So this morning, we caught a ferry from Ullapool to Stornaway, a town on the island of Lewis and Harris. The ferry ride lasted for a whole three and a half hours. Apparently, almost all of us slept for most of the journey. We’d spread ourselves out all over the couches on one of the deck. Wish I’d been awake to take a shot of it. It must have been a sight.
The entire area is know as the Hebrides, and the island is actually called Lewis and Harris, but no one actually really knows where Lewis starts and Harris ends or vice versa. The inhabitants of the island is still very much in their own little world, where Gallic is still the main language. In Ullapool, all the signs were written in English, with Gallic written in smaller letters underneath. In Lewis and Harris, all the signs are written in Gallic with English written in smaller letters underneath. So Stornaway is actually spelt
Steòrnabhagh. It truly is like going to a whole new ‘foreign’ country. So, getting back to the Lewis and Harris name, the people of Lewis and Harris still use the ‘old’ way of determining territory: Harris is the flat part of the island, Lewis is the hilly part. Look on any map, and there’s no marked border. Lewis is green, and Harris is coloured white. Amazing huh?
When we got to the island, we went to the Garry Beach in Tolsta. The weather was sublime. Almost as if someone was making up for yesterday. The sky was that perfect blue, there was that cool breeze, it was just mmmm. We stopped by a shop to pick up some lunch, and went and had a picnic on the beach. The most amazing thing? We had the whole place to ourselves. Had stopped by shops to buy picnic lunch. There are caves at Garry Beach that lead out into the ocean, and if you wait for the tide to go out, you could walk through them. Luckily, the tide was out. Believe it or not, I really, really wanted KFC that week and couldn’t bring myself to buy something that plebian (not that there were KFCs around anyway) when I’d come this far out. But when we were at the shops I saw a pack of pre-cooked, spicy chicken drumsticks. Had to get it. And because I was hungry and partly because I couldn’t pack it away… um… I ate about 1.2 kilograms of spicy chicken. Heh heh! All the other girls around me had rolls with trimmed meats, nice cheese, cherry tomatoes, carrot sticks and rocket. No kidding. Not lettuce, rocket. But boy was I smiling. Sun’s out, I’m on a beach that actually had sand, there was no one else around but us, my shoes and socks were off and my pants were rolled up, I had spicy chicken sauce all over my fingers… Mmmm! It was so uplifting. Spoilt rotten year 7s? What year 7s? Leaky roof? What leaky roof? I even got up and kicked the soccer ball around a bit with everyone. Yeah! I know!
So while the other girls rolled up their shirts for a tanning, I went off wandering. There was a small estuary that ran out into the ocean, filled with large rocks. I had to get across it to get to the caves. The tide was coming in and I wanted to see the caves before I lose my chance. So I stuck my foot into the water and started walking across. Oh good god. The rocks were beyond sharp – they were large, slippery, sharp and not fixed. On top of that, the water must have been below zero degrees! But I figured, ah well. There’s only a little bit to go. Lesson learnt: my depth perception isn’t that good. A little bit more turned out to be around 50 metres. Maybe even more. I got halfway and couldn’t figure out whether I should turn back or keep going. Finally made it to the other side, and of course, it had taken me that long to get there that the tide had really started to come in and I couldn’t go into the caves. Took some timed shots though. Decided to walk back the long way on the fluffy grass. That was a mistake. Not only was there sheep poo everywhere, there were these horrendous prickles all over the green! I should’ve just taken my chances with the wobbly rocks and the hypothermia.
Now there was a mass movement by politicians and the like to ‘civilise’ the
Hebrides. But the people resisted. One of these futile attempts involved the building of a bridge and road to link the top of the island together. The bridge was built, but then it just stops. So it’s known as the Bridge to Nowhere. I had to see for myself what Nowhere looked like, so I got my shoes back on and went off on my hike. Turns out there is actually a path that links up the northern part of the island. It’s just that it’s made for mountain goats, that’s all. So anyway, the bridge doesn’t just end, but the road does. So if you had a car, when you get to the bridge, you wouldn’t be able to drive any further because on the other side of the bridge is basically the cliff edge, with a very fine, thin rocky track. You wouldn’t even be able to take a bike on it it’s that rocky. So you could walk, but that’s about it. I walked for a bit, but after yesterday’s experience, decided to turn back. Especially since I didn’t know how much longer we had there.
We went back to Stornaway and, after some time, found the
Heb Hostel. Now this! This was decadent! It had clearly been put together by someone who knows about staying at hostels. All the little things that other facilities don’t usually think about had been catered for: hooks to hang up towels. A bedside lamp. Power points beside each bed. And mirrors! And all so tastefully decorated! I’d definitely recommend it.
We had a nice, civilised dinner at the Caledonian. I really wanted some salad. But ended up with one of those thick salads – you know: potatoes, pasta, cheese sort of salad? I actually really wanted some leafy greens. But anyway. We went to McNeil’s for drinks afterward, but I walked back to the hostel alone and called it an early night. I think ferry rides wear me out.
So this morning, we caught a ferry from Ullapool to Stornaway, a town on the island of Lewis and Harris. The ferry ride lasted for a whole three and a half hours. Apparently, almost all of us slept for most of the journey. We’d spread ourselves out all over the couches on one of the deck. Wish I’d been awake to take a shot of it. It must have been a sight.
The entire area is know as the Hebrides, and the island is actually called Lewis and Harris, but no one actually really knows where Lewis starts and Harris ends or vice versa. The inhabitants of the island is still very much in their own little world, where Gallic is still the main language. In Ullapool, all the signs were written in English, with Gallic written in smaller letters underneath. In Lewis and Harris, all the signs are written in Gallic with English written in smaller letters underneath. So Stornaway is actually spelt Steòrnabhagh. It truly is like going to a whole new ‘foreign’ country. So, getting back to the Lewis and Harris name, the people of Lewis and Harris still use the ‘old’ way of determining territory: Harris is the flat part of the island, Lewis is the hilly part. Look on any map, and there’s no marked border. Lewis is green, and Harris is coloured white. Amazing huh?
When we got to the island, we went to the Garry Beach in Tolsta. The weather was sublime. Almost as if someone was making up for yesterday. The sky was that perfect blue, there was that cool breeze, it was just mmmm. We stopped by a shop to pick up some lunch, and went and had a picnic on the beach. The most amazing thing? We had the whole place to ourselves. Had stopped by shops to buy picnic lunch. There are caves at Garry Beach that lead out into the ocean, and if you wait for the tide to go out, you could walk through them. Luckily, the tide was out. Believe it or not, I really, really wanted KFC that week and couldn’t bring myself to buy something that plebian (not that there were KFCs around anyway) when I’d come this far out. But when we were at the shops I saw a pack of pre-cooked, spicy chicken drumsticks. Had to get it. And because I was hungry and partly because I couldn’t pack it away… um… I ate about 1.2 kilograms of spicy chicken. Heh heh! All the other girls around me had rolls with trimmed meats, nice cheese, cherry tomatoes, carrot sticks and rocket. No kidding. Not lettuce, rocket. But boy was I smiling. Sun’s out, I’m on a beach that actually had sand, there was no one else around but us, my shoes and socks were off and my pants were rolled up, I had spicy chicken sauce all over my fingers… Mmmm! It was so uplifting. Spoilt rotten year 7s? What year 7s? Leaky roof? What leaky roof? I even got up and kicked the soccer ball around a bit with everyone. Yeah! I know!
So while the other girls rolled up their shirts for a tanning, I went off wandering. There was a small estuary that ran out into the ocean, filled with large rocks. I had to get across it to get to the caves. The tide was coming in and I wanted to see the caves before I lose my chance. So I stuck my foot into the water and started walking across. Oh good god. The rocks were beyond sharp – they were large, slippery, sharp and not fixed. On top of that, the water must have been below zero degrees! But I figured, ah well. There’s only a little bit to go. Lesson learnt: my depth perception isn’t that good. A little bit more turned out to be around 50 metres. Maybe even more. I got halfway and couldn’t figure out whether I should turn back or keep going. Finally made it to the other side, and of course, it had taken me that long to get there that the tide had really started to come in and I couldn’t go into the caves. Took some timed shots though. Decided to walk back the long way on the fluffy grass. That was a mistake. Not only was there sheep poo everywhere, there were these horrendous prickles all over the green! I should’ve just taken my chances with the wobbly rocks and the hypothermia.
Now there was a mass movement by politicians and the like to ‘civilise’ the Hebrides. But the people resisted. One of these futile attempts involved the building of a bridge and road to link the top of the island together. The bridge was built, but then it just stops. So it’s known as the Bridge to Nowhere. I had to see for myself what Nowhere looked like, so I got my shoes back on and went off on my hike. Turns out there is actually a path that links up the northern part of the island. It’s just that it’s made for mountain goats, that’s all. So anyway, the bridge doesn’t just end, but the road does. So if you had a car, when you get to the bridge, you wouldn’t be able to drive any further because on the other side of the bridge is basically the cliff edge, with a very fine, thin rocky track. You wouldn’t even be able to take a bike on it it’s that rocky. So you could walk, but that’s about it. I walked for a bit, but after yesterday’s experience, decided to turn back. Especially since I didn’t know how much longer we had there.
We went back to Stornaway and, after some time, found the Heb Hostel. Now this! This was decadent! It had clearly been put together by someone who knows about staying at hostels. All the little things that other facilities don’t usually think about had been catered for: hooks to hang up towels. A bedside lamp. Power points beside each bed. And mirrors! And all so tastefully decorated! I’d definitely recommend it.
We had a nice, civilised dinner at the Caledonian. I really wanted some salad. But ended up with one of those thick salads – you know: potatoes, pasta, cheese sort of salad? I actually really wanted some leafy greens. But anyway. We went to McNeil’s for drinks afterward, but I walked back to the hostel alone and called it an early night. I think ferry rides wear me out.
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