The Ends justifies the means:
Friday night was spent at the 'Boutique' Cowshed bunkhouse (oxymoron?) in Uig. Now its a while since I stayed in a bunkhouse in Scotland but I don't remember them looking like this!
It was very good indeed with small dorms, each bunk having its own little shelf, light and socket for the recharging of those modern travel essentials. I even had a full curtain so I could blog in private. The curtain however didn't keep out the light when someone burst through the door 'western saloon syle' at god knows what time. The main room light stayed on for 10 minutes while the offender faffed with rustling
carrier bags and zips before leaving the roomd with the light still on. 10 minutes later I got up to switch the light off, the culprit returned soon after but clearly resisted the temptation to reoffend.
It may not have been the same person, although I suspect it was (a young oriental gentleman) that got up early in the morning, disappeared to the bathroom for 5 minutes, came back and sprayed half a can of deodorant on himself and around the room. I'm afraid the Lynx effect was lost on me, I could have kneecapped the little shit.
It was a glorious evening in Uig, sunny but too early in the season for midges.
The following morning also started promisingly but was windy and cold.
I could see the ferry I needed to catch for the Isle of Harris from the host so it was just a quick mile downhill to catch it.
The crossing to Tarbert is around an hour and 40 minutes, most of it was spent in the cabin as it was freezing and blowing a hoolie on deck.
I stocked up on lunch in Tarbert and headed off on my planned route out to the west of Harris, I'd heard the road out to Huisnis was one of the most scenic in the Hebrides. Progress was slow heading initially north as there was a vicious northerly blowing, The trip was an out and back route of around 30 miles with lots of hills enroute. After a few miles struggling with the gales it didn't look good but then what else could I do with the day, the hostel wasn't open until 5pm.
I stopped for lunch at the only shelter for miles around, the end of a wall provided a bit of shelter from the Arctic blast. I dined in style making the most of the finest local produce, a Scotch pie, packet of McCoys crisps and a can of Irn Bru.
Some views on the road to Huisnis:
Highland Coos:
The return trip was just as cold and arduous as the outward one so were it not for the splendours of Huisnis, it may not have been worthwhile.
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