Come the evening, I’m hard-pressed to get to the end of an hour’s TV viewing after the kids have gone to bed without falling asleep. Hence the lack of a blog entry yesterday.
I must try to keep up with it, though. Not on your account, dear reader (if you even exist), but for myself. With my addled memory, this blog is my only hope of recalling where we’ve been, hotels where we’ve stayed, restaurants where we’ve eaten, etc.
So let me waste no time in documenting yesterday’s drive, which took us to the crofting village of Hushinish, where I fell asleep in the car after 20 km of very narrow, winding and undulating roads. While Sarah roamed across the beach with the children in the hammering rain, I reclined my car seat and grabbed forty winks in the dry warmth of the car.
There’s only one way in to Hushinish, so another 20 km of tiring, technical driving was required to get us back to the main road. From there, we drove back to Tarbert for a look around the tiny town and a spot of lunch. It was still pouring with rain as we scouted out a place to eat, which turned out to be the only place in town where one could do so. The one other theoretical place, our first choice, was closed for a wedding. Indeed, men clad in kilts and women in expensive dresses were scurrying along the streets, mercilessly pelted by the rain.
We’d had lunch late in the day and had been further delayed by slow service, so after visiting a couple of shops, there wasn’t a lot of time left before dinner. We drove out to the small island of Scalpay for a quick look around. Scalpay is linked to Harris by a bridge built 13 years ago, which replaced the ferry service.
The day is ever so quickly done around here. It was already time to drive back to Stornoway. On the way, we saw a spectacular rainbow and paused to take photographs. It was one of the best I have ever seen and almost the entire semicircle could be seen in vivid colour.
Today, we finally found time to walk around Stornoway. After collecting our clothes from the local laundrette — we were down to our last underpants and shirt — we ambled into town and began to look around.
I’ve tried hard to like this town, but it has failed to capture my imagination. There’s really very little of interest here. There are few places to stay and few places to eat, although there does exist a half-decent Thai restaurant here. Who’d have thought you’d find that in the Outer Hebrides, one of the most remote corners of the British Isles?
The dearth of eateries reminds me of the Faroe Islands, where eating out also apparently just isn’t done. Perhaps it’s seen as too extravagant or perhaps it simply is too extravagant for local wages.
After lunch at the Stag Tea Room, we left town and drove out to the Gearrannan Blackhouse Village, a set of restored crofter’s cottages, one of which functions as a museum and has a peat-burning fireplace. Others can be rented out as self-catering accommodation.
That was all we had time for, so we returned to Stornoway and had dinner at HS-1, one of the restaurants attached to The Royal hotel.
With that, our time in the Outer Hebrides draws to a close; all too soon, I’m afraid; I would love to stay longer, but would now move to other islands, having gained a good feel for Harris and Lewis.
We have a single digit kilometre drive ahead of us tomorrow. The ferry terminal is almost literally a stone’s throw from our hotel.
In the afternoon, we take the ferry across to Ullapool on the mainland, where we’ll stay just the one night. It’s just somewhere to rest our weary head before we continue our travels.