Sheep are also enjoying breakfast -- in the front garden
Also, this family of scaups
After breakfast (scrambled eggs turn out to be how they make them best), we drive to Macleod's Stone, a short walk across a beach. En route, we stop at an honesty store.
adc stealing from the local supermarket It is home to a boutique-mustard brand called MustHeb
I finally dip my toes into the ocean and goof around a bit in the better weather (at last), before we trace our steps back to our vehicle.
Jellyfish
tOMoH is getting cold feet
As we change shoes, a minibus parks near us and unloads its passengers. I recognise the Haggis Adventures logo on the driver's shirt; we chat a bit.
He and his colleagues made a pact to get the yellow bus tattooed on their bums. He chickened out at the last moment and went for the arm instead.
Our next stop is Scarista, where we plan to walk on another beach. We almost crash into a red van driven by a hipster who does not understand passing places. Fortunately, no harm.
Also on the way: redshanks
And mergansers
The beach is larger and just as pretty. Less crowded too. We spot great black-backed seagulls and oystercatchers.
JS and tOMoH at this year's Marathon des Sables
Devil's takes the opportunity to work on his tan
Under the watchful eye of oysercatchers
Back to Leverburgh for a quick refresh, then we are off to Rodel to see St Clement's Church. It is an easy five-kilometre on road (not too frequented) and the weather is now gorgeous.
The steeple appears in the distance
The church in question is peaceful and pretty. It is in great shape too. Even though it is never crowded, visitors follow one another in quick succession, which means we are never entirely alone. Nae matter.
Claymore-adorned tombstones inside the church
The walk back facing the wind is a little less enjoyable, but fine enough. Incredibly, at ten kilometres, this will remain our longest hike of this trip.
On the way, this waterfall
A shower, then supper at the B&B. It is Sunday: it is likely the only place that serves food on the isle. New guests have arrived: two ladies who are cycling the Hebridean Way. They are more distant than the couple from last night, but we make do.
Smoky Lentil Soup, Croutons
Grilled Haddock, Hazelnut Butter, Jersey Royal Potatoes, Cavolo Nero
Pink Lady Crumble, Blueberry Creme Very good, though the yoghurt is superfluous for my taste
After the exhausting day yesterday, we have a late start and have just enough time to freshen up before breakfast (poached eggs for me, today, overcooked again).
Poached eggs on toast and smoked salmon (adc and me)
Scrambled eggs on toast and smoked salmon (JS)
Our host is as distant as ever; he is probably just shy and wants to be unintrusive, but the effect only feels unwelcoming. During our whole stay, we wonder if he realises that and why he chose this career.
As we check the condition of our boots to decide whether we will hike today or not (they got a proper rinsing, yesterday), he tells us, "we have boot driers." Indeed they do -- they have three programmes: 3h, 6h or 9h. Yeah, cheers! That's us not hiking today, then. Wish he had said that when we arrived.
We drive to Tarbert. On the beaches and in the hills, we see the milestones (mileflags?) for today's 5km race and the half-marathon. We joke about it, but I can sense JS is seriously considering signing up. There are spaces left and there is time. We stop at the distillery.
Isle of Harris distillery is another disappointing experience. It comes across as a visitor centre that also makes whisky. Of course, that is a sure way to bring in cashflow, but, in terms of authenticity, this might as well be the business-class departure lounge of an airline, when compared to what we saw yesterday at Abhainn Dearg. One of the two members of staff is English, which, once again, perplexes me: what of all those claims of bringing employment to the local community? Perhaps she lives on the island all year round and has for decades; I just find it striking how many non-natives we see work bars and visitor centres in general, and on this trip in particular (Russian at Arran, American at Torabhaig, East Coast Scotland at Raasay and, now, English at Harris). Anyway, they have a bar with two whiskies to taste: a batch of The Hearach (46%, OB, ex-Bourbon + ex-Oloroso + ex-Fino Casks), a batch of The Hearach (46%, OB, ex-Oloroso Casks). Neither of those is available to purchase. In the shop, they have three different batches of The Hearach in ex-Bourbon+Oloroso+Fino casks, and at least two different batches of The Hearach in ex-Oloroso casks. I am certain most people visiting (or, indeed, working in) the shop would not see the difference, but I find it sloppy. We leave empty-handed.
From there, we drive north and take the B687 west. We pass the ruins Bunavoneader Whaling Station, the village of Bun Abhainn Eadarra and the remotest tennis court of Bunabhainneadar. Perhaps one day, the Hearachs will decide which spelling they like best. For now, it is a a free-for-all.
Bunavoneader Whaling Station
We continue and park the car to start our hike to the North Harris Eagle Observatory. The weather is not great. Fortunately, I am wearing my new waterproof hiking trousers, and we have our waterproof "overtrousers." Well, adc and I do. JS left hers to dry at the B&B. I lend her mine. Why would I need two pairs anyway, eh?
Despite a few boggy patches, the walk is fairly unchallenging. The rain starts. We reach the hide. It has huge windows that should make for extraordinary vistas sheltered from the elements.
Extraordinary vistas
Devil's prefers the view indoors
Today, all we can see are clouds and fog. A couple of flies inside. A soggy stonechat outside. Slow day. The Belgians we saw on the path join and have a picnic in the hide. When they leave, we have a dram of 163.1 6yo 2018/2024 Smokin'! (58.1%, SMWS Society Cask, 1st Fill ex-Bourbon Barrel, 240b), then decide to go too. The weather is not improving, nothing will happen here.
The walk back under the rain with headwind is not enjoyable. For one, my bladder is full. For two, it is that kind of rain only found in Scotland that feels partly like floating in a cloud of pulverised droplets, partly like walking at the bottom of a swimming pool. My so-called waterproof trousers really are not. My knees and my bum are dry-ish, but even my underwear is wet; the waterproof pouch for my binoculars is wet inside; my waterproof rucksack is closer to a fishbowl; my TSOB badge is starting to discolour; my notebook, which I keep in my waterproof trouser pocket, is starting to bend; my trainers, which I am wearing because my boots are drying at the B&B, are now wetter than them. What a country! :-D
On the way back to Tarbert, I point out the bridge under which I spent a night in July 2000, when a sheep woke me up and gave me a good fright.
Here.
Later on, we call at the Hebrides People Visitor Centre. Closed. We head back to Leverburgh and change into something a little less wet. JS and I then go to the nearby brewery. adc stays in, in a bid to dry up.
The brewery is a cool place with good beers (local and Belgian) and a relaxed vibe. They play great music too -- I trainspot a Simple Minds song and they have a QR code for their whole playlist.
Enjoying a tasting flight
After about an hour, we walk back to the B&B, a walk that humidifies our rare drier clothes -- yes: it is raining again, though less hard. Time to freshen up and enjoy an in-house dinner. New guests have arrived. They are friendly and we chat a lot. They are driving through the isles south to north, the opposite way we are. Dinner is good too. Annoyingly, the main dish is exactly what I had yesterday at The Boatshed, and slightly less impressive. On the other hand, the dessert, homemade shortbread, is fantastic.
Strathdon Blue, Oat Cakes, Leaves and Roast Vine Tomatoes
Grilled Salmon, Citrus sauce, Herb Baby Potatoes, Tenderstem Broccoli
