Hebrides Tour - Day 5

Heading south:

Last  night's hostel was the 'Backpackers Stop' in Tarbert.  None of the mod cons or underfloor heating of last night's hostel but warm and welcoming with lots of nice touches like towels, free tea, 'fresh' coffee, rice, pasta, and all the  breakfast  cereal a cycle tourer could possibly need and all for £20.
It was a good  5 minutes walk into 'town' so once again I was stuck with staying in the hostel.  Getting back on my bike to find food in the evenings rarely appeals. I did however pop into town before settling down to get provisions  for the following day and a couple of bottles of local beer for the evening.
As look would  have it there was a chippy right next to the hostel, meticulous planning on my part.

                                         Hostel yellow, chippy white - happy days

There were 3 other travellers in the dorm, one of whom was a young French guy called Thomas. 

He'd camped out for the last 5 nights but now took refuge in the hostel as his tent was in the bin having been destroyed by the gales of the previous night.

Thomas came out with the quote of the week so far (read in a French accent) - "I murst resharge my iperd, I carn go to ell but not wizout music".  I like his style.

The plan today was to ride from Tarbert to Leverburgh at the southern tip of Harris.  I had all day to do just around 25 miles so it would be nice to ride at a very leisurely pace. The day started immediately with a steep climb from the hostel, a big ask of lungs and legs barely awake. 
I'd planned to take the minor road down the east side of the island but was advised by the warden at the hostel that the west side was more scenic and less hilly. It was a no brainer.

Again, it was windy and chilly but not on the scale of yesterday. Continuing the pattern of the week, I made use of a bus stop for shelter and as time was on my side I checked my map to see where the minor road by the bus stop led to.  It led to a beach called Losgaintir.

I rode the 2 miles and landed at a car park and toilet block. Frustratingly there was a sandy path leading to the unseen beach which was guarded by a cycle unfriendly style.  I normally wouldnt attempt a walk of this distance, 'over 100 metres' but having come this far I decided  to press on.  An awkward tussle got my bike through the style so I had something to lean on to help me on my way.  It was worth the effort.

The route down the west coast was a succession spectacular bays and rocky promontories.

As the miles rolled by I realised that it may be an option to get the earlier ferry to Bernaray at 2:10pm.  As I neared Leverburgh time was tight and it became a full blown race to make Leverburgh on time.  I arrived in a sweaty breathless state. It was ominously quiet, yet another cancelled ferry, this time due to low tides!

I went into the waiting room to find 2 other less than happy cycle tourers, both buried in their books and resigned to the 3 hour wait.  I decided  to wander off to explore a bit more of Harris but on the road out I noticed a bunkhouse so plan B unfolded.  I checked that a bed was available and learned that there was a ferry at 8:25 the following morning.  l claimed a bed, checked my map and decided to ride round a loop of the south east part of the island and head for Berneray the following morning.

This side of the island is in complete constrast to the open aspect and wide sandy bays of the west.  It's all craggy and desolate with just a few isolated houses dotted around.

lm not sure I'd  want to live here but at least there  would be no issues with noisy neighbours.

The route was a joy and virtually traffic free.  It was anything but flat so today's  easy day turned out to be well over 3000ft of ascent, the Hebrides are not as easy as I'd presumed.  

I returned to the hosel to find the place swarming with a group from Yorkshire Ramblers,  13 of them and subsequently 5 other cyclists arrived so the hostel's facilities were stretched to breaking point. Everyone was very friendly though and we all bumped, tripped and nudged our way around each other during the chaos of food preperation in the evening.

Thank you to the gentleman who gave me a wee dram, the 2nd time this week thats happened.  I must look like the type that drinks whisky!


When I'd popped in to the hostel in the afternoon I was told it was pretty full for the night but that no one had yet arrived. 'Go and grab any bed in room no 4' - I couldn't find room 4, I went back to the owners house next door and asked for help.  'It's upstairs  he said, a six bunk room'  I'd already had a quick look upstairs but hadnt seen the room, I ventured back up the stairs. Upstairs was a mezanine level with just 1 bunk in an open area, a big mirror on the wall and not much else, now I really was confused.  I did another tour of the hostel to search for a different staircase, there was none.

With my tail between my legs I sheepishly went next door again, 'I still can't find it' - the bemused owner marched me upstairs to the mezanine floor and pointed at the 'mirror' which wasn't a mirror but a big port hole style door opening with an 8 inch cill at the bottom, beyond it lay the elusive 6 bunk room. Senior moment or a visit  to Specsavers needed?