Day 3

Definitely the best day of the holiday so far. I lay dozing in my bunk in the Youth Hostel for some time first thing, until it gradually dawned on me that the patch of brightness on the wall must be sunlight. I got up and went to the door to look out - it was indeed a glorious day, sun shining from a blue sky just streaked with high ice clouds. I hastened back in to wash and have breakfast.

I was away by ten, cycling hard up the steep track that climbed away from the hostel. What I hadn't noticed from my glance out of the door was the strength of the wind, a steady and quite powerful breeze from the south-east - predictably, the direction I wanted to go! Nonetheless, I had only a short distance before my first point of interest, Carloway Broch. A medieval fortified tower, it is one of many in western and northern Scotland, but also one of the best preserved. Circular and double walled, one side still stands to almost its full height while the other has fallen away, conveniently giving a good cross sectional view! It is unsure how much of the purpose of these buildings was defensive and how much they were for show, erected by those with the power to command enough people to build them. Certainly it looked impressive, standing on a mound overlooking the sea loch, the hills of Harris hazy in the distance.

The next stop was Callinish. I had, in fact, seen the famous standing stones here before and so simply admired them from the road, not troubling to go in among them. I hadn't, however, been before in the restored Blackhouse or Tigh Dubh, now functioning as a tearoom - it was a Sunday on my last visit! Although it was still slightly early in the day - not quite twelve - I stopped here for a tasty sandwich and Scotch Broth lunch.

Then it was away on the road. First north-east across Lewis with the wind thankfully from slightly behind, then turning south to head towards Harris. I was unsure how far I would get but was hoping to put as much as possible of the moorland scenery of South Lewis and North Harris behind me to arrive at the beaches on the west of South Harris while the weather was still good. I had several possible bolt holes if the going seemed too tough - Kershader, Rhenigdale and finally Tarbet, although if I arrived there I felt I would be well pleased. In fact, my struggles of yesterday had represented a typical Day 2 syndrome - the nadir of any physical holiday always seems to come at day 2! Today, wind or no wind I was soon into a steady rythm, pedalling away, gears clicking down as I climbed a slope, then up again as I sped down the other side. I was at the turn to Kershader by early afternoon, and stopped at a tiny general stores to buy an ice cream, a few more oatcakes and some cheese. Then I cycled steadily on, passing deep blue lochans rippled by the wind and set in green heather and grey rocks. Eventually I came to the sea again, with stunning views down the fjiord-like Loch Seaforth. And then the mountains were ahead of me. High, far higher than I was going to go, they rose, rock faces omninous shadows in the afternoon sunshine. I stopped at a little bridge for a snack, gazing at the road which I could see climbing obliquely up the hillside in front. And then I set off. Fortunately the hillside itself sheltered me from the wind at first and I was soon up the initial 400'. The last 200', however, were a long slow climb over several miles and here I was fully exposed to the wind, buffeting me from directly in front. The turn to Rhenigdale went off here, and I wondered how anyone could possiby bear to turn down the dead end road and lose all their carefully gained height, knowing that they would have to climb it all again the next morning! Eventually I arrived at the top of the pass and gleefully coasted down the other side. I knew that the worst was over and I began making plans for dinner!

It was still quite early in the evening, six thirty, as I sailed happily into Tarbet. The sun was still warm, the wind at last beginning to drop. I shifted plans again and cycled straight through Tarbet and out the other side. There was once again a climb up away from the village, but the views across the Minch to Skye and the mainland were steadily improving, and I was looking for a place for dinner. Eventually, towards the summit of the road, I found what I was looking for. A sunny but sheltered spot, off the road, with views over a couple of lochans to the sea and beyond. Out came the gaz burner, the chicken and rice, and before long I was hungrily tucking into an excellent meal. Tasty? Well actually, I was too hungry to notice, but I think it was! Certainly it was the best view I think I've ever had over dinner.

Restored by food, it was in my revised plans to cycle on. The last half dozen miles were almost all downhill in the evening sunlight as I approached the gloriously named Traigh Luskentyre. A broad, sandy river mouth, I cycled round to the northen side and set up camp in the dunes. Having already eaten, there was little to do other than lay my sleeping bag on the sand and watch the sun go down.