7 - Continuing the Eriskay loop

Monday Afternoon - 8th May – Continuing the Eriskay loop
The shallows, by Calbhaigh Island, at the north east tip of Eriskay was the location where the SS Politician ran aground with its cargo of whisky, giving inspiration for the film ‘Whisky Galore’. That was my next heading – descending E and then ENE along the ridge of lumps – taking a little stumble in lumpy sphagnum, then making for the NW point of Eriskay – ‘Roisinis’ being the name of the cluster of dwellings marked on the map, but no longer with any dwelling place on the ground. Reaching a barbed wire fence, I had to find a post with sturdy side supports to pass it and found another scene where a lamb had been almost totally eaten, with tufts of wool scattered downwind. Just below an expanse of burnt out grass and heather, I flushed out two snipe from the sphagnum and approached what looked like a complete but abandoned house. Getting closer I found that it was an old stone dwelling that had been extended and ‘modernised’ with corrugated iron walls and roof. No access track or path, but remains of 1970’s or 80’s coloured bath and sink with plumbing for running water, a range, a number of old computer monitors, lots of batteries and remnants of a bike and a motorbike. However, the corrugated walls had collapsed along with the iron roof and the interior fittings heaped and jumbled at all angles.

Historic cottage, partially modernised with excellent views and an open aspect, offering opportunities for substantial improvement, Roisinis.

I continued on to the NE point and sat eating cheesy oatcakes, Bombay mix and a Rocky bar, while gannets gave a dazzling display of aerial dive-fishing close to shore.  There was some commotion as three people and a dog wadded across, thigh deep, to the island and ran back and forth across it terrorising the birds and twenty sheep, while oystercatchers gave their familiar alarm calls.  I wondered whether these people were absorbed in their own sense of fun, had any awareness of their impact, or knew when the tide would rise enough to cut off their return.  A black guillemot then appeared close by me, diving and fish hunting.

Beach between Roisinis and the rocky NE point of Eriskay

Returning west, passing several desolate ruins from different eras, I found myself unable to part company with the shoreline and followed the crenelated rock and beach shore towards the causeway.  I removed my wool hat and fleece, tied my lightweight travel towel, as a bandana, over my head for sun protection and realised I was now sheltered from the wind.  Patterns of silver gold sand sparkled through the gentle waves of cyan rippled with deep azure.  Areas of deep navy appeared where seaweed and rocks lay beneath the water.  The ripples were making a cuckoo like call as they spilt through small gaps between rocks along the shore.  South Uist beckoned from across the water – a gentle rounded smoothness of glacially scoured rock formed a mosaic with pale green inlay.  Eventually the barbed wire hurdles placed across my route became too high, so I resorted to the road, which by this stage ran intermittently adjoining the shore anyway.  At the junction I opted to walk through the old village and then along the beach, rather than follow the road past the shop.  It was 3:30 pm and it was getting quite hot.  The air was rather still, and I’d finished all my water.  I exchanged greetings with a lady sitting in front of her house and made a request for water in my bottle.  She kindly ran the tap-water until it was cold, filled my bottle and warned me that "we may lose this fine weather at the end of the week – just as well, or the water might run out, and we’d be having to drink whisky instead."  Refreshed, I followed the beach, and then while taking a photo or two I heard the snorkelling-breathing sound of two seals playing in the close, calm shallows in front of the beach. 

Shoreline recycling

Moving south along the beach I photographed some slow metal recycling taking place in the sand.  With the nearest scrap yard being 200 miles away via a long ferry crossing, vehicles have often been left where they broke down, awaiting rescue, repair or being scavenged for parts – sometime - and if time, money or viability didn’t oblige, they might remain to decay as an interesting or unsightly feature.  The tidy option was to tow redundant vehicles into the sand on the beach where they might descend into the sand and disappear gradually.  Finding a collection of vehicle remnants at the near end of the next beach, I studied engine valve springs and rockers, suspension leaf-springs, steering racks and brake drums, completely failing to identify any type, make or model from the monolithic sculpture of iron oxide melding all components into one conjoined piece.  Then I looked back to see the seals splashing and tumbling over each other; the water across to Barra sparkling and the birds calling all around me.  This beach in front of the village was probably the most attractive that I saw on the island, but the small more isolated beaches by Roisinis (807123) would be in a very close second place.

Walking over the small headland, I descended onto the last beach before the ferry and then, when halfway along, struck up to the road.  I think I’d have been better off going right along the beach.  I’d climbed up to the road and then had to descend to reach the junction before taking the Acairseid road across the small col back to my van.  (Efficiency in walking a route is often a compromise between reducing distance travelled and reducing the amount of ascent and descent.) 

My visit to the Eriskay stores was a cheering and memorable event.  A friendly conversation with another customer loading his shopping, with a high proportion of bottles and then entering to find the electricity was off – no lighting or till in operation while “the generator is being seen to”; staff trying to restock shelves and freezer, obstructing and being obstructed, in equal measure but differing degrees of determination, by customers, some peering into shelves in the dimness, others waiting for the till and blocking the aisles – good natured confusion and a lot of “craik” (joking) going on.  It was almost like a non-contact form of slap-stick comedy.

Near West Kilbride, South Uist, looking back towards Eriskay

My next intended stop was the campsite at West Kilbride – north over the causeway and west along the only road.  However, I was compelled to make a beach-stop to soak in the views back towards Eriskay and Barra, and to compose some photos.  I looked for the ‘Reception’ at the campsite, but some campers told me that the custom here is to help yourself to an unmarked and unreserved pitch and wait for the owner to call by later.  Noticing the slight unevenness of the gravel bays, I realised I’d forgotten to bring the levelling ramps, so I parked diagonally across my chosen bay to achieve my best levelness.  This was the first time on this trip for getting the camper pop-up Viking roof extended and enjoying the sense of space and brightness it brings.

With a cup of tea made, six eggs boiled and my hand well burnt on the saucepan-handle, it was time to think about making a meal.  The six eggs along with six rashers of bacon under the grill were for three days; thin sliced carrots and green pepper ready; water heating over the grill-vent ready for couscous – just as I was anticipating eating in a few minutes time, the campsite owner arrived, so I simultaneously grilled and dangled my hand in cold water and we had a long, enjoyable chat about aging knees, hill-walking in general and these local hills and their features in particular.  £11 for the van and one person seemed pretty fair, but later at the facilities block I was surprised at the plush standard – a warm room, smartly and neatly set out with dining table, sink and drainer, washing machine and tumble dryer within a full run of worktop; and in the gent’s section, three free showers, three loos, urinals and two sinks with hot water.  I am convinced this is the best (and "Best Buy") campsite on all of the Western Isles.

Having a late evening shower, I experienced two problems.  The first was that the lights went out if there was no-one outside the showers to trigger the sensor keeping the lights on.  Thus, I had most of my showering, drying and part dressing in complete darkness.  (My own fault, of course, for being so late.)  The second was that I discovered a slight lump with a central protrusion on the side of my right thigh – on closer examination in the light I identified a tick.  Failing to get it all out with tweezers, I resorted to the use of the point a sharp sterilised needle to cut the skin at the side of the tick, made sure that I removed it all, along with a little skin and blood, then had a long hunt for the Betadine to sterilise the wound.  Getting to bed at about 11:30, a cold breeze was coming through the camper roof, so I put on my down jacket with the hood up inside my sleeping bag and then struggled with the sleeping bag drawstring as it got colder – one of the toggles needed replacing in daylight, probably by taking a less necessary one from elsewhere.