St Kilda - at the edge of the world

St Kilda - 40 miles out into the Atlantic, about 3 hours each way, so an 8am start from Leverburgh on the Kilda Cruises boat Orca III, crewed by Angus and David. The crossing was ok for me - pretty bouncy, but I must have sea legs as I even managed a light breakfast, while at the next seat to me were two young men who had their heads in a bucket for the WHOLE 3 hours.

When you arrive at St Kilda, the boat isn't allowed to tie up, in case you introduce rats/cats/other nasties, so little groups were decanted in to a rib to cross over to the pier.

The island has a small museum made up of a schoolroom and chapel, and a display room with trays of birds' eggs and a description of life on the island before the evacuation in 1930. There is a small shop where I bought and posted a couple of postcards, then went for a walk through the ruins and up the hill, which was speckled with tiny flowers.

After a while the sun came out, so I had a bit of a sun bathe on the shore, watching a seal in the breakers. I was almost warm :-) In this area there are military buildings, pipework, roads and various concrete yards.

Welcome to the St Kilda International Sea and Airport Lounge

On the return trip we went round the island's towering stacks to see the puffins, fulmars and gannets, but the highlight for me was seeing BASKING SHARKS. Fabulous things. We also feasted on home made scones and jam, handed out by Angus.

On return, I skipped the rather pricey restaurants on the front and went to the chip butty van, and swapped a few grunts with the owner, who quite clearly wanted me out of there as soon as possible. I drove back along the Golden Road, via a beautiful village called Geocrab.

Standing stones, blackhouses and broche

A long drive today, through Tarbert up to the Isle of Lewis, and coming back via the standing stones at Calanais. I stopped off in Tarbert and called in at a craft sale, picking up a hand-knit scarf (about 8ft long!) and a key-ring made of driftwood.

The drive was made even longer by me getting distracted by Women's Hour on the radio, and ending up in Stornoway by mistake! The short-cut across the middle of the island on the Pentland Road, to get back on track was fantastic - a tiny road over the moors, and I think I saw a hen harrier flying low over a field - a large, grey bird of prey.

Called in at the Blue Pig studio and cafe, for tea and home made scones, and chatted with the artist-owner, who used to have a Romahome! I bought a lovely picture of oyster-catchers that was made by his wife.

On to Gearrannan blackhouse village, which had open houses showing how the inhabitants would have lived, but most of them were now converted to holiday homes. Lovely buildings but crikey you would be isolated here - just you and the Atlantic.

On to the stones, which were at the top of a steep hill. I decided to be anti-social and instead of going in to the visitor's centre, I drove up the hill and parked right next to the stones. 

From the top of the hill you could look out over a bay and I saw a pod of dolphins down there in the distance.

I stayed on the eastern side of the island that night, at Lickisto. The landscape was completely different - low and bleak, almost lunar landscapes, with none of the lush grass or sandy beaches of the western side. Apparently in the clearances the poor were pushed on to the eastern side, and how they made a living I do not know.

The site was beautiful, you could walk down to the rocky shore through lush gardens with chickens running through and little scattered tent pitches. There are yurts to stay in and blackhouse communal buildings for cooking, showering and sitting on big squishy sofas.

Unfortunately the van pitches aren't so attractive! We're slightly squished in at the top of the site with little privacy, but it obviously attracts the more individual campers! And the view was lovely.

Isle of Harris

I crossed by ferry from North Uist over to the Isle of Harris, landing at Leverburgh. The man with dog was on the same crossing. 

Called in at a small museum called Seallam! on the way. Although it was very interesting, with an exhibition of how the isles were populated, and their geology, I don't think it really merits an exclamation mark. It is also a centre for genealogy should you wish to find your clan. I didn't look for the MacThomases.

My campsite this time was a hook up on a small, community-run, site in the playground of the old school at Seilebost. No facilities except electricity, and once the office closed it felt like there was no-one for miles.

Another walk on another lovely beach - very soft, white sand, and acres of marram grass. The colour of the sea changed from turquoise to navy to green as dark clouds raced across the sun.

Guess what - home cooking again - groan.