockwise bus again, heading for the ferry slipway at Aird Mhor. The bathtub-like CalMac ferry across the Sound of Barra shuttled us across to Eriskay, with great views of all the islets as well as the large expanse of sand of Tràigh Mhòr on Barra, famed as the only airport in the UK featuring a beach as the runway. A Flybe twin-otter was stationed ‘on the sand’, resting between runs to Glasgow.

The Isle of Eriskay / Eiriosgaigh

The next five islands, Eriskay, South Uist, Benbecula, North Uist and Berneray constitute, under the Haswell-Smith classification, one contiguous island-by-definition. This is due to the construction over the years of a series of causeways, providing ‘dry links’ between them all. It’s just as well, as a period of time studying the Ordnance Survey maps of these islands reveals as much fresh and salt water as land. Indeed, it’s incredibly difficult to the segments of land that are attached or indeed detached. Our time on Eriskay amounted to little more than an hour or so awaiting the onward bus connection North. It was around lunchtime, so we took up a draughty but well positioned bench on the picturesque sands next to the quay. We were soon in transit again, in a very modern, comfortable and warm minibus, zipping across the long causeway leading to South Uist.

South Uist / Uist a Deas

Generally speaking, the Uists are characterised by long sandy beaches with dunes, backed by flat machair grassland on their western (Atlantic) sides and rockier uplands on their eastern (Minch) sides, incised by multiple sea and fresh-water lochs. South Uist fits this characteristic most conformably, with most of the human settlements lying along the spine road that largely traverses the fertile machair of the west. The ‘town’ of Lochboisdale makes exception to this, and adds a significant little detour onto the bus journey northwards. As with many of the larger Hebridean settlements, Lochboisdale is a rather spread out and mismatched assortment of lochside buildings serving the various island needs, having originally built up around herring fishing. A daily CalMac ferry now links the Lochaber port of Mallaig with Lochboisdale. Back on the main spine, our destination of the day was the hamlet of Tobha Mor or Howmore. This one-night stop featured our first stay in one of the hostels managed by the Gatliff Hebridean Trust. The hostel at Howmore is a quaint Hebridean blackhouse with thick stone walls and a thatched roof. After claiming beds at the hostel (not really required as there was only one other person in), we set off to local hill, Hatharsal (a lofty 139 m) with trig point view towards the high hills and glens surrounding Beinn Mhor and also the Loch Druidibeag National Nature Reserve. Aside the view, we also spotted a Golden Eagle soaring at a fair distance but the distinctive white patches on the wing undersides were just visible. After cooking a rather rationed meal of consisting of hostel leftover pasta with a makeshift tomato and cheese sauce (due to being fairly low on supplies), we headed off to the open sands of Bun na Feathlach for a windswept evening jaunt. Showers coming in off the sea had turned the high hills white with snow and there was a strong stench of rotting seaweed on the wind.

Benbecula /  Beinn na Faoghla

Next morning was the coldest of the whole trip. The cool airflow had brought a light dusting of snow overnight down to sea level and the high hills of South Uist were in winter raiment. We were headed north again, but not this time by bus. We wandered back up to the junction where the Howmore lane meets with the Uist main spine A-road (that super-Hebridean highway which is often single track with passing places :-). We were picking up bikes for two days from a cycle hire shop. After half an hour getting fitted out with bikes, helmets, panniers and locks we pedalled back to the hostel to load our gear before setting out northwards. There was not much of South Uist left before the causeway and indeed, much of northern S.Uist consists of water; the Lochs of Druidibeag and Bi are both traversed via embankment and causeway. Our last stop on S.Uist was a little roadside supermarket at Carnan, where we stopped for a much needed chocolate boost.

The next causeway led to Benbecula, and our first stop was indeed, another supermarket. An important part of a cycle tour being, of course, a tour of the supermarkets of an area. A well stocked Coop at Creagorry enabled us to stock up on all manner of luxuries for the forthcoming overnight stop at Baile nan Cailleach. This named place sits on the southern edge of another of the larger Hebridean towns, Balivanich. The small cluster of buildings at Baile nan Cailleach are largely sheltered from the Atlantic by a high dune system behind the lovely sandy beach of Culla. Balivanich, however has all manner of facilities; a Bank of Scotland, Hospital, large supermarket and even another of the Hebridean airports. The town’s population has built up around a military base. The island of Benbecula was yet another one night stop on our northward voyage and we were staying in Nunton House hostel, a lovely, recently refurbished stone farm house with incredibly comfortable beds. In fact, it felt more like a holiday property than a hostel, particularly given that we had the run of the place to ourselves. It also has a great library and I lost myself in a book about the remote island of St Kilda for an hour or so. To follow the trend of the prior night, we once again headed out for a sunset-time wander along the beach and dunes. The only thing lacking so far was the sunset itself; the frequent cloud banks rolling in on the brisk norwester had thus far blocked our view of the sun hitting the Atlantic horizon. The deep hues of purple and the odd shaft of sunlight through the cloud made for an equally majestic setting though.

It was now Friday 29th April and we were saddled up and off northbound once again, into another strong headwind. After winding through Balivanich and around the extensive Benbecula airfield, we were well on the way to the next long causeway, leading across the vast tidal flats leading to North Uist. Of course, it wouldn’t be the Uists without several other islands and islets being spanned in the process (the flat, wet but habited Grimsay is just clipped by the spine road whilst the uninhabited but undulating Ronay lies off to the east).

North Uist / Uibhist a Tuath

Next up, North Uist. Our visit was relatively short, although the passage through presented us with three options; the eastern A-road via the town of Lochmaddy, the western A-road generally following the coast and linking multiple crofting hamlets or a short-cut across the centre of the island on a lane named ‘Committee Road’ that gently climbs up and over the bleak moorland of Maireabhal before dropping back to the coast at the lovely tidal bay of Trāigh Bhālaigh. As our island destination for the day sat across yet another causeway to the north and the headwind was ever prevalent, we opted for the most direct route, albeit with the moderate climb. The moorland would at least provide for a variety in the terrain after many kilometres of coastal farmland along the southern end of the island. At the interestingly named Claddach Kirkibost, the community centre provided an opportunity for a brief stop. It was a shame that we had already had lunch as we missed out on the cafe. The climb up to the grand summit of 43 m above datum was soon accomplished and provided our final view southwards, along the rocky spine of Uists to the rounded hills of Barra off in the distance. Looking beyond the 3 km freewheel ahead was the open blue sea of the Atlantic, and our first view of the hills of Harris. Within a wee while, we joined the coastal A-road once again whilst skirting the picturesque Trāigh Bhālaigh. After passing an aptly positioned Hebridean blackhouse, providing a perfect photo opportunity with the white sands of the tidal bay and island of Vallay beyond, we reached the hamlet of Sollas complete with another convenient Cooperative Food shop. With our panniers re-stocked with supplies and our leg muscles replenished with chocolate, it was onwards and north-eastwards. The road to Berneray was sneakily undulating for a coastal road, skirting several heather clad-knolls and crossing many burns draining the inland lochs. The final point of interest on North Uist was Dūn an Sticir near Port nan Long, just short of the Berneray causeway. The Dūn is a circular fortified habitation, a common feature of the historic Celtic landscape. The Hebridean Dūn are commonly found on small manmade islands within lakes and the ruins of Dūn an Sticir fall perfectly into the description. A short rocky causeway leads out to the island that once housed the fort.

Berneray / Bernera

There are two islands that go by the name of Berneray in the Hebrides; one forming the southernmost, yet uninhabited island in the chain; the other jutting out from North Uist into the Sound of Harris. It was the latter that provided the end of the road for our hire bikes from Howmore (S.Uist). Our one-night stop on Berneray was at the Gatliff hostel, superbly located on the end of a promontory with views across to Harris and Skye. It was a busy scene at the hostel, as a voluntary work party was in residence. The mortared blackhouse walls were shining a brilliant fresh coat of white paint against the deep blue of the sea and sky beyond. The work party were a friendly bunch and provided me with a glass of red wine to accompany our evening meal. The only downside of our base for the night was its distance from the Berneray ferry slip, itself 4 km back along the road at the causeway. Whilst this seemed insignificant relative to the 55 kilometres of Friday’s cycling, it presented a less welcome 45 minute early morning tarmac trudge for Saturday’s 07:15 CalMac ferry departure northward across the sound.

Harris / Na Hearadh

Technically not the Isle of Harris, but often called as such, Harris certainly presents the most undulating of terrain on the Western Isles. Harris was perhaps the most anticipated of the Hebridean Isles for me, as I’d heard great things and seen wonderful photographs of pure white sands backed by high hills fluted with deep glens. It certainly did not disappoint. The crossing from Berneray landed us at Leverburgh, the port and village located at the extreme South of the island. Leverburgh is also the port for tourist boats heading to the isolated and majestic island of St Kilda, some 50 km further West out into the wild north Atlantic. Upon arrival in Leverburgh, the onward bus for the town of Tarbert was ready and waiting at the top of the slip. It was wild, windy and cool so we boarded onto the warmth of the smart new minibus right away. From Leverburgh, two roads lead north to Tarbert, traversing the west and east coasts, before merging once again at a narrow isthmus that houses the loch’s and town that go by the name of Tarbert. Our bus took the western coast via Northton and Seilibost with views of their respective vast expanses of Hebridean white sand. We found ourselves in Tarbert not long after 09:00 although it felt much later given the hour at which we had set off from the Gatliff hostel on Berneray.

We had a hostel in Tarbert for the night and were able to check-in early and drop much of the heavy gear. Despite being the main ‘town’ on Harris, Tarbert is little more than a cluster of a few shops a small tourist office and a few obligatory Harris Tweed outlets. We had struck a deal in advance to hire some bikes for the day. The hire shop was not your average bike hire outlet with all the latest in cycling gadgetary. It consisted of what seemed to be an old hardware store last decorated in the 1950’s, now gutted with a jumbled fleet of tatty old Halfords mountain bikes propped up around the interior. A range of other bike bits and bobs; a cobweb-bound helmet or two, lone spanner set or random collection of bike lights lay around on windowsills littered with flakes of peeled paint. The custodian was a very welcoming lifelong Harris resident, of course very appropriately tweed-clad, who had opened up especially for us (we were early for the tourist season after all). After trying several bike and helmet combinations we settled on our steeds for the day and were soon pedalling off uphill and out of Tarbert, battling into the all too familiar headwind that had characterised the trip. Our original aim had been to follow the winding road west along Loch a Siar to the picturesque hamlet of Huisinish. A mere 15 km in a direct line from Tarbert, this quantity of kilometres of course does not do justice to the formidable, undulating and incised nature of the section of coast along which this small road runs. All things combined, it was clear from an early point in the day that reaching the magical Huisinish might have to be reserved for a future visit with some combination of less headwind, more suitably geared bikes or even mechanised transport (the bus doesn’t run along to Huisinish on a weekend). Even so, we had a lovely bike ride and made several stiff ascents followed by long and winding freewheels. En-route we passed the derelict Hebridean whaling station of Bunavoneader, active in the first half of the twentieth century, a sobering reminder of the brutal cetacean slaughtering that once characterised these shores. Next up there was probably the most windswept tennis court in the British Isles, Imogen having the claim of having played tennis there on a former visit. Beyond this is the deep incision to the Harris Hills of Glean Mhiabhaig, on land managed by the North Harris Trust. To the north tower the great peaks of An Cliseam (at 799 m, the highest mountain on the Outer Hebrides) and it’s relatives. A stalkers track leads off northwards through the great glacial cleft to a reliable Golden Eagle nest viewing site. Onward and upward again, we passed the now-closed primary school at Cliasmol, formerly the ‘smallest school in Scotland’. What a place to spend the first 7 years of your school career, perched proudly on a heather clad promontory with the most glorious of western vistas out towards the sound … with its multiple islands. Shortly beyond this point, we abandoned the bikes in a roadside ditch and scrambled up to a prominent lookout for lunch (using the lee of a boulder for shelter). We made this our turnaround point. Having expended quite enough energy battling into the wind, we could now look forward to it assisting, somewhat, our return pedal to Tarbert. It certainly seemed quicker on the way back.

After a comfortable night in the Tarbert Backpackers hostel, with yet another dormitory to ourselves, we headed out early on Sunday morning, this time on foot. Sundays in the Hebrides are very much still a day of rest, the Sabbath is still widely observed and most shops and services don’t operate. This was not a problem for us as we would be spending the day walking over the rough moorland in a southwesterly direction from Tarbert to the small crofting village of Luskentyre. Whilst the hills we would traverse only just break the 500 m contour, the terrain was almost entirely pathless heather and peat bog interspersed with metamorphic rock bands and thus incredibly hard going. Indeed, upon reaching the first summit of Ceann Reamhar 467 m, it felt like we had climbed a Munro. From here we traversed westwards along a broad ridge to the final and shapely summit of Beinn Dhubh 506 m which forms the backdrop of the Luskentyre Sands. It’s a direct southwestward descent from here to the dunes backing the beach, overlooking the uninhabited island of Taransay, of Castaway 2000 fame. Luskentyre Sands themselves wrap around an extensive dune system that forms a good windbreak to oncoming weather systems for the former crofting hamlet. At low tide, the outlet of the Lacasdail river is reduced to a narrow, sinuous channel that separates Luskentyre Sands to the north from the sand spit of Seilibost to the south. Upon reaching sea level, we traversed the sands around the point, whilst a ferocious wind whipped up the surf. The soft white sands provided a good break from the rough open heathery slopes of Beinn Dhubh. The next weather system was marching rapidly coastward and soon arrived, blasting us with a peculiar mixture of sand and hail. The 1:50 OS map marked an interesting but unexplained (in the key) short black bar crossing the channel of Lacasdail river at the low water mark. I was keen to investigate, but it would have involved around a kilometre or so of head on hail and sand blasting so we decided to turn our backs to the storm and head shoreward to the shelter of the village and our B&B. For our final night on the Western Isles, we enjoyed the cosy comfort of the Luskentyre Lodge.

Monday was a day of sunshine and sharp showers with the wind continuing to make its presence known. We started out from the lodge on the lane leading inland along the Lacasdail estuary until the point at which it is crossed by a bridge to join the main Lewis-Harris spinal route. From here we turned seaward and westward again as we had a few hours prior to the lunchtime bus back north to Tarbert. This gave us time for a brief visit to a Hebridean art/craft gallery followed by a full circuit of the Seilibost sand spit. Our second and final chance for a bracing dip in the sea presented itself with some welcome shelter provided by the rocks at the southern end of Seilibost beach. These provided a good windbreak for changing into the wetsuit and a large patch of blue sky overhead made for all but spring-like conditions. The next squally shower was on the horizon and marching shoreward with haste. Swim successfully complete, we retreated to the shelter of the rock barrier with that warming feeling of accomplishment before making our way over to the main road for the bus back to Tarbert.

The CalMac ferry from Tarbert to Uig on Skye is the shortest crossing of the Minch at just 1 hr 40 minutes. The MV Hebridean Isles made easy work of the short passage of water and from the rear deck the shapely form of the Hills of Harris made for a scenic backdrop. The uninhabited Shiant Isles lie just to the north of this section of water and are well known as a sea bird nesting colony. I kept my eyes on the water for the colourful streaked-bills of the puffins that return to these islands each spring in their thousands. No such luck on this occasion but there were good displays from the gannets, petrels and shearwaters.

Skye / An t-Eilean Sgiteanach

The village of Uig surrounds the perfectly u-formed incision of Uig Bay at the northern end of the island of Skye. The precipitous coastline of stacks and steep scarp of Tertiary volcanic origin is backed by the similarly imposing Trotternish Ridge that rises immediately behind the bay. The transition from the Outer Hebridean to Inner Hebridean landscape represents a significant shift in geological terms; from some of the oldest (300 million year old) to youngest (60 million year old) rocks in Scotland. Uig was our destination for the night prior to making the long trip South back to Lancashire on the Tuesday. The ‘Cowshed’ hostel in Uig was a bustling scene, full of young travellers reminding us that we were back on the ‘highlands and islands’ tourist route. Unfortunately the pub in the village was shut but we settled for a final-night meal in the very satisfyingly-Scottish, tartan carpeted Uig Hotel which was probably more in-keeping with tradition. Next morning, we hauled our luggage for the last time back around the bay to the ferry terminal in order to pickup the CityLink bus for Kyle of Lochalsh. It’s a short run from Uig into the Skye ‘capital’ of Portree. Onward and Southward, the main road weaves its way around the Cuillin Hills at Sligachan and on through Broadford to the humpbacked Skye Bridge that makes easy work of the narrow tidal strait of Kyle Akin. Indeed, it is the presence of this permanent link of concrete and steel, completed in 1995, that leads to Skye no-longer qualifying for official island status in the Haswell-Smith classification. The CityLink bus continues to Glasgow via the West Highlands, but the town of Kyle of Lochalsh is also served by rail from the Highland Capital of Inverness. We were keen to be forgoing a further 5 hours on board the bus by switching over to the train however we were soon to discover that it was not quite the end of the road-based journey for us. A truck had come off the road and was precariously overhanging the railway where the two run side-by-side along the southern shore of Loch Carron, thus closing the line. So it was back on a (rail replacement) bus for the short run over to the station at Lochcarron where another incoming train was turned around for our trip back to Inverness. The minor delay waiting for the bus at Kyle meant we missed our connection on the Highland Mainline at Inverness but luckily the next one was only an hour or so later. We were soon passing the familiar scenes of the Northern corries and weaving our way along the meandering course of the River Tay into Perth and onwards to Glasgow for the short cross-city walk to Central station and the final sprint South over Beattock and Shap.

Extrêmit-isles

After just over a week on these windswept isles on the extreme western edge of Britain, adjusting back to a life of traffic, supermarkets and desk based work took some dedication. Existence on the islands had felt like a battle against the elements and we had become accustomed to leaning into the wind to maintain a level footing. Whilst memories of this trip conjure up imagery best described by adjectives such as bleak and desolate, the Hebrides are possibly some of the best islands in the world. The unique blend of Scottish Gaelic heritage with a pinch of Norse influence gives these islands a strong cultural appeal. The vast, open landscapes and seascapes make the Hebrides a place where big sky and it’s ever changing weather and colour dominate. For me there is just one small discomfort with the Hebrides; the severe lack of tree cover. By comparison, even Uig Bay on Skye with its scattering of bear-branched birch trees felt lush with vegetation. Whilst many parts of the windswept, salt blasted machair-lands of the west would never have supported significant mixed forest development as on mainland Scotland, peat hags with exposed stumps and branches stand like tree-graveyards – monuments to a past, more forested era. In common with similar initiatives elsewhere in the Highlands, community land buyouts such as the the West Harris Trust are beginning to restore this imbalance. Our walk out over the moor of Cnoc na Cloìche near Tarbert included crossing a large fenced area of young mixed saplings. The work of community land trusts coupling Ecological restoration with re-population of the crofting landscape offers a bright future for these beautiful extrêmit-isles of the North Atlantic.