Friday, August 5th, we motor sailed north from Skye in a gentle breeze under mostly cloudy skies. Our destination? The Outer Hebrides. We might as well have been heading to outer space, for where we arrived seemed other worldly. The rocky, treeless landscape appeared lunar, and even some of the rocks, a tourist brochure told us, were the same as those on the moon.
Our first landfall was the fishing village of Scalpay on a tiny island connected by a short bridge to the Isle of Harris. A short bus ride away was the village of Tarbert and a small grocery store. On the bus, we rolled through a stunning landscape of craggy hills separated by deep notches. The bus alternately climbed and coasted across a single lane road as it wove its way to town.
A common name in Scotland, Tarbert means a place of portage in Gaelic. Here, centuries ago sailors dragged their boats across the isthmus that separates the Little Minch from the Atlantic Ocean. We walked the isthmus to set our eyes on the Atlantic horizon.
We shopped two Harris Tweed stores for souvenirs. Known the world over for its warmth and tight, water repellant weave, Harris Tweed is only woven on the Isle of Harris. Emily chose a coin purse, while I selected a classic Scottish cap. After grocery shopping, we stopped at the village pub for a pint while awaiting the return bus to Scalpay. On the ride back, we chatted with two other cruisers who were anchored at Scalpay. One was a middle aged British woman who was single handing her Hallberg-Rassy 34 around the Western Isles. The other was a couple from Edinburgh piloting a 52-foot fishing vessel of Norse design built in 1946 and subsequently converted for live aboard life.
Two fishermen on the village pier where we had tied up were kind enough to ease our dock lines while we were away. It seems Windleblo had started to get a bit hung by the falling tide, which ranges about three meters at this time of the month. With their permission, we moved Windleblo to tie alongside their fishing boat, which served as a convenient floating pontoon for the night.
The next morning dawned mostly cloudy but dry, with a light wind from the north. We motored out of Loch Tarbert and turned to the south towards our next destination. John Allan had told us about Loch Rodel, which he had visited more than ten years ago on one of his many trips to Scotland. He recalled a pint he had consumed in a pub that was attached to a derelict vintage hotel.
Well, now that hotel has been fully rebuilt, the pub has moved inside, and the wing where the pub used to be has fallen into disrepair. Curious how circumstances change over time, isn’t it? We had a good view of the hotel from our mooring in a deep, enclosed pool on the east side of Loch Rodel. The 52-foot fishing boat anchored in the pool shortly after we arrived. We hailed the Edinburgh couple, Gordon and Julie, to invite them aboard for a drink later.
Venturing ashore, we took a walk to St. Clement’s Church, where intricately carved tombs dating back to the 16th century displayed names like MacLeod and Alexander. An added bonus? The Danes hold St. Clement as a patron saint of mariners.
Returning to the hotel, we enjoyed hot tea and scrumptious ginger cake with pouring cream. Later, our new friends from Edinburgh told us of their lives in Scotland – he as an investor and she as a ballet examiner – over cocktails aboard Windleblo. They had recently returned from the Far East where things were “rattling.”
When the tide was right, we departed the next morning for Berneray, a small island connected by a causeway to the Uist group of islands. We took a vacant visitor’s mooring after a serpentine route through a narrow channel in shallow water. Our navigation efforts were rewarded by a shore hike through the most extensive set of sand dunes in the UK and a two miles stretch of white sand beach that rivaled any on Cape Cod or Florida. Another bonus? We had the beach all to ourselves. (Of course the Scottish weather – once again cool and moist— kept other beachcombers away.)
The next morning, a strong northwesterly breeze pushed us forty miles to the southern end of the Uist island chain and Lochboisdale. Thankfully the wind and waves were headed our way, as for a brief time the anemometer touched 40 knots – gale force!! We were heavily reefed, needless to say, and trusty Windleblo wasn't fazed.
Lochboisdale’s only claim to fame, as far as I could tell, was that it was one of the islands’ main ferry landings. The Lochboisdale hotel offered us a decent cup of tea, which was like heaven to us as we have now taken to rationing propane. As in Norway, refilling our Swedish propane bottles has proven problematic, and we worry that we may run out before finding replenishment. Consequently, discretionary cups of tea on board are temporarily prohibited. Yet another example of live aboard inconveniences.
With tea time over, we switched to pints in the local public house, where we met Shaunauch and friends. These 20-something natives were taking a bit of the hair of the dog this Monday evening after a weekend of partying that started in celebration of a racing event on Saturday. Drinking with her and her friends gave us a brief glimpse into their version of island living, which resembled small town living anywhere – everyone knows everyone else and their secrets. Fascinating….
Tuesday, we jumped 25 miles south, again with a following breeze, to Castlebay, the other ferry landing town on this end of the Hebrides. Here, we toured Kisimul Castle, which sits surrounded by the waters of Castlebay harbor. First built in the 15th century, the castle served as a stronghold for the Macneils of the island of Barra, who sat on the Council of the Isles throughout the 16th century. Despite its considerable strength, Kisimul was abandoned, gutted by fire, and plundered for stone. Only recently did the 20th-century clan chief, Robert Lister Macneil, renovate the castle.
Later that day, our new crew members, Chris and Ann Adams, arrived via ferry from Oban to join us for our return from the Outer Hebrides. We left Barra Wednesday morning for a 60-mile passage across the Sea of the Hebrides and a re-entry from the other worldly environs of the Outer Hebrides, undoubtedly this season’s most remote destination.
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