The Small Isles

[billplumtree]

Having been out of action for the past 2 years, I was looking for a nice gentle tour to ease myself back into it.  No enormous distances, or big hills, but without skimping on scenery either.  's obvious, innit.  Small Isles.  Muck, Eigg, Rum, Canna.  There's 5 miles of road on Eigg, and about the same of off-road rideable track, and a lot less on all the others put together;  the highest track on Rum tops out at 250m.  Even in my present reduced state I could manage that.  In fact, I could afford to carry luxurious(-ish) stuff I wouldn't otherwise: heavier camera kit, tripod, bigger tent, extra sleeping bag 'cos it's always cold in Scotland at this time of year.

Fri 27 May

So, CalMac timetable deciphered  (Have you seen the Small Isles timetable?  Convoluted isn't the word.  Two people, independently, told me they were reduced to phoning CalMac to confirm their understanding of it) and Pendolino bike-bookings surmounted (sigh), and after a short ride to Kendal New Walter and I were on the train north with an entirely fortuitous forecast of magnificent weather already raising hopes for the gitness level.


Heading north

The journey was uneventful, although Glasgow Queen Street station was a bit chaotic.  The upper level seems to be being entirely rebuilt, so all trains are using the two low-level platforms - instead of the usual relaxing cup of coffee next to the platform, we ended up in the bowels of the station


Glasgow Queen St station

And instead of having plenty of time to load bike and luggage, we had a couple of minutes - that's to get the bike on and hanging from its dangly hook, and two trips with assorted bags left on the platform.  Not that that's stressful at all, oh no, no, no.  So when a big tour group barged onto the platform a few minutes before the train was due and stood right in front of me+bike+pile of bags - well, some of 'em now have more of an appreciation of how many sticky-out bits there are on a bike.  And, while I'm moaning: No, people, cycletouring really is not as toe-curlingly brave as you think it is.  It's as easy as, oh never mind.

The lovely, lovely ride up the West Highland line to Fort William was up to the usual standard, and the encore to Mallaig - well, what can you say?  Bloomin' gorgeous.  I hopped off at Arisaig at about 5.30 pm - there's a string of campsites along the old Back of Keppoch road from there, and I planned to stay at one of those.  That plan looked in danger of falling through when every single one of 'em had Site Full notices up, so at Camusdarach I tried the "Onna bike, just a tiny tent" line.  I've stayed there before, they're nice folk and they didn't let me down this time.  Big up for Camusdarach campsite.  Maybe next time I won't travel on the Friday of a bank holiday weekend with a forecast heatwave...

Couldn't find the Smidge that I'd carefully packed somewhere handy, so put the tent up in a cloud of midges and got a bit chewed by them (then found it, obvs).  Pasta inna mug for tea, in the sanctuary of the tent, then a quick walk down to the beach


Camusdarach

Drizzle drove the midgies away, though not unfortunately the screaming children.  Four lads arrived late, in a chavved-up Golf, and began their barbie at around midnight.  And you know what?  I'm still lovin' it.  Two years out is a bloody long time.

Total riding for the day: a heady 14 miles

[billplumtree]

Sat 28

Lovin' it slightly less this morning, as one of the chaveed-up Golf lads turned out to be a snorer.  But it's still good, I'm moving on today, and being wide awake and getting up at 6 am just means that I'll be in Mallaig all the sooner and be sure of getting a ticket for the ferry.

So I was fuelled up, packed, tent still wet as it was, and away by 8, leaving the bleary-eyed children in their dalmation-spotted onesies behind and off up the old road to Mallaig.  Morar was peaceful, with the by-pass taking what little traffic there was at this time of morning.  Lichenous fenceposts testified to the clarity of the air,


Fencepost lichen, Morar

and the sun was already high in a clearing sky


Loch Morar

Into MLG by 9, I bought my ticket for the Eigg ferry first.  The harbour was already busy, with queues of cars for the Skye ferry, and those turning up without tickets were being told that the ferries were booked up for the rest of the day and they should either book for one tomorrow or make the 3 hr drive round by the Skye Bridge.  With my own booking in the bag, I then spent a pleasant few hours on a delightful sunny day doing the classic Mallaig mooch - I mean, I can't be the only one, surely?  Watching boats come and go, coffee, paper, boats, chips, boats,...


In Mallaig harbour


CalMac!

Eventually, it's time to board the tiny Loch Nevis ferry.  Entertainingly, cars & vans have to reverse on, which I suppose makes her a RERO ferry.  Busy, an'all;  I don't know if they were turning folk away, but it must have been close.  Today's route is round all the islands, Eigg-Muck-Canna-Rum, so some are going further than Eigg and some aren't getting off at all but are just on for the non-landing cruise.  I can think of worse things to do on a sunny afternoon in MLG.

[billplumtree]

First stop Eigg, and off the boat into all the intense hustle and bustle that the ferry arrival entails.  Relatively speaking, obviously.  I didn't need the wee shop as I'd already stocked up, or the bike hire (likewise), and I resisted the bar.  There was nowt else, so I headed off to the campsite.  The ferry docks at Galmisdale, in the SE corner of the island;  Eigg Organics campsite is at the NW end, 4 miles away, so to get there I'd be riding over almost the entire road network on Eigg.

Even with a humongous load, it was over in no time.  A swine of a climb out from the bay, over a plateau with views back to the mainland, a plummet down to Cleadale at the other end, and that was it.  The site is wonderfully situated, high up above the sea with a view across the Sound of Rum,


Eigg Organics campsite - view of Rum

and below the distinctive cliffs of the northern end of Eigg,


Eigg Organics campsite - view of Beinn Bhuidhe cliffs

Flat pitches are a tad hard to come by, but hey.  Location, location, location.

I pitched and ate, then wandered down to the beach and along the shore, looking for some geology


Geode(?), Laig bay


Concretions, Laig bay

and stayed out rather later than I'd planned watching the sun set over Rum


Yet another Rum sunset

Mileage for the day: 9.  Even less than yesterday, but a few miles walked too.

[CrinklyLion]

You know what I'm going to say. don't you? 












Will there be bridges?

[billplumtree]

You know what I'm going to say. don't you? 

Yep.

Will there be bridges?

Ah - no, that's not what I was expecting you to say!  Modom already has bridges, in her very own eponymous thread.  Those were the first ones I posted - I know teh rulez...

[billplumtree]

Sun 29

I'd walked a lot further than I planned yesterday, and was late to bed, so - in the absence of screaming dalmation onesies - I slept well, and reluctantly got up around 8 to a gorgeous day, the cloud just clearing from Rum.  Sat out in the warm sun having breakfast, then walked the mile or so to Camas Sgiotaig, the Singing Sands beach, across the great green bowl of Cleadale below the cliffs


Cleadale, Eigg

Inevitably, there had to be a fine view of Rum from above the beach


Rum across the sound

and the odd bit of geology to look at on the beach


On Singing Sands beach


Camas Sgiotaig, Eigg

That burdensome task out of the way, it was back to the tent for a cheese and oatcake lunch and a general loll about for a bit.

[billplumtree]

I do have form for poking around in abandoned Hebridean crofts, so the fact that there was a Museum of Crofting Life in Croft 6, an old blackhouse literally next door to the campsite, was a very happy find indeed.  Not that there was much formal museum-ness about it: it is, effectively, a minimally-managed but actively-preserved not-altogether-completely-abandoned croft.  There's a sign outside saying Open, which appears to be permanent.  No-one there, just a key in the lock, and you're asked to lock it after you to keep the sheep out.

That afternoon just flew by.


Bedroom, old croft, Eigg I


Bedroom, old croft, Eigg III


Bedroom, old croft, Eigg II


Hallway, old croft, Eigg


Attic bedroom, old croft, Eigg


Living room, old croft, Eigg I


Garden, old croft, Eigg

I eventually tore myself away.  Tea and a leisurely evening by the tent, then nipped down to the beach just to watch the sunset under a clear sky at around 10pm


Sunset over Rum from Eigg I

Miles ridden today: 2, in nipping down to the beach...

[L CC]

Well, she might not be predictable, but I am...


Git.

[billplumtree]

You are    Knew you'd be along at some point

[Deano]

Great stuff, Bill - I stayed ay Camusdarach a couple of years ago and they were lovely - the dotty old dear told me they were full, but just as I was leaving to try and find some space somewhere (I'd already ridden 100 miles and chased a stray dog off the roads near Arisaig - I was knackered), but the site owners chased me down and told me to pitch wherever I wanted.

[Jaded]

I think on the Git scale, this is a 9.

[CrinklyLion]

Yebbut... he hasn't finished yet!

[billplumtree]

Mon 30

Set the alarm last night for 0415 this morning, 'cos I wanted to catch the early light on Rum.  Just nip out of the tent at dawn, take a quick snap and back into the snug and warm again; how hard could it be?  Well, the principle was fine, but my timing was a bit off :-/  I had to hang around for nearly an hour, waiting for the light to arrive and gradually getting colder and colder in the pre-dawn...  Got there in the end though,


Dawn light on Rum

Then I went back to bed and slept through until almost 9.  While I had my ridiculously late breakfast, the other 4 campers packed up their 2 tents and left for the ferry in the owner Neil's pickup.  It seemed to be part of his working day, meeting the ferry to collect or deliver campers, bothy inhabitants, yurt-dwellers or other guests.  Visitors aren't allowed to bring cars onto any of the islands (one of their great attractions), so residents pickups are in big demand.  There's also a taxi - which is, incongruously, an actual black cab, driven by a friendly bloke, in a stetson, called Charlie.

So I waited until the ferry traffic (the pickup, two taxi trips, and I'm sure I saw another car go past) died down, then headed off towards the other end of the island.  By bike!  There's a track around the south end, to Grulin, an old long-abandoned township, which I thought would be rideable, plus I wanted to get some fresh milk and the like in the shop at the pier.  Up the steep ramp out of Cleadale then, and across the plateau, past the primary school and the former post office in the centre of the island.  I picked up the track as it forked off to the right, fortunately without losing too much height by that point, and headed off below An Sgurr and round to its less fashionable south side


An Sgurr, Eigg, from the Grulin track

The track was perfectly rideable on Walter: he's a sturdy chap with 26" wheels, discs and 1.5" tyres, but I'm sure Uncle Peter would have managed happily on 25mm.  The old Grulin bothy was, I believe, tarted up by Keith Schellenberg, the somewhat controversial one-time owner of the island (now famously - big cheer - community-owned),


Grulin bothy and Muck beyond

It being well past lunchtime, I turned here and headed back to Galmisdale bay, taking the steep shortcut directly down to the pier rather than going all the way back to the road.  Which was a good move, scenically speaking, since it took me past Galmisdale House directly below the Sgurr


Galmisdale House below An Sgurr

Lunch was a baked spud and a pint in the cafe bar, taken sat outside by the sea in the hot sun, and was delicious.  Highly recommended.  I sat there for a while, watching boats.  The lifeboat arrived at one point, at speed.  Apparently someone had collapsed with heatstroke, and been found semi-conscious: a first responder attended and called in the lifeboat to get her to - I dunno, Mallaig?  Fort William?

I carried on boat-watching, and the afternoon ferry arrived


At the pier, Eigg

In fact two of 'em arrived.  The timetable had two visits to Eigg today, 5 hours apart, so a lot of folk took the opportunity of a day-visit.  So many folk that CalMac called the 'spare' ferry, Loch Bhrusda, into service, and the two were shuffling about taking it in turns to get to the pier


L Nevis and L Bhrusda, dancing

While the first ferry loaded, I had a ride round the bay to the unofficial campsite where 5 tents were pitched right next to the sea.  No facilities, use the toilets (and shower) at the pier 5 mins walk away.  It looked rather pleasant - certainly didn't have the views that I did, but there was otoh more boat action. 


The pleasingly-symmetrical L Bhrusda

Back to the pier, did my shopping, and bumped into Neil in the shop who kindly told me to just bung it in the back of the pickup rather than carry it myself.  Which I did.  A leisurely ride back, tea (ratatouille & couscous, peach slices and rice pudding - well, I've ridden a long way today), and a lazy evening sat in the tent in the full sun and out of the buffetting wind,


View from the tent

Mileage: 8 on-road, 4 off-road.  Off-road miles, like winter ones, count double, so 16 miles for the day.

[perpetual dan]

Mileage: 8 on-road, 4 off-road.  Off-road miles, like winter ones, count double, so 16 miles for the day.

Here's a tour I can relate to!
Great stuff, and as ever, pictures to fuel my envy.

[billplumtree]

Tue 31

Mmm, that buffetting wind.  Kept up all night, and even intensified its buffets, so despite an early night I didn't get much sleep.  The wind seemed to come in discrete lumps: the rushing in the trees upwind gave a second or two's warning of each lump, and you'd brace yourself for it hitting the tent.  I'd planned another early morning, but around 1am I gave up and switched my alarm off and eventually slept in until 9.

I did have to leave the tent briefly early on, having not had the foresight to keep an empty milk carton handy, which at least had the bonus of catching the early light on Bidein An Tighearna, the Finger of God immediately behind the campsite,


Bidein An Tighearna, god's finger I

which later on, in full sun, looks like this:


Bidein An Tighearna, god's finger II

I'd earmarked the morning for derelict croft photos.  Not only was there an actual Museum of Crofting Life right next door to the campsite, but I'd also scoped out a genuine, non-museum non-preserved honest-to-goodness derelict abandoned croft only a laal bit further down the road.  Very much in the style of those I'd photographed on Harris and Lewis, simply walked away from and the door tied shut with string.


Abandoned croft, Eigg I


Abandoned croft, Eigg II

At some point, unfortunately, the door hadn't been tied with string:  hence the sheep's skeleton in the back bedroom.  A couple of the windows were out too, and a few house martins had found their way in and nested, and the second law of thermodynamics was generally being enacted.  So, all in all, a bit further gone than I'd have liked - but hey, let's not be fussy about these things eh?  It still holds, and will for a while yet (I made sure I tied the door up again), some wonderful scenes, sharpened in places to the most poignant point.


Bedroom, abandoned croft, Eigg


Sideboard, abandoned croft, Eigg


Gas lamp, abandoned croft, Eigg


Attic bedroom, abandoned croft, Eigg I


"Bedroom Image" duvet box, abandoned croft, Eigg


Attic bedroom, abandoned croft, Eigg III


Abandoned croft, Eigg III

[Jaded]

A wonderful eye, and a wonderful record.

Thank you.

[Canardly]

Wonderful.

[billplumtree]

An enjoyable and productive morning, then.  Back to the tent for lunch, eaten while gazing up at god's finger again and thinking it must be a great viewpoint...  I knew there was a path along the clifftop, but wasn't aware of a way onto it other than trekking right the way to one end or other of the cliffs.  Scanning the ground below the cliffs, however, revealed something that might just be a zigzag path heading up behind the finger.  And, an oatcake or two later: Yes!  Two people, descending that very path.  Blimey, how lucky was that?

While I continued with my lunch, they disappeared from view behind an intervening slope, which was a bit annoying cos I couldn't then see where the path came down to the road.  So I snaffled the last oatcakes up and headed off down the road to look for them.

The handy thing about there being hardly anyone about: they weren't difficult to spot.  They were, very obviously, the ones sitting in Charlie the taxi driver's garden having tea and cake;  couldn't possibly be anyone else.  And so it turned out - a very pleasant German couple, who confirmed that the path did indeed wind its way up behind the finger, and described where to find the start.  Just past the post box,


Island life

Sensible, eh?  Post is collected an hour before the ferry.  And, presumably, delivered an hour or so after the ferry.  Path located, I headed upwards at a fairly sharp angle.  And it was well worth the trouble, a delightful mountain path zigging and zagging through a hillside tinted indigo by swathes of bluebells, studded with primroses, orchids, patches of heather.  My cuckoo was in constant attendence, as it had been since I arrived on the island (I think the Scottish Tourist Board have a stock of 'em, trained up; each time a visitor arrives off the boat, they get a cuckoo assigned to them for the duration of their visit.  I was expecting to be handed a feedback form, Rate My Cuckoo, when I got on the boat to leave), and a bunch of corbies near the top,


Corbie

The path did, as promised, wind up and onto the cliffs close to and round the back of god's finger,


God's finger, Rum

which I suppose makes this the back of god's hand (oh, that brings back memories.  "Pack that in now, or you'll feel the back of my hand, me lad!").  The views were as spectacular as predicted:


Rum and Cleadale from behind God's finger

and the rest of the clifftop path proved irresistible.  Having come this far, it seemed daft not to carry on to the high point, Sgorr an Fharaidh, about a mile or so further along.  So I did, and again was rewarded by fantastic views.

The panorama from, roughly, south east to north west includes the cliffs themselves, Ardnamurchan in the distance, the southern half of Eigg with, of course, An Sgurr, Cleadale, Laig Bay, and (as always) Rum,


Cleadale, Laig Bay and Rum from Beinn Bhuidhe

The narrower view shows the settlement of Cleadale, in its big green bowl, and the way that the island divides into two characteristic halves with that plateau between them,


Beinn Bhuidhe cliffs, Cleadale, Laig bay

Topographical excursion over, I returned by the same route to find that it was time for tea and biscuits.  And I have no idea where the rest of the evening went.

[billplumtree]

Wed 1 June

Another windy night, but without all the buffeting so I slept a lot better.  The light, or cold, or both, still woke me at 5, and a quick poke of my head outside confirmed that it was worth getting up, at least for a while.


Morning light, Rum


Morning Light, Rum II

Half an hour of that and I was a damn sight colder, so back to bed until I woke again at 9.  There was no-one else camping, so at least my late-morning breakfast was free from embarrassment this time.  I thought of making a badge, "I was up at 5 taking photos of an astonishing sunrise. Where were you?"  (rather like the one I want to show to the cyclists who ride past with disdain when I'm sat outside my house drinking tea, that says "I rode 200km yesterday. Where were you?").

Breakfast over, it was time to start thinking about lunch.  The partial views of Skye from the summit yesterday had inspired me: there must surely be a good view of the Cuillin from the northern end of Eigg.  So, I took my cheese and oatcakes for a ride up to the end of the road (half a mile or so) and on up the track (ditto), then ditched Walter and carried on on foot.  Remember when you were a kid, you used to ride to somewhere (the river, or the beach, or Auntie Eileen's) and, when you got there, just drop the bike and carry on without breaking stride?  It was like that, and oh the feeling of freedom!

Anyway I left Walter, without even the thought of locking him up, among today's flowers, fuschia hedges and yellow flag irises just coming into bloom, and walked northwards up the path towards the tip of the island as today's birds peewitted around my head.  And a splendid path it was too, using the rocky remains of the stone walls of old houses and enclosures to keep above the boggy marshland,


Old walls, now a raised pathway

as it climbed, gradually at first and then steeply up to the bealach, to finally a fine view back over Cleadale and the rest of Eigg,


Cleadale, Eigg

And, on the bealach, my objective: Skye, in the finest weather I've ever seen it,


Blue Skye

Oatcake time.

[L CC]

Sorry billplumtree, but you've earned another.


Git.

[billplumtree]

Makes it all worthwhile 

[billplumtree]

Oatcakes eaten, I headed back down the path, found Walter, and on down the track until we regained the tarmac.  That's 2 miles ridden already - 3 if we play the offroad-double rule - and it's still only early afternoon!  Obviously in the mood for a big mileage day, I continued south past the campsite, grimped up onto the central plateau (accompanied this time by a pair of mewing buzzards) and, daringly, took the left fork for Kildonan on the mile or so of road I hadn't yet ridden.

The road helter-skeltered down to a bay below fluted basalt cliffs


Kildonan Bay

and a track wound round and back up to the old graveyard


Kildonan, Eigg


Kildonan Cross

After a wee wander around here, I skelter-heltered the mile back up to the "main" road, then continued on to Galmisdale for coffee and gingerbread, followed by a swift half, all the while sat outside watching the sunlight sparkle on the sea.  And a few supplies from the Spar, which was what I actually came for.  By the time I'd ridden the 4 miles back home, well that was a full day's riding in and it was time for tea - rice inna mug (Mug-Shots: brilliant for camping!), then peach slices and rice pud. Followed a bit later by yet another (yawn) rather fine sunset.


Crepuscular sunset over Rum I


Crepuscular sunset over Rum II


Sunset over Rum from Eigg IV

High-mileage day today, covering every inch of road on the island:  call it 13 miles.

[Ruthie]

Bill this is marvellous.  Thank you.

[billplumtree]

Thanks Ruth - my pleasure.  As you might have gathered 

[billplumtree]

Thu 2

Back to a wild windy buffetting night, and the day that followed was much the same.  I think the wind eased for a couple of blissful hours shortly after midnight, at which point I was too hot in my two sleeping bags.  Then it returned, and I was right on the borderline of being too cold again until the sun reached over the cliffs and down to the tent at 8 am.

I sat in my now-warm tent, out of the wind, while I had breakfast, and I pondered whether or not I should pack up and leave for one night on Muck, as originally planned.  It would be nice to collect the whole set of small isles, and to go to somewhere called Muck obvs, and on consulting the ferry timetable it was now or never (well, now or not this trip at least).  But there were too many reasons not to:  all that packing up and unpacking, just for one night; I hadn't even been down to Laig beach yet, all of half a mile away; and Muck didn't sound all that inspiring, tbh.  So laziness won out over aspie collecting compulsion, for once:  I'll leave tomorrow, for Rum, and not get Mucky this time round.

That decided, I headed down to the not-yet-even-visited Laig beach.  On Walter - we've already established my laziness.  Staying on Eigg was, I pretty quickly concluded, the right decision.  The wind was relentless, but the views I could make out through my bleary teary eyes were well worth it.


Laig bay


Rum from Laig bay

There was geology galore, like these concretions


Concretion, Laig, Eigg

and dykes


Dyke, Eigg

The latter provided some respite from the wind for a wee while, but the patterns on the beach, made by silt swept down streams on a falling tide, drew me back out irresistibly,


Patterns in the sand, Laig beach, Eigg I


Patterns in the sand, Laig beach, Eigg III


Patterns in the sand, Laig beach, Eigg V

Eventually though, I had to give up.  Not just the unceasing wind, but I'd also had too much sun and was starting to feel distinctly off.  To be fair, I had walked quite a few miles in the midday sun - and this was the nearest it got to cloudy all day:


Sunny afternoon, Laig

I wobbled back to the campsite weakly on Walter for a cool shower and a mid-afternoon lunch taken in the tent out of the sun.  In fact I stayed in the tent for the rest of the afternoon, comfortably sheltered from both the sun and wind, and read, dozed, drank tea.  Yep, I'd definitely had too much sun. Wasn't expecting that when I set off a week ago...

Today's mileage:  1, to save the walk to the beach.