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.

Sollas, North Uist

A cockerel sounded the dawn this morning, awakening the lapwings and oystercatchers in the nearby grass lands who joined the chorus. The sun once again shone, and once again the wind blew, though the speed a little reduced. We were heading up to North Uist today and had chosen some points of interest we wanted to visit along the way.

Firstly, the ruins of Trinity Temple, a thirteenth century nunnery. Set in a field, populated by sheep, the lambs calling for their mothers as we approached. The building emitted just so much history.

Next the five-thousand-year-old Barpa Langass neolithic chambered cairn. sadly, because of collapse inside we couldn't enter, although John thought Angela could squeeze in. No Way! 

Nearby, the Pobell Fhinn standing stones, easily missed, and unimpressive after the standing stones we'd seen at Callanish on the Isle of Lewis. So, with sightseeing complete it was onto tonight's stop on the north coast.

Wow! A beautiful bay swept out before us, white sand, turquoise water, blue skies. At last, Uists, this is what we'd been looking for. Across the Sound of Harris, we can see the mountains Marge had to cross to come here. It is a very beautiful spot, but very cold, the wind blowing from the north east, hardly ice cream weather. But this'll do wont it, Marge? Let's leave the Uists tomorrow with this view in our memories.

Last night unbeknown to us the northern lights had been visible, and they are due to make an appearance tonight so we'll stay up in the hope of seeing them. Meanwhile there's just us, Marge and the oystercatchers here. So peaceful, just how we like it.

Cula Bay, Benbecula

Marge suffered a battering during the night. The wind didn't relent. Although it wasn't the greatest of overnight spots, we luckily managed to shelter her a little. Despite the unrelenting wind the sun crept out of the clouds and this morning was pleasant enough. We'd read on the 'ever so reliable' internet that there were public showers near the ferry terminal, so we went in search. Result. John, dressed only in essentials went first. He soon returned. An old-style pound coin was required to operate them. It feels remote here, but this was something else. Sorry Marge, your facilities are required. Sitting out the weather for a while we logged into the ferry companies wi-fi, blogged, checked out some overnight locations and the weather. Let's go for it, Marge, hang onto your hat though, it's going to be a rough ride.

First Flora Macdonalds house. She's famous for helping Bonnie Prince Charlie leave Scotland bound for France by rowing him across to the Isle of Skye.

Then, onto the nine-metre granite figure of The Lady of the Isles, The Madonna and child. It was O.K. The view from her better. Then over the causeways that cut through a mosaic of lochs and peat bogs. Marge fighting with the wind all the way.

The Uists are not doing it for us. Whether it's the weather, or the rubbish we don't know. There are old rusting lorries, coaches, farm machinery and well, just rubbish everywhere. It's like being in Scotland's scrapyard. We're sure in the summer, when the wild flowers cover the machair and the heather is purple your eyes will be distracted from the eyesore. 

Cula Bay is tonight's stop. We layered up against the wind, now cold and walked through the sand dunes to a sweeping bay with aquamarine water and incredible stones and pebbles, but sadly yet more rubbish. Come on Uists, you have a day and a half to impress us.