With the van still being knocked about, despite it facing directly into the wind, I got up at about 5 am, and had an early shower; then tried to make sense of the various on-line weather forecasts. The BBC and the Met. Office, as well as some others, suggested weather totally different from each other, and none of them could correctly predict the weather I was getting right at that moment, so I concluded that I could make a more accurate forecast, simply by looking upwind – and that certainly didn’t dispel my sense of despondency. I exchanged a couple of emails with Chris, who encouraged me to wait and to persevere with my trek. Around 9:30 am I detected some slight brightening. The cloud was still touching the ground, but no rain, as such, was falling, so I thought I’d kit-up and try a walk onto the bird reserve – base-layer, long-sleeved-shirt, fleece, down jacket, cag, over-trousers, gaiters, boots – by the time I was ready, the weather had reverted to squalls of driving horizontal rain. Being ready to go out, I went all the way to the loo block and returned to shelter in the van. By 9:50, boredom had won its contest with indecision, so I decided to drive over towards Berneray, on the leeward side of this flattish island.
What I found was some spots of brightness, with the cloud broken apart, as it passed over the slightly higher land, squalls of rain, ‘push-you-over’ wind with stronger gusts, high waves, white-caps breaking on the sheltered waters, and a general feeling that I would not be completing any of my trek unless I skipped on to a section protected by higher hills. I decided to move on to the East of Harris. Walk my way north from there, and then I would return to North Uist later, hopefully after reaching the far north of Lewis.
Sheltered waters - a bright spell and a dry moment while awaiting the Leverbugh ferry from Berneray |
Heading out across the Sound of Harris |
It was an interesting journey – with passenger warnings, particularly emphasising the dangers and special care needed if venturing outside, on account of the strong winds. I stayed outside, as did a few others. Keeping to the lee-side meant it was blowy but OK.
Crossing the Sound of Harris |
Crossing the Sound of Harris - approaching South Harris |
The ferry wove a tortuous course to manoeuvre its way through the various passageways between long lines of rock strata – some showing above the water, others hinted at by the wave patterns, others to be avoided were lurking dangerously hidden.
Approaching Cairminis, Sound of Harris |
Approaching Leverburgh, Sound of Harris |
Leaving Leverburgh, I drove up to the highest part of the little road that passes behind Roineabhal (036885) – what I guessed would be the most protected place on the road. I then set off (about 3 pm) to go up Bhoiseabhal (044873, altitude 374 m). Since I had made a point of climbing in the lee of the hill all the way up, it was quite a contrast to meet the full blast at the top. It felt like putting one’s head out of a car window when doing 70 mph – two walking-sticks required while leaning into the wind at 50 degrees, and great care required not to let the wind get behind my glasses.
Leverbrugh and the Sound of Harris from Bhoiseabhal |
Leverbrugh and the Sound of Harris from Bhoiseabhal |
Loch Langabhat and the central S Harris hills from Bhoiseabhal |
Bhoiseabhal summit cairn and Loch Langabhat |
I returned to the van about 5 pm and re-parked between Loch a’ Gheoidh and Loch Aoghnais Mhic Fhionnlaidh (067874). It was a quiet spot since no-one else used the road all evening, or overnight.
Evening at Loch a' Geoidh |
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