Lewis and Harris, Scotland: A Different Kind of Island Escape

Have you heard of Lewis? The wee island off the northwest coast of Scotland? No?  How about the Outer Hebrides? A string of 200 islands, of which Lewis is the largest? No?

Don’t worry, you’re not alone. Despite the fact that the island of Lewis and Harris was voted the best island in both The UK and Europe by TripAdvisor users last year, I had never really heard of it either.

That was until I had lunch with a family friend one day in Edinburgh. A Scottish native who has been living in Australia for twenty years, my friend was on her way up to Lewis to relax in her family home for a couple of months.

As she told me more about the scenery and the sights of Lewis, I decided that I simply had to visit.

At 5am on a chilly November morning I left Edinburgh and drove to Ullapool – the departure point for the Caledonian MacBrayne ferry to Lewis.

Now, when I say ‘drove’ I really mean that I tried desperately to keep my eyes open in the passenger seat while my traveling companion drove to Ullapool. I’m just not really a morning person… I was awake for most of the journey, including for this lovely view up above the fog that had settled over Inverness.

Photo by Gus

After a power nap in the Tesco car park we were ready to board the two and a half hour ferry to Stornoway – the largest town on Lewis and Harris.

Ullapool - photo by Gus

 If you’re wondering about the difference between Lewis, Harris and Lewis and Harris – the answer is fairly simple (though it took me a little while to figure out!) Lewis and Harris are often referred to as if they are different islands – they’re not. They are separated by a mountain range, with Lewis in the north and Harris in the south. Lewis is mainly characterised by moorland, where Harris is much more mountainous.

Also, if you’ve ever been slightly confused by people referring to the Outer Hebrides or the Western Isles – they’re the same place.

Now that we’re all on the same page, we can continue…

Mairi, our absolutely wonderful host for the next four days, picked us up from the port of Stornoway and whisked us over to the other side of the island to her village, Carloway.

There are a couple of route options to get between the two towns, but the quickest is the Pentland Road which cuts straight across the island through the Pentland Moor. The road is single track and what I would describe as slightly treacherous! You would not catch me on that road in anything but fine weather.

Lewis has an abundance of peat, which has historically been an important source of fuel for the islanders. These days, few people rely it. But some homes do still use peat, as it’s basically free fuel.

Peat has to be cut from the ground into bricks and then stacked in piles so it can dry out to be burned properly. I have heard many stories over the years from people in Ireland and Scotland whose childhood holidays were spent out in the moors cutting peat – by all accounts it is not at all fun!

Mairi told us as we drove past some peat banks along the Pentland Road that there had recently been a story in the Stornoway Gazette about a man who had had his peat stolen. This was clearly considered to be quite a heinous crime. So a note to any of you considering a move to the Western Isles – don’t touch another man’s peat!

We spent most of our time on the west coast of Lewis. It was so, so beautiful. There were plenty of sights and walks to keep us occupied, but at the same time it was lovely that, because of the time of year, there was nothing going on. There were hardly any people around. I felt completely removed from reality there.

Our first sightseeing stop was at the place I most wanted to see – the Callanish Standing Stones. Move over Stonehenge, these stones are AMAZING.

While not as large or famous as the stones in southern England, the Callanish (or Callanais) Stones have an entirely different and, if I may say so, entirely superior atmosphere. There is an indescribable energy to them.

Unlike at Stonehenge, which is now roped off to the public, you can walk amongst and touch the Callanish Stones. Very little is known about them, but they date back approximately 5000 years.  

Examining one of the smaller stones - photo by Mairi

There are nearly 50 stones there of varying shapes and sizes. The largest stone, at the very centre, is about five metres tall. When you consider that in order to still be standing after so long, the stones are probably a third as tall again beneath the ground, the construction of this stone circle is rather mind-boggling.

Where did they get the stones? How did they move them to one site? What were they for? I’ll never know for sure - unless, like Claire Beauchamp, I get transported back in time by some ancient standing stone magic. I placed my hands on a stone and waited for the wind to change…nothing happened. Outlander lied to me.

I’m okay with the stones remaining a mystery though – it adds to the overall aura!

After a dinner and dance that involved far too much alcohol (a theme that would continue throughout our Hebridean escape), we spent our second day exploring the west coast a little more thoroughly.

We stopped by the impressive Dun Carloway Broch (dun meaning ‘fort’). The broch is about 2000 years old and is one of the best preserved of its kind. Half of it stands at 9m, almost its original height, while the other half has crumbled away over time.

It is, remarkably, still very stable, so you are allowed to go inside and have a poke around. I imagine that children must have a pretty great time crawling and climbing around the broch…I certainly did!

Photo by Mairi

Gus and I also did a section of the Lewis West Side coastal walk. We happily wandered from our starting point at the Gearrannan blackhouse village through boggy moors, over a burn or two and past some gorgeous beaches to a lovely little beach named Dail Beag, where Mairi was waiting for us.

Photo by Gus

Photo by Gus

Dail Mor

Dail Beag

That night we went to the local pub - the Doune Braes. This brings me to a rather important lesson I learnt on Lewis: don’t try to keep up with the locals.

The custom at the pub seemed to be that when you went to the bar to buy a round you didn’t just buy drinks for your friends – you got a round for the entire pub. At one point, I had a pint of Ginger Grouse in hand and three lined up in front of me. I have no idea who bought them. When I insisted that I simply couldn’t consume any more liquid I was told that the solution was to move to straight whisky…

My poor mother, who received a late night international phone call from us after our visit to the Doune Braes, will probably back up this advice - I say again: do not attempt to keep up with the locals!

On our final day we drove south, over the mountains, to Harris.

When I was traveling around the UK a couple of years ago, I made a habit of complaining about the rocky beaches. Coming from a country where every beach is covered in golden sand, I couldn’t get on board with having to wear shoes and not be able to comfortably lie down. It’s just not right.  

Exhibit A: Brighton beach

I distinctly remember Mairi commenting on one of my photos saying ‘you need to get up to the Western Isles m’dear…’ I shouldn’t have waited so long to take her advice!

Who would know that you would find such lovely beaches in Scotland of all places? It turns out that Lewis and Harris are famous for their white sandy beaches – and I can certainly see why.

We went to Harris because I wanted to visit Luskentyre Sands, which I had read about in a book at Mairi’s house. It sounded lovely in the description and I was not disappointed - miles and miles of white sand and blue water is what I found at Luskentyre.

The beach seems so endless when you’re walking along it, at times you can see nothing but sand ahead of you and sand behind you.

Photo by Mairi

It was, as you can probably guess from my clothing, not the warmest of days, but I am very keen to go back in the warmer months for a dip! Having said that, I was told by the locals that the water is the same temperature all year – freezing. So perhaps I should have just jumped in anyway!

Photo by Gus

Though it was lovely to visit in November, I can’t wait to go back and experience Lewis and Harris in the summer. It is another world out there, and undeniably more than a bit odd. But it is beautiful in a very unique way and from what I have heard it really comes alive in summertime.

There are so many things left on my must do list for Lewis and Harris, including taking a boat to the island of St Kilda and attempting to befriend a puffin and finally seeing the otter which Mairi promised me lived in the water near her house but eluded me for my entire stay...

So, if you’re on the hunt for somewhere a little bit unusual to visit, I hope I have convinced you that Lewis should be near the top of your list. Oh and be sure to try the famous Stornoway Black Pudding when you're there! It's compulsory! 

Thank you, as always, for reading...

...But quickly before you go - some more of Gus' lovely photos of Lewis and Harris just for good measure! 

 Until next time! 

Ballater, Scotland: Paradise in the Highlands

After returning to Edinburgh for just long enough to do my washing I skipped town yet again - this time heading north to picturesque Ballater in the Cairngorms National Park.

Ballater is the town that serves Balmoral Castle, the Scottish home of the royal family. Balmoral Estate has been a favourite destination of the royals since it was purchased for Queen Victoria by Prince Albert in 1852. That Albert - what a keeper!

In her diary, Queen Victoria referred to Balmoral as 'my dear paradise in the Highlands' and it is not hard to see why. I didn't visit Balmoral itself, but the countryside surrounding it is stunning.

These days, as well as being popular with the royal family, Ballater and its surrounds are a popular destination for walkers, snow sports enthusiasts and tourists alike.

Gus, Yolli and I left Edinburgh for Ballater on Saturday morning. After driving a camper van that averaged 45mph for a week I know Gus was pretty thrilled to be back behind the wheel of his beast of a car. The trip was fairly speedy.

We arrived at the Craigendarroch Hilton (we're so classy) and settled into a very pleasant routine.

Sleep in, breakfast, obsess over unfinished jigsaw puzzles, go for a walk in the lovely countryside, further obsession over jigsaws, dinner, swim, spa, sauna.

It was a pretty fantastic routine.

My favourite pup.

These two!

As well as the very pleasing scenery, Ballater also had an abundance of cute wildlife. Most notably, our lodge always had red squirrels scampering around it. I had never seen a red squirrel before - they're so much nicer than their murderous grey counterparts! One morning there was a squirrel using it's tail as an umbrella and it was pretty much the most adorable thing ever.

I had a lovely couple of days with my Scottish family. It was, despite the rising panic about missing two weeks of uni, very relaxing. Sadly, I had to return to Edinburgh after just four days to hit the books. Or, more accurately, to avoid the books like the plague and tour Edinburgh's quality drinking establishments instead.

But let's not talk about that.

So much love.

The Highlands, Scotland: The Magic of the Scottish Countryside

The Highlands and Islands of Scotland are magical. No other word so perfectly describes them. Gorgeous lochs, cascading waterfalls, bubbling burns, quirky Scottish pines, rolling hills of orange heather. I could go on. And I will.

In the last week of October Gus and I hired a campervan and drove north for a Highland adventure. We covered an impressive distance over seven days - driving all the way up to Ullapool, down the coast to Kyle of Lochalsh, all around the Isle of Skye, then winding our way back down to Edinburgh.

Several people lately have commented that I seem to spend no time at all in Edinburgh, choosing instead to gallivant around the countryside. This is somewhat true, and hopefully after reading this post you will understand why.

- I'd like to make a quick note of the fact that about a third of the photos in this post are not mine - I borrowed them from Gus -  

We picked up our campervan on a Friday. I had never seen this particular campervan before, but was suitably impressed when I started to explore all of the nooks and crannies. I’m not joking when I say that it was better equipped for living than my flat. Comfy beds, shower, gas stove, and heating – all of the mod cons! I had Iggy Azalea’s ‘Fancy’ stuck in my head for most of the day. I came to love that van, and the sometimes-dodgy Sat Nav (shaky Jennifer) more than I ever expected.

Part way through the trip I declared ‘this is the life Gus!’ and he responded ‘I know, and we found it fifty years early’.

I don't care that I don't currently have a real job. I want to retire right now and buy a camper van.           

I can't say that we had much of a plan for where we were going at any point, so I would sit with the map and read out anything that sounded potentially interesting. It was a system that worked well for us, which is frankly quite surprising considering my poor map reading skills. 

Our first stop was at the Falls of Bruar. The falls are hidden away behind the House of Bruar, a well-known and very expensive Scottish store, which is visited by hundreds of tourists each day. Sadly, I don’t think many of them venture past the cashmere hall – they have no idea what they’re missing.

The short walk up to the falls takes you across two lovely old bridges and through some lovely woodland. We were concerned that so late in the year we would miss the autumn colours. We need not have worried. 

‘Just look at the COLOURS’ became my trademark line for the trip.

Next we made our way up to the tiny town of Carrbridge, just outside Inverness, to visit the bridge of the same name. Also known as the Old Packhorse Bridge, the Carrbridge was built in 1717 and was the only way to cross the River Dulnain.

Now I love this bridge, but look at it, can you imagine taking a horse over that thing? Terrifying, I know. Apparently it did once have sidewalls, but still!

After scooting around Inverness we were beginning to lose light so began the hunt for our first camping spot. We were quite proud at the end of the trip that we managed to avoid staying in any actual campsites at any point – we were too adventurous for that.

I will admit that the first night we spent parked in a forestry commission I found it more than a little creepy. The thought ‘no one to hear you scream’ popped into my head more than once. I got over that quickly though.

Day two took us up to Ullapool, home of the Caledonian MacBrayne ferry to the Isle of Lewis. Sadly, Lewis was not our destination this time – but look for a future post!

Backtracking slightly, we decided to take the Wester Ross (GoT fans – say that out loud) Coastal Route down to Kyle of Lochalsh. The route took about a day and a half and was gorgeous.

We stopped in at the spectacular Falls of Measach, which we actually drove past at first, then decided we should probably turn back as there were quite a few people stopped there. Gosh were we glad we did! On the walk down we pondered how big the falls would be. The same size as the Falls of Bruar? Maybe a little bigger?

Then we heard the rumbling. The Falls of Measach are in a slot-gorge, a very narrow, steep sided chasm, and have a drop of 45m. 

It was quite something. There is a suspension bridge over the gorge that gives a wonderful, but impossible to capture, view of the falls.

Next stop was at Little Gruinard Beach – the first of many gorgeous Scottish beaches I have now seen. We were quite blessed with sunshine on this particular day. The sun would emerge at each stop for just enough time to have a little explore, then the rain would start falling as we left.

It’s a shame that luck didn’t hold out for the whole trip.

 

We took cute selfies throughout the trip with our cute van. Get ready for a lot of this. 

We spent our second night in Shieldaig – an adorable wee fishing village right on the coast.

The very nice people of Shieldaig had made a small field available for campers making their way down the Wester Ross route. It was perched right on the edge of a cliff, facing out into the ocean. A lovely spot, truly.

Little did we know a relentless three-day storm was about to sweep across the west coast of Scotland, making a cliff with no protection from the elements a pretty dodgy place to hunker down for the night!

We gave up on the campsite at 1am after being shaken awake by the wind. Although I knew that the van probably couldn’t actually be blown over, it was still fairly terrifying weather. So we drove a little way back into town and took refuge next to a church…that’s what churches are for, right? To provide sanctuary and whatnot?

We continued through Westeros on our third morning, successfully avoiding any bloody battles or family feuds. The only evil blond around was Gus, who had by now developed a habit (which he is yet to kick) of gleefully making fun of my accent at every opportunity.

We also possibly encountered the worst weather that day. We didn’t pass a single river that hadn’t broken its banks, roads were flooded and it was just generally pretty disgusting. Powerful winds buffeted us around endlessly and the rain was on a mission to soak us from every direction.

I heard a saying not too long ago about the unpredictability of the weather in Scotland – ‘if you’re not happy with it, just wait four minutes’. Well we waited all day, and I didn’t get any happier!

There were highlights to the day though. I submitted an essay (yes, I do sometimes do uni) and, much more enjoyable, we got to spend the afternoon with Mama and Papa Gus. By a nice coincidence Gus’ parentals had spent the night not far from us. It was a little worrying to find out that they had left the Isle of Skye ahead of schedule to get away from the ghastly weather, as Skye was where we were heading.

Mostly undaunted by the weather warning, we continued to Skye that evening. The Skye Bridge has connected Skye to the mainland since 1995. As a result, it’s quite easy to forget that you’re on an island. It has also made Skye the most touristy island, but thanks to both the weather and it being the off-season there weren’t too many people around.

Gus’ mum told me a little bit of the history of the Skye Bridge, which I found very amusing. The bridge, built to combat long queues for the ferries, was expected to have a toll of about 40p upon opening. The toll actually ended up being just over £11, so the locals simply refused to pay it. Some would take the fines and never pay them. Others would drive their cars to the tollbooths, park them, and walk the rest of the way. This went on for years, with locals receiving heavy fines and some being sent to prison, before the toll on the bridge was finally abolished. It has been free since 2004.

We ended up doing quite well out of the weather really. We had one wild, wet day and one day of sunshine. Of course the wild, wet day was the one we decided to go for a little hike up to the Old Man of Storr.

The walk up the Storr is one of the most popular on Skye. On this particular day there were few people mad enough to be out attempting it.

Something you probably all know about me is that I don’t make a habit of leaving the comfort of the indoors to brave any serious elements. But I had seen some of Gus’ pictures of the Old Man and really wanted to see it for myself.

So we rugged up, donned out waterproofs and off we went. One of the most memorable things about the walk was the wind. I have never experienced anything like it. It was deafening, cold and extremely unbalancing!

Ready.

Some people have sure feet - they bound up rocky inclines, down muddy trails, over crevasses and through rivers without missing a beat. By ‘some people’ I of course mean Gus. Some people, like me, have distinctly unsure feet.

Partly due to the scenery, but mostly due to this contrast – doing that walk with Gus made me think of the scene in the Lord of the Rings where Gimli and Legolas are tracking the hobbits through Rohan. You know the bit. Where Legolas is gracefully running along and Gimli is trailing along behind, puffing away, shouting ‘we dwarves are natural sprinters!’

You get the picture.

So Gimli.

We made it to the top and it was really quite amazing. The Old Man of Storr is a 50m pinnacle of basalt that dominates the view from all around. So I’m told anyway, it was impossible to see much more than the base of it through the fog. But I swear, after much slipping, sliding, crawling and huddling, I did get to it.

See the following pictures of me looking thrilled as evidence.

My jacket couldn't cope with the wind at all. Very flattering.

Trying not to get blown over...

I don't know what I'm doing here... 

Great view of the surrounds. 

The Old Man himself.

Celebratory I-made-it-up-and-back-without-falling-down selfie.

The walk up the Storr may not sound like fun during a storm, and I may not look like I was having the time of my life, but it was fantastic. It was one of the highlights of the trip!

After returning to our lovely van, changing into dry clothes, warming up with hot soup and laughing smugly at very wet walkers returning to their cars, we continued to make our way around the northern loop of Skye.

We got completely soaked once again at the Mealt Falls lookout, took a wander up to Duntulm Castle and generally enjoyed the gorgeous views that Skye has to offer.

What a helpful sign.

Duntulm Castle.

Such a tourist. I love seeing phone boxes in the middle of nowhere.

The western loop of Skye is also beautiful, and was made even more beautiful by the first sunshine we had seen in days! We woke on our fifth day to the sound of silence, rather than the sound of rain bashing down to which we had become accustomed. The storm had finally blown over to the mainland, where it would continue to wreak havoc for days to come.

Pretty Portree - our home for two nights. 

We chased sunshine all day – up to Dunvegan, across to Neist Point – the most westerly point of Skye, down to Sligachan and eventually back across the Skye Bridge.

There is a very odd, slightly eerie lighthouse at Neist Point, a tiny finger of land that juts out from the western coast. At some point it had been converted to private accommodation, but then seemingly abandoned in a hurry. All of the beds and paperwork and equipment had just been left there. Eventually people just started breaking in…

From there we spent the day making our way towards the Cuillen Hills. Each turn in the road providing a new, stunning view. It was a truly lovely road.

We stopped off at the Old Bridge at Sligachan for a couple of photos. The bridge was very nice, but it was the river and the backdrop of the Cuillen Hills that made this spot so spectacular.

Our final stop on Skye was at an impressive waterfall just off of the main road. We had a quick climb to the top, I nearly lost my wellies once or twice but it was good fun.

The mud over here can be so deceptive – it looks solid and then it swallows half your leg! Another challenge for uncoordinated folk!

The Isle of Skye is completely gorgeous; it is well worth a visit if any of you make it to Scotland. The countryside goes from barren amber to vibrant green, dramatic cliffs to black beaches and blue water bays. Just amazing.

Looking for a spot to park for the night back on the mainland we drove halfway up a huge thickly wooded hill in pitch darkness before finding somewhere suitable. By this point we had developed quite a knack for picking the best camping spots. This is the view that greeted us in the morning. Not bad, eh?

Day six was undoubtedly the highlight of the trip for both of us. Following the recommendation of a friend, we had always planned to visit Loch Hourn. We had ummed and aahed over it a couple of times, but in the end we did it. I can’t express how glad I am we did.

The road past Loch Quoich to Loch Hourn is a narrow, windy track that is not really designed for camper vans. It took us most of the day to get all the way down it and all the way back – but it was a day well spent.

The leaves were falling so the road was covered in red and gold foliage. It was a perfectly still day so the water was like a mirror, providing spectacular reflections.

Along the way we were lucky enough to spot more than a dozen stags and a couple of doe. I love deer. I just think they are the most magnificent, majestic creatures. The doe were quite skittish, but the stags were more than happy to continue munching away on grass while we sat admiring them. It was amazing.

When we finally reached Kinloch Hourn it was breathtaking.

We have agreed that our only regret of the trip is that we didn’t get to spend more time here. I wish I could have spent a week exploring and taking in the views. Sadly, we could only stay a short time.

In that short time though, it was decided that we should go for a swim. The decision to jump in probably took longer than that swim itself, and I’m pretty sure that in the end Gus, whose idea it was in the first place, only went in because he didn’t want to be shown up by a girl!

'It's not actually that cold...'

'Looks pretty damn cold...'

I cant tell you how cold the water was – it took my breath away instantly and I could feel my body entering major freak out mode by the time I swam out to the buoy, which we had decided was our goal, and back. It may not look that far, but in water that cold it certainly felt it!

Though arguably quite silly, it was a very invigorating swim. I would do it again in a second!

After we dragged ourselves away from the beautiful loch we drove to Glenfinnan Viaduct via Fort William.

Fort William seemed like a pretty depressing place to me. I didn’t see a single person in the whole town smile…we didn’t feel the need to stop and look around.

I was soon smiling like a fool though because we were on our way to one of my favourite filming locations. For anyone who doesn’t recognise this viaduct, it has featured in several of the Harry Potter films. Isn’t it just magnificent?

A train went over while we were there, but it wasn’t the Hogwarts Express and it didn’t stop for me anyway. Sigh.

After chasing a beautiful sunset west past Loch Eilt and Loch Ailort we finally found somewhere to stop for the night. It was quite the task because unlike up north, where the cute towns give you a whole field, any empty land down here had a big angry ‘no overnight camping’ sign warning us off.

But we managed to find a good spot in the end, as always.

We paid a brief visit to Mallaig the next morning and then reluctantly turned south – the start of the long trek back to Edinburgh.

Along the way we stopped at An Caisteal Tioram – the Dry Castle. Before we decided whether to bother braving the flooded road to get there, Gus asked me if I liked abandoned castles. This question really stuck with me.

The Dry Castle was built in the 1300s. My hometown in Australia just celebrated its centenary. Whether or not I like abandoned castles isn’t something I had ever really had to think about!

I can now confirm that I do like abandoned castles. The only problem with this particular castle was that you had to cross a tidal causeway to get to it and, of course, the tide was in.

Am I going to make it?

No. 

But what can you do at times like these but take your wellies and socks off and just get on with it?

That afternoon we made our only truly poor decision of the whole trip - the decision to quickly zip out to Ardnamuchan Lighthouse. Our sat nav, the usually reliable Jennifer, told us it wouldn’t take too long.

She lied.

It took hours. Hours on Scotland’s worst road. It was bumpy as anything and there was nothing but sheep to look at. The worst part of it was that the lighthouse was probably the least interesting one we saw. I didn’t even take a photo.

That aside, the rest of the day was nice. We visited Resipole Studios, a lovely little gallery with some lovely works (including some by our very own Mr Gus), and then moseyed on across to the Corran ferry.

We also stopped briefly on the way at little wildlife lookout. Scottish wildlife is amazing. After seeing plenty of deer, highland cows and different birds, I had decided I wanted to see an otter. I love otters. They’re so damn cute.

Sadly, I didn’t have any luck, but we did see a big, fat, happy colony of seals – so that was an acceptable substitute.

We got the wee Corran ferry, which only takes about five minutes but cuts out a substantial amount of driving, and made camp along the very pretty Loch Leven.

Our final day was a slightly depressing one. It’s always hard to get excited about going back to work or uni after a lovely holiday, but there were some lovely sites to see yet.

It was a beautiful drive south through Glencoe and the Trossachs National Park, past the stunning Kelpies at Falkirk and back on into Edinburgh.

Missed the memo about trying to look cool...

Take two...

The Falls of Dochart

I was sad to be back in Edinburgh after such a fantastic week away, but not to worry – I was convinced to ignore uni for a little longer so there was another road trip coming up a mere 20 hours later. More on that next time!

If you made it all the way through this post I’m very impressed and grateful – thank you for reading. I hope I have inspired some of you to explore the Highlands one day. Photos don’t do justice, you really must come and discover Scotland for yourselves.