Husninish, Isle of Harris

We were excited this morning. Today we would sail from Uig in the north of Skye to Tarbert on the Isle of Harris, Outer Hebrides. Some people say, they don't feel they're on holiday if they haven't arrived on an aeroplane. Angela, feels you must take a ferry. Our French neighbours, pleased to see the sun was shining left to visit the Talisker distillery before driving to the Fairy Pools. Portree was quiet as we walked into town. The lull before the storm. In the summer half a million people descend on Skye. We could only imagine the chaos.

Vans were already at Uig for the ten past two sailing. After deliberating how much time we wanted to spend on Harris and Lewis we booked the ferry that would take us across to North Uist for April 23rd. The young man in the van in front of us couldn't keep his eyes of Marge. That suited her just fine. With time to kill he proceeded to spray white touch up paint to cover rust spots on the roof of his van. As you do. No, you don't! Marge what are those white spots over your bonnet, headlights and windscreen. Awkward. John was not best pleased. Fortunately the nearby garage sold T-cut which the young man paid for and the clean-up began. As the light faded this evening John was still trying to shift the offensive marks. All a little bit embarrassing, as the culprit is parked just across from us by the beach. 

Harris was a shock. It seemed a little wild. We'd decided to drive to Husninish bay for our first night. Here you pay ten pounds, there are toilets and showers at one pound for three minutes. Of course, John needed two pounds worth. Angela however can wash herself, leggings, socks and pants in two and a half minutes. Show off! No Marge, organised. 

A twelve-mile drive across a dry barren landscape on a narrow road which steep sided lochs, hills, bends and passing places we felt like we're on our way to the end of the world. And of course, livestock. Sheep in the road, to be expected.

Highland cattle with no intention of moving, well the drive just got more interesting. Marge inched by, worried one of the cows might kick out. As we brushed the tail of the last one, we all breathed a sigh of relief. Was this a good idea to drive this way? Then as Marge crested the final hill we stopped to look and photograph.

A bay of white sand, rocky outcrops and scattered seaweed lies before us. Suddenly the drive was forgotten. Well, until tomorrow morning when we have to do it all in reverse, hopefully minus the cows. 

Marge is in an amazing spot, side on to the beach. As the light fades more white sand is exposed by the receding tide, We are hoping tomorrow will dawn sunny and really showcase this beautiful area.