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.

Lochboisdale

 The German lady travelling with her cat left first this morning. We left last. The sun shone, the sea sparkled and the views mesmerised us. We hoped we would never forget this magical area.

Feeling we'd seen the best of Harris and Lewis and being so near the ferry to Uist, along with increased wind speed overnight we drove down to the ferry terminal at Leverburgh where we telephoned the Cal Mac office at Tarbert and changed our crossing tomorrow to four o' clock this afternoon.The lady from Cornwall, next to us last night, arrived and did the same.

With time to kill we drove up to the tiny church of St Clements at Rodel. The church dates back to the sixteenth century and was well worth the visit. The stonework is in remarkable condition considering the elements it is battered by on the cliff top. Several of the clan Macleod are buried there.

As the ferry slipped from its berth we both had that feeling of nervous excitement when you travel somewhere for the first time. We'd become used to Harris and Lewis and its rugged terrain and white sand beaches. We did not really know what to expect of the Uists. 

Our plan on arrival was to drive to the most southerly point at Eriksay, Norse for Eric's Isle, so we could enjoy the views whilst the sun was still shining, as tomorrow rain is forecast.

As beautiful as it was driving the length of North Uist, Benbecula and South Uist via the many causeways, we abandoned the overnight stop. The wind was strong, forecasted to increase. Sometimes life doesn't go too well. Angela really

A cove at Sgarasta Mhor on our way to the ferry, the water was so clear it was hard to imagine it was 6 - 8 feet deep.

Luskentyre, Isle of Harris

Marge was a little unsettled this morning. Lights on dashboard like a Christmas tree. Fuel showing as empty, when it's virtually full and no indicators. Great Marge! But we set off, and after a while she settled down, thank God.

Today we needed to drive back to Harris, as in two days time we must catch our early morning sailing across to North Uist. Marge, dare we say it, breezed along now quite happy. We passed quite a few cyclists struggling their way up the six and a half miles of steep inclines, and didn't envy them.

Stopping at a viewpoint, where we decided to lunch, two cyclists sat quite despondent. They'd shredded a tyre on their 20-inch wheeled tandem on a cattle grid and were awaiting help from the bike shop in Stornoway. As we lunched, three men arrived one after the other after slogging up a huge hill. We got talking, the eldest, from Merseyside was seventy-nine! The good Samaritans we are, we offered to fill their water bottles before they set off, for which they were grateful. 

Feeling a little soft, we powered up Marge and continued onwards to Luskentyre Just when we thought our overnight spots couldn't become more beautiful, we were proved wrong. This is heaven Marge. We are settled above the three-mile-wide estuary with views to the mountains. The van next to us belongs to a lady from Cornwall. She was near to us when we overnighted at Cliff. Needing to stretch our legs we took a walk of a mile and a half down to the beach passing the magnificent holiday homes along the way.

Our favourite building though was 'The Cake Shed'. A little further on, we stopped at the little beach shop and bought ice lollies. And then, what a beach! 

What a view! What a beautiful starfish! We sat on the sand warmed by the sun and looked across at the small island of Taransay where the BBC filmed the programme Castaway in 2000. The success of the programme launched Ben Fogles television career.

John ventured into the cool turquoise water, amazed at just how clear the water was. We could have been on a Caribean island, it was stunningly beautiful. 

This evening us, and the owners of the other three vans are excited as we wait for the sunset. We think it will be amazing.