Tuesday 9th May – South Uist’s South-East Peninsula - 27.9 km, 674 m ascent
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I’d risen at 5:45 am, the sun was shining on Barra, but still hiding behind Easabhal – the hill 2 km NE of the campsite. However, at 6 am it gave me some much-needed warmth – so nice to pitch in a spot that catches the rising sun with the door facing towards it. A cuckoo accompanied sunrise, calling incessantly, with barely time for breath between calls. I took my mug of tea towards the beach but noticed a path opposite the campsite leading around a domed promontory – I followed it, rediscovering the secluded place where I camped in 1975 (when there were no campsites). A magical morning light, calm sea fading from pale baby-blue to merge with the pale blue of the sky in the west, leading my eyes to the pale profiles of Fuideigh (Fuday) and Fiaraidh and the north of Barra, with the hill outline that I followed on Saturday to the southwest and richer greens to the fore; then southwards, between Barra and Eriskay, stripes of azure, and southeast a darker profile of Eriskay and the profile of yesterday’s jaunt. Close before me, clear still waters made the occasional plopping sound between boulders; dark, yellow-brown seaweed swayed gently, with yellow air-sacks glistening in the sunlight on the surface. Looking around I expected to find a curious seal watching me. Instead, I noticed a black and white diver, lazily paddling and diving for a minute at a time; and an oyster-catcher, making an intermittent screech, busily driving itself along with a rapid wing cadence.
Reluctantly, I tore myself away to stoke my internal motors for the day, and as I consumed my muesli, with fresh milk from the Eriskay stores, several electricity company vehicles sped past to disconnect Eriskay’s electricity supply for the day, make necessary improvements and inspire more community conversation. So, as I sat basking in the sun, eating and brewing my decaffeinated ground coffee, I studied the rocky features of Easabhal. The track from the campsite would take me to the nearest rocky corner, and so I drew, in my mind, my route zig-zagging between rocky vertical edges to follow the ridge line upwards.
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| On the SW of Easabhal looking down on Cille Bhrighde (Kilbride) campsite with the hills of Barra beyond. |
A bacon sandwich, a boiled egg, and off I went – 9:00 am – accompanied by warbles ( from warblers), trills from wrens, stone tapping from stone-chats, whirrs from “I don’t know what’s”, dzuddups from “another unknown”, skylark songs, and bleats, electric buzzer sounds and mimicked bird-songs from starlings – all mingling as I passed the dry stalks in the reed beds, while adding my own rhythm section of gravel scrunching. Where the track passing through the gate offered level routes to left and right, I chose to go forward and upwards. I rose through burnt heather and randomly scattered one metre diameter boulders of grey adorned with dry lichens of white, yellow and shades of green. Then reaching unburnt swathes of dry heather, a wheatear stood sentinel on a rock above me, scurrying out of sight. I looked for the white chevron on its rump, but it chose to retreat on foot and hide rather than make a short flight. Above, the rocks were smoothed and blended into the shape of the hillside, and they made easier going for me than the dry heather. How this scene would change through the summer with the milder air and summer rain, small green leaves and purple blooms wafting with pollen and insects, instead of this drab-brown parched bristle-brush. From this point my orchestral accompaniment faded into the distance, to be replaced by the occasional bird call, fast passing bee and the sound of the wind in my ears. Reaching the top at 10:10 am, I surveyed the SE peninsular of S Uist, the glistening waters of the shallow Sound of Eriskay, Barra and its outlying islands, a seascape on each side - east and west - broken only the long receding tongue of S. Uist stretching northwards, with Beinn Mhor standing dominant.
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| Rhoineabhal (left); Easabhal S cairn (centre); Eriskay (behind); Barra (right) |
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After a half hour wandering between the three tops, I set my course (78 degrees) towards Loch na Brathad and Marabhal. Descending through random ragged boulders, the channels in the hill tried to steer me right, but using my compass, I contoured left and circled across and down to maintain my heading, through a lonely hillside of burnt heather stalks until I reached small unburnt heather with grass and mounds of dried sphagnum – white and sulphur yellow like a crystal garden crunching under my boots. I heard the lapping, tuneful ripples of the loch and saw five ponies standing grazing on the opposite side – three white, two brown – and a man working on the peat just in front of them. Turning slightly south, I moved along the edge of the calm, inky-blue waters, looking across them to Beinn Mhor, wisps of pink-purple-grey clouds behind.
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| North over Loch Baghasdail (Boisdale) with Beinn Mhor in the far distance |
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| North over Loch Baghasdail (Boisdale) with Beinn Mhor in the far distance |
After a long chat with the friendly peat cutter – a recently settled resident of Gleann Daill, hailing from Wallasey, via Norfolk with an interest in migrating moths – and a shorter chat with the wary ponies, I climbed straight up Maribhal – a less inspiring domed hill of smoothed boulder; descended down and sweated up on to Cruachin, meeting just one wheatear obligingly posing on a rock and then gliding down to another, displaying its white chevron rump.
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| Ponies by Loch na Brathad |
At 1:00 pm on Cruachin, with a fresh breeze coming from the west, I enjoyed the panorama, following a full 360 degrees from Easabhal, in the east, the village of Dalabrog lying to its north, then Loch Boisedale, Beinn Mhor, with Hecla peeping past, a feint trace of the hills of Skye on the sea horizon, Roineabhal standing closer by to the SE, and then around the S and SW the now familiar outlines of Eriskay and Barra. The top here appears like one rocky boulder constructed from rounded boulders welded together, grey traced with lines of white, like wood grain, and between them peat inset with inky black and dark-ochre pools.
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| Panorama from Cruachan - NW to SE |
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| From Cruachan - Eriskay with Barra beyond |
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| From Cruachan - Eriskay and Causeway with Barra beyond |
Between Cruachin and Roineabhal I crossed a level bog of sphagnum, peat and grass, almost dry now, but showing signs that it would be a saturated, ankle soaking sponge at other times, I found it soft and springy under my feet, but absorbing my force of propulsion. Starting to tire, I made a determined effort to slow my pace and find a new rhythm. Ascending Roineabhal, the gradient increased significantly, so I spiralled up the contours on the left flank, before turning back to spiral onto the ridge and find the trig point, revealing a fine view along South Uist’s southern coast of rocky islets, sandy shallows and pale salmon coloured beaches.
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| Emperor moth, Saturnia Pavonia, near the summit of Roineabhal |
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| From Roineabhal - Eriskay and Causeway with Barra beyond; Easabhal to the right, rising above the causeway |
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| 180 degree panorama from Roineabhal - causeway W, Beinn Mhor N and Rubha Mealabhaig E. |
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