Well, maybe not abroad as such but overseas. We'd all looked at maps of the Western Isles, particularly the Uists and the large length of beach, looked at the fat bikes and gone "Hmmm..."
So a plan was hatched - we drive to Uig on Skye, get the ship to Lochmaddy, head to the southern end of the islands on road then ride as much beach / shore line back north as we could, hopefully with a tailwind. Plan B was engaged the night before departure - forecasted winds were stiff northerleys so we'd do the beach on the way down and return by road.
That said the forecast wasn't too bad. The only warm sunshine of the year so far had bathed Scotland for a few days the week before departure and looked like it would last for the weekend, at least. So I headed up to Rob and Iona's on the Friday after work, we did some last minute faffing and packing and then on the Saturday left for the drive to Uig. We were in plenty of time for the boat so lazed around on the dock ignoring peoples comments about the bikes. Finally the ferry opened its doors and in we went. We were off!
I've good experience of Calmac Western Isles ferries, and the food served thereon. This afternoon was no exception so well fed we departed the boat and pedaled west in the warm evening sunshine.
I've good experience of Calmac Western Isles ferries, and the food served thereon. This afternoon was no exception so well fed we departed the boat and pedaled west in the warm evening sunshine.
We hit the first beach just north of Solas via some large Dunes. The sun was splitting the sky and the tide was far out.
Eventually we cruised southwest, the Isle of Vallay to our right. This was our destination but we had a river to cross first. In the event it disappeared into the sand so we crossed dry. We then headed out to the island over a large expanse of rippled sand.
The tide was coming in but we had plenty of time as the sun slowly sank towards the horizon. We made landfall by an old abandoned farm, crossed to the west of the island on a rough track and settled on a sheltered bit of the Machair behind the beach.
Next morning was a bit grey but dry as we packed up and headed back to the east shore
Big tyres
Then it was a case of heading roughly south back to the shore. On making landfall we decided to take the wee road to Claddach as pre trip research indicated not much in the way of beach on the shore west of this. At Claddach itself the fun began - ride onto the shore and pick your way along it. This is a whole new biking experience. Your not following a defined path, its just a case of pick a likely route and go for it, a total free for all. This continued to the causeway linking the isle of Baleshare to the mainland.
We then hopped over this and picked our way round more coast line to Carinish. We'd had a sprinkle of rain earlier but it had stopped and the sky had cleared somewhat. At Carinish we got off the beach and onto the road (Rob rode right to the bitter end - he seemed less reluctant to ride through salt water than me and Iona) then dropped back onto the shore at the end of a short inlet.
Riding along a shore line gives a whole new perspective of a landscape. The sea was nowhere to be seen (thankfully) but we passed numerous pools teaming with sea life, saw various sea birds and generally enjoyed biking in an environment with almost no sign of human influence or structure.
Eventually we cruised southwest, the Isle of Vallay to our right. This was our destination but we had a river to cross first. In the event it disappeared into the sand so we crossed dry. We then headed out to the island over a large expanse of rippled sand.
The tide was coming in but we had plenty of time as the sun slowly sank towards the horizon. We made landfall by an old abandoned farm, crossed to the west of the island on a rough track and settled on a sheltered bit of the Machair behind the beach.
Next morning was a bit grey but dry as we packed up and headed back to the east shore
Big tyres
Then it was a case of heading roughly south back to the shore. On making landfall we decided to take the wee road to Claddach as pre trip research indicated not much in the way of beach on the shore west of this. At Claddach itself the fun began - ride onto the shore and pick your way along it. This is a whole new biking experience. Your not following a defined path, its just a case of pick a likely route and go for it, a total free for all. This continued to the causeway linking the isle of Baleshare to the mainland.
We then hopped over this and picked our way round more coast line to Carinish. We'd had a sprinkle of rain earlier but it had stopped and the sky had cleared somewhat. At Carinish we got off the beach and onto the road (Rob rode right to the bitter end - he seemed less reluctant to ride through salt water than me and Iona) then dropped back onto the shore at the end of a short inlet.
Riding along a shore line gives a whole new perspective of a landscape. The sea was nowhere to be seen (thankfully) but we passed numerous pools teaming with sea life, saw various sea birds and generally enjoyed biking in an environment with almost no sign of human influence or structure.
At one point I looked shore-ward and noticed the campsite I'd stayed at 2 years previously (Cleit Feora) meaning we were close to the first of the road causeways linking the islands. Soon enough we approached the sea channel and had to leave the shore line and get up onto the road. A quick map appraisal suggested we'd be as well following the road until we got onto Benbecula. This went via another small isle - Grimsay....
Looking to our right we noticed more flat sand and after a bit of recce-ing found a track down to it. We then managed to follow the shore right round the airstrip, past more dunes and onto the beach proper.
Balivanich provided lunch. Its typical of many Hebrides villages in that most buildings are concrete block with grey whin harling. All very robust but it makes everything very grey and dull, not helped by the equally grey and dull sky. Still it was dry. Thereafter we stuck to the road round the rest of the island as the afternoon was rolling on. We crossed onto South Uist on another road causeway and then cut west to the coast. There is an MOD rocket range on the north end of the island and my attempts to fathom its operating times had proven fruitless. We figured they wouldn't be firing on a Sunday evening so hopefully all would be well. Sure enough at Ardivachar, there was no sign of any red flags so we hit the sand, 20 miles of beach ahead of us.
We cruised, the riding easy on the hard sand. The tide was coming in but there was plenty to spare. The cloud had cleared somewhat and the sea was blue, nothing between us and America. There didn't seem to be anything stopping us wandering up onto the the range other than the odd sign. Various block houses and other odd shaped things were the only things to be seen and their purpose unfathomable. Eventually it was time to start finding a place to camp. After checking out a few likely spots that were a bit rubbish, I realised we were close to the Gatliff Trust hostel at Howmore. R & I seemed a bit dubious about paying for camping but the thought of toilets, showers and a kitchen swayed them (and only a fiver) so off we went and pitched up right beside the building.
Day 3 dawned bright and sunny. Breakfasted and packed up we rode straight back to the beach and carried on south.
Looking to our right we noticed more flat sand and after a bit of recce-ing found a track down to it. We then managed to follow the shore right round the airstrip, past more dunes and onto the beach proper.
Balivanich provided lunch. Its typical of many Hebrides villages in that most buildings are concrete block with grey whin harling. All very robust but it makes everything very grey and dull, not helped by the equally grey and dull sky. Still it was dry. Thereafter we stuck to the road round the rest of the island as the afternoon was rolling on. We crossed onto South Uist on another road causeway and then cut west to the coast. There is an MOD rocket range on the north end of the island and my attempts to fathom its operating times had proven fruitless. We figured they wouldn't be firing on a Sunday evening so hopefully all would be well. Sure enough at Ardivachar, there was no sign of any red flags so we hit the sand, 20 miles of beach ahead of us.
We cruised, the riding easy on the hard sand. The tide was coming in but there was plenty to spare. The cloud had cleared somewhat and the sea was blue, nothing between us and America. There didn't seem to be anything stopping us wandering up onto the the range other than the odd sign. Various block houses and other odd shaped things were the only things to be seen and their purpose unfathomable. Eventually it was time to start finding a place to camp. After checking out a few likely spots that were a bit rubbish, I realised we were close to the Gatliff Trust hostel at Howmore. R & I seemed a bit dubious about paying for camping but the thought of toilets, showers and a kitchen swayed them (and only a fiver) so off we went and pitched up right beside the building.
Day 3 dawned bright and sunny. Breakfasted and packed up we rode straight back to the beach and carried on south.
There were a couple of rock areas just south of Howmore but mostly it was sand, sand and more sand. Rob was starting to get bored with this but me and Iona, being more of a travelling mindset were taken in by it all. Mainly its just the relaxation of looking at the flat sea, the easy riding, no traffic and no people. The sand did have its foibles. What looked like a uniform flat surface would sometimes give way under your tyres, something that could be pedaled through but with a lot of effort. When this happened it was easier to head above the tide line as the soft sand was much easier going. Normal bikes wouldn't have got anywhere.....
Seaweed also played its part with huge drifts of it all over parts of the beach thanks to the winter storms.
At Trolasgeir we stopped for lunch and lazed about checking out the views. Bigger clouds were coming in from the south (although the breeze was northerly) and there was a chill in the air. Still it was dry and we had plenty of gear to fend off the cold so eventually, well fed, we carried on.
Finally, at Pol a Cara, the beach ran out and we returned to civilisation. The best bit of this was a handy pub. So we sat in the last of the sunshine having a beer and contemplating our next moves. Eriskay was the next island, also linked by a causeway but if we wanted to go to Barra then a ferry would be required. We figured we'd camp on Eriskay that evening and head across the next day, camp on Barra and then head back up the following day.
Eriskay is quite small but has a good shop and a pub. After a bit of debate we figured that finding a camp site whilst it was still light was the way forward. We would then hit the pub. Rob was stressing about wild camping so close to houses but I'd read that the locals are quite happy for people to do this. Finding a sheltered spot was not easy as there isn't any and the wind was picking up. Eventually we found an ideal spot behind the beach near to the ferry terminal which was in the lea of the island. Up with the tents and then into the pub. We chatted to a few of the locals who were interested in our undertaking (and confirmed we could camp anywhere) and then eventually headed back out to the tents.
Hmm. It was shaping up to be a wild night. It had started raining and the wind was getting fierce. I was using my newly acquired Force 10 Nitro and R&I were in a Nitro+. The problem was that the machair is just sand dunes covered in grass and my pathetic pegs weren't gripping. I woke up after not much sleep to note the tent was collapsing around me. I'd already been out twice to the loo (thanks to the beer) and my bladder was needing emptying again. At least the rain had stopped but my pegs were clearly not up to the job. Fortunately there were a few rocks lying about so I used these and the bikes to keep pegs and guys in place. Inside again and I then noticed the wind had changed and was hitting the front quarter of the tent instead of the rear resulting in repeated bashings of the tent on my head. The noise was also fierce and I had forgotten ear plugs.
So there I lay, the wind battering my tent, sleep impossible. My bladder wasn't helping, going into overdrive in protest of the cheap beer. Many hours later after only brief snatches of sleep (and lots of loo visits) I gave up. It was now daylight but only about 6 am. The tent felt like it was about to take off and I didn't want it to be trashed on its first trip so I packed up and in a fit of inspiration headed down to the ferry terminal. The waiting room was an oasis of calm so I dozed for a while and then brewed tea and made breakfast. I could see R&I's tent and when they emerged (looking confused and concerned at my tents absence) I waved and they joined me soon after. Earlier I'd been all for heading back to Loch Maddy and getting out of there thanks to my sleepless night but Iona convinced me that the ride north against the strong wind would be miserable plus we wanted to bag another island.
The ferry wasn't for a while so we headed for the shop. This is typical of the Western Isles i.e. it serves as a community centre, cafe, shop selling all things and all round gathering place. We pigged out on coffee and cake and bought supplies for later (including cheap whisky!)
The ferry is one of those odd looking flat bottomed ones designed for minimal waves. Given the wind this was of concern but the route to Barra is fairly sheltered and in the event the crossing was fine with amazing views all round. Looking west we noted snow dusting the tops of the Cuillin.....
Barra is well known for having an airstrip on the beach. Obviously we had to ride this so made a bee line for it.
The sand is particularly hard. It was a bit odd seeing sets of triple tyre tracks from the planes. None were in sight so we rode right across the lot, to the bemusement of various people waiting on the shore to see a plane land.
We then wandered our way north looking for the campsite that was marked on the ferry terminal info board. On arrival it revealed itself as a rough field with a boarded up and partially ruinous toilet block. So much for a night of luxury. We headed up to the northern most point of the island but there was no obvious bivvy site so headed back to the airfield. We followed a track over to the west shore and rode through an area of Machair surrounded by sand dunes. This looked to be a perfect camping spot so after riding the beach for a bit we returned and set up camp.
We were all shattered after a near sleepless night so after making and eating tea, drinking cheap whisky and blethering about the ups and downs of beach riding, crashed out.
We were up sharp the next morning as we wanted to get the first boat back. The wind had dropped substantially which was a relief as we were to ride all day into it. The sky was still bright but it was definitely chilly. Snow was visible on the lower hills on North Uist as well as Skye and we later learned that Cairngorm had had 18" fall at car park level i.e. more than had fallen at any point during January.....
On reaching Eriskay we revisted the shop for the days food and then headed back to South Uist. Rather than ride the road we opted for a track shown on the map which seemed to follow most of the west coast behind the dune line. There were gaps on the marked line but we figured we could hit the beach for those. In the event the track is pretty much continuous all the way with only a couple of vague bits.
Of particular note were the herd of cows on the golf course despite play going on. We missed a bit here and ended up on a vague line along a field edge but soon rejoined the coast track. At lunch time we rode down to the beach to miss a bit of road out and I finally saw my first Otter which we disturbed as we approached.
Then it was past Howmore again and on a bit further until the track ran out at Stilligarry. After this it was a road ride but there was next to no traffic. We took the straight road across Benbecula and as tea time was approaching decided to stop at the campsite we'd passed two days previously and I'd used two years previously.
I was convinced there was a Co-op along the road a few miles past this site so after putting the tents up I hared off with the aim to buy cake and beer. After half an hour it was clear I'd got my wires crossed as I saw neither a Co-op or any other shop. Oh well, we'll just have to have another dry night. (It turns out this Co-op was actually located at the south end of Benbecula and we'd pedaled past it without noticing, hey ho)
Still we had a relaxing evening until the rain came on and drove us into our tents. The next morning was a bit damp but we only had a few miles to go so we packed up quickly and headed back up the main road to Loch Maddy. The ferry arrived and we finished our trip with yet another fine sea crossing and more excellent Calmac food.
Rob, on another blog wrote his own thoughts on this trip, which I quote here for completeness:-
Three fatties set off to sample the salty sand (and stinky seaweed) of the Western Isles, heading from Lochmaddy along the north and west coasts to Eriskay and Barra. Multi-day beach riding in the UK – cool – where else do you get to ride along a runway and a beach at the same time? The bikes will never be the same again – the Moonlander lost a front wheel bearing, seized its BB and got rusty (I only rode through deep salt water once!). (this is not true he was in and out of the sea like a fish)
Stuff we learnt:
It’s true, sand does get everywhere!
Wet seaweed has no grip at all.
Seaweed stinks.
Stainless steel does rust.
Sand.
You can’t free-wheel on a beach.
Calmac food is tasty.
Syrup waffles – 2000 calories per pack, yum.
Was that sewage – no just rotting seaweed.
If you need to get rid of your old car just drive it into the sea – it will be gone in no time.
Sand
Baile a’ Mhanaich translates to Livingston with a beach.
Benbecula – “not so grim on a sunny day.”
Eriskay – never has so much been consumed by so few. All the better for it though. (see Whisky Galore)
The rocket range is a let down – I’ve set off bigger fireworks!
Wet seaweed has no grip at all.
Seaweed stinks.
Stainless steel does rust.
Sand.
You can’t free-wheel on a beach.
Calmac food is tasty.
Syrup waffles – 2000 calories per pack, yum.
Was that sewage – no just rotting seaweed.
If you need to get rid of your old car just drive it into the sea – it will be gone in no time.
Sand
Baile a’ Mhanaich translates to Livingston with a beach.
Benbecula – “not so grim on a sunny day.”
Eriskay – never has so much been consumed by so few. All the better for it though. (see Whisky Galore)
The rocket range is a let down – I’ve set off bigger fireworks!
Sand
