5 - Barra and Vatersay - Part 4

Barra and Vatersay - Part 4 - Sunday afternoon
Finding a comfortable clifftop seat, 11:10 am was a suitable time for the last remaining chicken thigh, wrapped in tasty bread and with two boiled eggs.  That’s my protein consumed.   Looking up, I noticed a flotilla of small sea-birds. Taking out my binoculars, I identified puffins, seeming to swim with little headway against the waves, following in a line, two or three birds wide, then disappearing from the front of the line, each bird following the one in front of it, until they must have formed an underwater hunting pack, and I imagined them flying beneath the waves using their short flipper like wings. Once they were up I counted at least seventy birds.  

Traigh Siar

Having crossed the beach, Traigh Siar, lying west of the Community Hall, to reach its northern limit, I discovered it was an awkward pull up from the rocks onto the eroded edge of soil and grass above  (easier at lower tide when the sand and rocks give access to the grass further to the west), but from there it was a steady rise up Heiseabhal Mor (190 m) for another panoramic view. From up here, it really stands out how narrow the isthmus is, connecting Vatersay together – a hammerhead with a shaft of green bounded by bright, almost white sand, leading the eye to the southern string of isles, pointing the way to Ireland.

Looking south across Traigh Siar to Sandray, Pabbay and Mingulay from Heiseabhal Mor

90 degree panorama from Heiseabhal Mor - North on the left; North-east centre; East on the right

Towards Castlebay - NE - from the edge of Heiseabhal Mor

At this point I noticed that my camera battery was down to the last bar – one step from empty, so I was heartened to know that I had a good fully charged spare. I set off from the top NW with the beach, Traigh Bhialais, giving me a direction, not a destination, but the best shape of land to descend towards. After passing the rockier, steeper drops on my right, I turned north and then NE to 625967 – not as smooth as the map indicated – lots of stepped drops, large enough to be a nuisance but too small to show on the map contours. (Looking back, the gulley from 626965 towards Caolas looks a smoother descent.) Reaching Caolas and crossing the short causeway back to Barra, I considered the time, my energy and the rising strength of the wind. I decided to follow the single-track road rather than going over Beinn Tangabhal - missing out on visiting the high cliffs with nesting fulmars and guillemots that I remember enjoying in 1975.  

Kreels on Barra, by the causeway to Vatersay

So, with a steady pace, it was up to the Castlebay co-op, left at the junction and down to Tangasdal on the West coast – lapwings flitting up, circling, complaining and landing again; the sandy bay with dunes beckoning, while the white waves and spray on the rocks warned of their hazards. A sole pale blue kite danced energetically over the beach. I rested on the stile to adjust my pack – binoculars packed inside, rubbish taken out and deposited in the bin – then walked through the dunes, sat on the beach and ate a banana with two rounds of bread and ginger jam. 

At 3:55 pm, it was obvious that I would not be reaching the Airdmhor jetty to catch the last ferry of the day (5:30 pm) but decided that I’d like to spend the night close to it, ready for the first ferry on Monday morning. Dry sand was sweeping across the beach like driven rain. A strong wind blowing from the east or south-east told me that this was the most sheltered side of the island, so I walked north wondering where I might find a sheltered pitch. Passing Borve campsite – an exposed spot, perched, almost on a grassy ledge, between road and sea, with no shelter or feature - an ideal spot for a tent to get hoisted off into the sea – I walked on, and observed two rather bland, uninviting beaches, concluding that Bagh Halaman at Tangasdal was indeed the most scenic of these beaches. The road now led me from the west to the east coast, passing the reservoir, with the wind against me veering to the north-east. My next hope was to find some shelter in the woods near Airdmhor. All I needed was a clearish area – 2 m x 1 m – for my pitch, but I could find no area at all that I would be able to clear for my body area to lie on.

Knowing that the passenger waiting room for the ferry at Eriskay stayed open all night, I placed my last hope of a shelter for the night on the same arrangements for the ferry terminal building at this end of the crossing. So, on I walked, in hope of sheltering inside there overnight. As I turned onto the peninsular, towards the ferry jetty, I could hardly walk on just one half of the road, veering side to side with changes in the wind. A sheep with large curly horns started following me very closely – its shadow from behind getting closer and closer – not threatening, more like mistaking me for the person that feeds it – still, not wanting the possibility of a butt in the butt, I shooed it away. Across the 2 km of open sea between the islands the wind was whipping the sea into white caps, the islands opposite rising out of a haze of sea spray, while the sky above remained clear blue. Arriving at the terminal car park at about 7 pm there was a white van with a youngish man moving between a door at the back of the building and the open side door of the van. I could see it was set out for sleeping in, so I assumed he was also going to be waiting there overnight to catch the morning ferry. The waiting room door was unlocked so I chose the firm, solid wood bench furthest from the door for my overnight rest. 7:30 pm, my thighs were seizing up and aching to move, and I was sorting out my meal when the young man came in and we each explained what we were doing. It turned out that he worked on the ferry, one week on, one week off; lived in Glasgow one week and lived in his van by the ferry for the other; a hill-runner rather than a back-pack walker; knows these hills and recommended going from the end of the ferry road (705037), through the gate opposite, ascending Beinn Eireabhal for the benefit of the rocky scenery on top and for the view north over North Barra. He offered me a cup of tea, and then came back with electric kettle, tea bags and milk – leaving them with me for the evening and following morning. Six slices of bread with ginger jam and chocolate spread, two boiled eggs and two mugs of tea, and I felt ready to set out my bedding and contemplate the practicalities of my endeavour. I was thinking:

• Climbing bigger hills than these with a tent, sleeping bag and food for two or more full days was probably not realistic;
• Pitching my 1.5 kg tent on exposed hills, sea on both sides might not be reliable;
• My intended plan, including two or three day stretches, and following the higher, or highest ground, needed reviewing and re-planning.