Lochmaddy, North Uist

Early yesterday evening a mist rolled in off the sea stopping at the shore line on Sollas Beach. The wind dropped and a watery sun lit the sand. It felt cold. No colder. The Oyster Catchers and Artic Terns were a chaotic scene of flapping wings and screeching calls as a larger predator dipped and dived. Despite the chaos, the cows and their calves penned in by wire fencing adorned with air drying seaweed, sat and chilled. 

Darkness falls late here, around eleven-thirty. Before that time a satsuma of a sun hung in a sky of fire. The sunsets here, when they happen are amazing.

The next morning we drove to nearby Lochmaddy to use the showers at the marina. Another eight pound spent, but this time it included two hot drinks. Above the rocks looking out across the harbour sat two stags. Their antlers a giveaway as they nestled in the long grass. Overhead an eagle flew back and forth. A beautiful sight. The gate to the facilities was open, and we weren't sure if we could use them or not. So we did. Whilst John was showering someone locked the outer gate. Oh dear! Fortunately a fisherman nearby told John the code to exit. Thank goodness. 

On then to an off-road park up just above yet another stunning beach. 

But upon our return from our walk we were shocked to see an ugly large white plastic box in front of us, blocking the view. What's wrong with people? A huge grassed area and they park almost touching us. Upset we left. We were fed up with the weather, and this was the final straw. We decided to leave the outer Hebrides and return to Skye. 

Tonight's night's park up is brilliant though. Another ten pound donation required, and there was just us and one other van. We walked out scanning the seaweed covered rocks for otters. Despite signs they'd been feeding they are illusive.

 Precariously crossing a wooden suspension bridge we stepped inside 'the Hut of Shadows'. A camera obscura. We couldn't stay out long though as we needed an early night. To have any hope of obtaining a standby ticket in the morning we had to be a the ferry terminal by six-thirty, so up at five.

Sollas, North Uist

Just before midnight last night Angela decided to sleep in the lower area of Muddy Marge. The wind was just slight of 20 mph, but we were positioned above the beach and Angela felt a little unnerved. 

This morning the incoming tide brought the sun with it, lighting the sea, showcasing it colours of green and blue. Beautiful. But the wind was cold. It didn't matter though. It wasn't raining!  Suddenly our compact living conditions didn't seem so tight. Tomorrow it'll be three weeks since we left home. In those three weeks we've worked out what works and what doesn't work with regard to our living arrangements, and think we have now cracked it. The three of us, Angela, John and 'the boxio' all comfortable in each others company. John likens are tiny space as 'like living in a bathroom!'.

Still in drifting mode we drove just six miles along the coast to Sollas, a small crofting township, where we stayed whilst visiting the island last year. We parked Muddy Marge up in the same space we parked Marge the VW last year, wrapped ourselves up against the wind and set off on a walk across the machair, climbing down the dunes, the sand shifting beneath our feet. Once again, we were greeted by another endless perfect beach. The surf was up. The rolling waves of the ocean followed by a gusting wind which sculptured the sand dunes as it passed through.

Walking back in the strong wind did not excite us, so instead we walked up and over the dunes finding the farm track that led back to Marge. Along the way we passed a graveyard of damaged and abandoned vehicles slowly rotting in the salty coastal air and extreme winter weather. The walk had taken us three hours. The longest since we'd arrived in Scotland as Angela couldn't exert herself too much when she was unwell. Tired we were glad to hunker down inside out of the wind and enjoy our late lunch before taking advantage of a strong WiFi signal to catch up on some programmes we'd missed. 

The wind is due to ease a little during the night

 But we'll be alright here almost on a level with the sea. The parking area is slightly raised and surrounded by a defence of large rocks. At the moment the tide has retreated as far as the eye can see. But once it begins to track it's way back towards us we know it will be at a rate of knots, and in no time the tidal marshes visible at the moment will slowly disappear in some areas. At six o'clock clock we are the only overnighters on this official camping spot. Once again the donation is ten pounds. We are sure when the ferry arrives from the Isle of Skye this evening we will probably be joined by other vans. For now it's just us and the oyster catchers, and that suits us just fine.

Clachan Sands, North Uist

Yesterday evening we sat inside the Calmac ferry booking hall until they closed. The rain wouldn't relent and it made more sense to sit and read in a more spacious area. 

Back at Marge a German couple came over to take a look. After that John couldn't find the vehicle's ignition key and steering lock key. We tried looking in all the obvious places to no avail. Feeling more than a little concerned we literally turned the inside out. Cushions moved, cupboards emptied. Even the roof rack was checked. Nothing. Fortunately Angela had the spare set of keys, but we really needed to find the other set. We even reported to rummaging through the waste bins, so desperate had the situation become. Needless to say we suffered a disturbed nights sleep what with the concern and yet more door slammers near us!

This morning we rise at six thirty to search again. Nothing. A decision had to be made. Should we take our sailing to North Uist or stay on Skye in the hope the keys would turn up? North Uist won. After all we'd driven Marge the VW around Europe for five years with just one ignition key. Not such a clever idea we know.

Before joining the departure queue John left his contact details at the booking desk in case someone found the keys and handed them in. We didn't hold out much hope. We were convinced if we emptied out Muddy Marge again we might find them, hopefully. 

Then John's mobile rang. Were we still in Uig? Were we in the ferry queue? Yes and yes. A staff member on the pier had the keys and would hand them to us just before we boarded. That moment was a real game changer. We can't explain the relief. Angela told the young man who had them she could kiss him, but wouldn't. Just like her mother!

As the Hebridean slipped it's berth and cut through the calm water we placed ourselves first in the queue at the restaurant and ordered two full breakfasts. Angela vegetarian, John a full Scottish. Not sure he enjoyed the large piece of Lorne (square sausage) though. Tired, but now elated we settled down for the rest of the crossing. The north coast of Skye passed by the windows, rocky outcrops covered in green baize. Time to leave the island to today's influx of tourists. One million people are expected to visit this Skye this year.Thats a lot of pressure on a small island.

No rain today, just a cold north easterly wind which whipped across the open land of north Uist. But we don't care. The fact it was no longer raining was good enough for us. Our first stop on the island Clachan Sands, an area above a beautiful beach of white sand was just over a half hour drive away. We headed for it knowing there was water available so we could do some hand washing. A long walk down the vast beach collecting shells along the way and then a walk back through the machair stopping to photograph the pretty mix of flowers. White daisies, golden buttercups, birds-foot trefoil, yellow rattle and ladies bedstraw. Nearby in the sandy banks of the dunes rabbits burrowed and plovers and oystercatchers sounded the alert as four ravens circled and dived around them. 

The views here are amazing, especially now the tide has retreated so far out revealing the flat sands silvery in the late afternoon light. We've come to the Uists for peace and quiet. Hopefully we've found it. The donation in the honesty box is ten pounds to stay here. We think you can't put a price on such a magical place.

Uig, Isle of Skye

Thanks neighbours! At five o'clock clock this morning the family in the motorhome next to us started packing up, loudly. Very loudly. Some people are so inconsiderate. So feeling in need of some comfort we made delicious fried egg sandwiches for breakfast. Just the job. Overhead American fighters circled. The roar of their engines deafening. But we didn't mind. These manoeuvres and practice runs necessary in these troubled times.

All sorted, and last to leave the little park up, we headed back to Portree, stopping to photograph Angela's favourite sight on the island. The Old Man of Storr. Today the cloud retreated enough so the rocky eastern face could be clearly seen. Stunning. 

Who in their right mind visits Portree during school holidays? Apparently we do. The place was rammed. John told motorhomes in the mini bus parking bays they should move or be ticketed, much to the amusement of some drivers. We then found the shortest queue to buy fish and chips, and sat down by the water to eat them. On the way back we saw a row of 6 motorhomes with yellow tickets on their windscreens. And then the rain began. Yet again. Come on summer, time to show yourself. 

Tomorrow we are booked on an early ferry to North Uist. Public showers there are virtually non existence. So we stopped off at the swimming pool to use their facilities once again. Unfortunately the pool was busy and we'd have to wait until five which was too late. However, we were directed to the Skye Gym on the edge of town. Four pounds each and a huge wet room to ourselves. Jackpot! Probably won't bother with the swimming Poole facilities again.

Uig ferry Port is undergoing a massive upgrade, so anyone staying overnight can now stay in the visitors car park by the terminal building. Which we prefer. Once again it is raining relentlessly, but the forecast for Uig looks a little better, so fingers crossed as we need to catch up on some washing. We're not sure how long we'll stay out on the outer Hebridean islands. As always we have no real plan.

Staffin Beach, Isle of Skye

There were seven of us at last nights stop. That's the internet for you, now everyone knows about these pretty little places. What they may not know is the roads out are horrendous. Ascents and descents of 15%. We've driven these roads before in our campervan and Angela vowed never again, she still does!

Once again the morning dawned gloomy. It had rained all night and the cloud cloaked the mountains. It seems the weather is not yet ready to accept it's summer. 

Aware of the limited availability on ferries to the outer Hebrides we decided this morning to book a ferry to Lochmaddy in North Uist, then catch a ferry back to Harris and then back to the mainland over the next week or so. Worst case we'd be stuck on the Outer Hebrides. Oh dear! So more shopping was purchased at a large Coop where we met a lady and her daughter we'd spoken with yesterday evening. They've been van lifers since last summer and like us were in no rush. We are examples of people who wander, but are not lost. 

As expected Skye is busy. A snake of vehicles in both directions. Angela has a love hate feel for the island. She hates it is so busy, but loves its beautiful scenery. She also accepts we make up part of the snake. Our ferry from Uig now booked we stopped at the sports centre in Portree to take showers. Concessions? We most certainly are! £2.20 each then. And the water was hot. Result.

Then time to find an overnight stop. Staffin Beach, where we have stayed before is a little further north on the island. Our route took us past many of the 'must see' tourist spots. Waterfalls, The Old Man of Storr, shrouded in cloud and Kilt Rock. But we didn't need to stop. We've visited them all before. Staffin Beach is famous for it's Dinosaur footprints. Seventeen in total. We managed to spot three today.

It's busy here, no suprise there. But we've managed to tuck in between two large vans which is great as it is windy and they offer us some protection. For now the rain has retreated, but no doubt it will return.

Fish fingers in rolls with salad for tonight's meal all prepared inside. We have a system now, and suddenly our inside space doesn't seem so intimate. And Angela has discovered the Boxio makes a very nice coffee table for her wine!

Tokavaig, Isle of Skye

Yesterday evening was one of those perfect evenings. Down on the beach people camped and cooked over fires. Others sat just enjoying the view. And what a view it was. All in all a perfect evening.

This morning the singing of empty bottles accompanied the bleary eyed of those who'd over consumed. But everyone was cheery. 

There was no rush for us to leave as our sailing to Skye wasn't until six o'clock clock. Never the less we were in Mallaig by mid morning.

A queue for the single public shower was already forming. John was at the head of it and appeared to be the only person to have a hot shower. The rest of us a cold one. But a cold shower is better than no shower. 

The clouds hung low until lunchtime when they decided to empty on all of us whilst waiting in the queue for fish and chips. But we weren't disillusioned. Back at Muddy Marge we found a seat under cover by the toilets (classy), and enjoyed our haddock and chips with homemade tartare sauce. A coach arrived, opened it's exit door and released fifty elderly ladies who all headed to the loo. Confusion. There was one entrance and one exit. No ladies and gents. John told the ladies the toilets were unisex. Word went down the line, they're unisex you know!

With a couple of hours to spare, and our walk for the day complete we sought out a tea room and spent the rest of the afternoon enjoying coffee cake. This was the life. And to make it more pleasurable the sun made an appearance. Our ferry departure time looming, we stopped to top up on fuel enroute to the terminal. After a few words at the terminal where John was told to remove our outside gas tank, and questioned about our overlanding roof top jerry cans we were aboard.

Next stop Skye.

Arriving at Armadale we drove over some of the worst roads single track roads we have encountered to arrive once more at a beach looking over to the Cuillins.