Road Trip with Eve. Boats on top

pengodber
Mar 25, 2024
9 min read

We did get the boats off for one magic camp. Photo by Eve Goolden

Eve messaged <I’ve finished my exams! I’ve got a week. Then I've got to do my dissertation. Can we do the Highlands and Islands???> <Sure can> says I <How about a dawdle up the Outer Hebrides. South to North. End at North Uist.> I’m in Barra. Amy, Neil, Alan and the gang are all leaving imminently. Something to do with Calmac cancelling ferries. But if Eve gets the early train from Edinburgh she can be here by supper time. And she is. We’re having a celebration farewell do at Kismet. During the meal Spike helps us plan our route. I don't know Skye and he does.

Eve's first try at driving. Photo by Pen Godber

Eve is my granddaughter. I’m super proud of her. That’s my job. I’m a granny. But how will she find sharing the van? What if I snore? What if I smell? Campsites with showers will be a priority. The weather is guaranteed rain and wind and cold but she’ll be ok with that. After all she’s been in Edinburgh for 5 years.

There are two boats on top but she really doesn’t encourage paddling. Swimming yes, definitely walking but not kayaks. What she doesn’t know is that her Auntie Rosie has suggested a meet up with kayaks at the end of the week. So it’s a road trip with boats on top.

I’m thrilled to have the chance to introduce her to the beauty and wildness of these islands.

Vatersay beach, photo by Eve Goolden

We’ve only spent a day on Vatersay when the unwelcome news comes through that the last Calmac Ferry for two weeks will leave Lochmaddy for Skye the next evening. We manage to get a 3am ferry from Barra to Eriskay. We will have to compress those beautiful islands into one day. That’s really disappointing but, unless a few things go wrong, it’s not really an adventure. It’s just a tour.

Photo by Pen

Two days ago Neil and I had kayaked over to Eriskay from Barra and almost circumnavigated the island. You could spend a happy week kayaking round Eriskay and a scatter of tiny islands at the southern tip. Now Eve and I park up for a climb into the hills above the natural harbour of Ecairseid.

Photo by podcast "Under a tartan sky"

We watch the sunrise with wild ponies for company. They're very bold, relaxed. They don't know it but they're a rare breed. Eriskay wild ponies are an ancient Hebridean breed that once were the mainstay of island communities. There are only 400 left world wide. Aren't we lucky to have such company.

I make up a little fantasy about the lives of the families living in the ruined crofts. There's a fragment of decorated china in the grass. A piece of Mairi's best fancy tea cup. The lazy beds were made with seaweed she hauled up in baskets, there's plenty of sallow growing about to make baskets. Her Gran taught her how. And there's the path down to the handy landing for Neil's fishing boat. Although the walls Neil and Mairi made are covered in lichen and fern they feel so close you could almost chat.

We scrabble up breakfast above the harbour. On the jetty a couple of fisherman are getting their boat ready for a working day. We’d love to go with them. It’s a perfect day. We really want to stay but we’ve got to be up at Loch Maddy for the evening ferry.

View from Sloc Ruadh. Photo by Eve Goolden

The islands of Eriskay, South Uist, Benbecula, North Uist and Berneray are strung together by causeways. So our new plan is a one day road trip, up the island chain.

North Uist, photo by Pen Godber, 2020

I can spend hours looking at the OS map of these islands. There are only a couple of hills but they rise straight from the sea. They have presence. You can happily get lost in them.

A splashy sprinkled blue shine of lochs and lochans patterns the entire chain. It’s as if the water didn’t quite know when to stop. Until you get to the formidable Harris Sound where the water overflows the land in a tidal rush. I’d love to paddle the islands in the sound. One day, but it'll be a calm one.

Tidal planning will be everything: “The law of the tidal stream in the Sound of Harris is very remarkable. It may be generally stated, that in summer, in neap tides, the stream comes from the Atlantic during the whole of the day, and from the Minch during the whole of the night. In winter, the reverse takes place, the Minch stream flows during the day, the Atlantic during the night.” The Edinburgh Philosophical Review, 1858

But we did manage to fit in some stunning beaches on Berneray. Photo by Eve Goolden

And we caught the last ferry, just. Photo by Eve Goolden

Cotton grass, Neist point. We didn't see cetaceans but a great walk. Photo Eve Goolden

Rosie phoned. “Where’ve you got to?” “Skye. Glen Brittle campsite”. “What are you doing today?” “Having breakfast. Going for a walk?” “Good. Park at Fairy Pools Car park. Then call me.” Fairy Pools Car Park is huge. The toilet block is as big as our local Primary School. A surfaced walk way goes miles, a cruel gash across the heather. It is completely full of walkers. You have to admire them tromping their way in flip flops and heels. Whole families, people in wheel chairs. I’m really glad that this gives access to people who might not venture out otherwise but why are we here?

“Can’t talk, I’m busy.” Says Rosie “But take the footpath to the left and keep going left. Phone me when you see your first loch. It’ll take you a couple of hours.” We leave the crowds way behind. Soon it’s just us and the occasional lamb. As we reach our first Loch she phones us back: “I hope you brought your lunch? When you’ve had it turn right, small path and keep going. There’s a corrie.” That’s into the real hills, that’s right up into the Cuillins. I always did want to climb there. But today? Dream over. We’re going. I wish we’d brought more snacks.

Photo by Eve Goolden

The walk became less and less tame. It was straight up and yes, there was a path with friendly stone cairns but it was like walking straight up slithery, sliding scree. Everything was sliding including me. It isn’t even pretty you know. The stones are all I can look at and they are about as pretty as the scalping they use for car parks.

Tired and witless on the hill. Look at my wrinkly little paws! Photo by Eve Goolden

Rosie phoned, she seemed to have second sight. I whinged pitifully: “I’m very old, very tired, I’ve run out of chocolate, I could have a heart attack.” “Please,” Rosie pleaded “please really please don’t stop. Just keep going. Please.” Never mind all that, I tell Eve. You go to the top, take photos and then wake me up on your way down. Very unwillingly Eve scampers on. Five minutes later I realise that I can either keep going or die of cold.

It's not even steep here. Come on! Photo by Eve Goolden before leaving me.

And so, sometimes on all fours, sometimes slithering on my tummy like an aged caterpillar, moaning and wailing I haul myself up and, it’s incredible, other worldly and glamorously fabulous. Thank you Rosie.

Magic Gap. Photo by Eve Goolden

We were at a gap in a narrow ridge that falls precipitously to another improbable tusky peak rising up, another and then a drop all the way to the sea. It looks like a pixar generated fantasy, but way better. I’ve not found any photograph that does justice to it. So there’s a challenge worth taking up for you, Neil Buckland.

Eve could have trotted along the ridge a bit and I could have soaked up the view but it was getting late. I wouldn't want to walk down in the dark.

My friend Roger Wild’s son Finlay holds the record for running the Cuillin Circuit in under 3hrs. That is an extraordinary feat, 12km “from the southernmost summit of Gars-bheinn to the northernmost peak of Sgurr nan Gillean. All of the main climbing pitches, including four notoriously challenging climbs must be completed, unsupported, solo climb and descend without use of ropes.” How does he do it?

Photo by Eve on our way down

Meanwhile we feel extremely pleased with ourselves and take almost that much time to toddle back to the now deserted car park. Thanks Rosie. That was great. That was the best day of my life so far. Honest.

This was the sunset over the Cuillins taken, I think, from Loch Hourn when I was lucky enough to paddle there a few years ago with Mallaig Canoe Club. Naturally this view fired my longing to visit. So thanks Rosie xx Photo by Pen Godber

Two days later we meet up with Rosie and a bunch of teachers in Glen Coe. I was expecting them to be a serious, sensible bunch, maybe a bit hard bitten from years at the chalk face, a bit bossy? A bit inclined to know everything and explain things?

Rosie knows all the best places. Photo by Pen

Rosie had them all swimming in icy plunge pools. They didn't need much encouragement. They were the most playful, up for it bunch you could ever wish to meet. So young, idealistic and loving the work they do. I sat back and prepared to enjoy being impressed.

The next day was kayaks, on the water instead of in it. It wasn't long before they were swapping boats on the water. Playful. Up for anything. Rosie said they wanted an island each to camp on and nowhere better than Loch Moidart for that.

Eilean Shona fits into Loch Moidart like a generous wedge. In the nineteenth century a tree enthusiast planted a magnificent collection of pines both on and off the island. That softens it, gives it romance. It is quite unsurprising that J. M. Barrie was staying on Shona when he wrote “Peter Pan”.

Even a Granny and a bunch of fully grown up teachers can be children here. Tiny islands are scattered across the loch. If you don’t see big birds, a white tailed eagle or osprey or otters it’s because you’re making too much noise with all the chat. Once I watched a twirling dynamo of terns, curlews and oystercatchers dipping and rising over a crescent of shallow water above silver sand between Eilean Shona and Riska. I don’t know what feed they were snatching and catching. They were unforgettable.

Maerl is part of what makes Loch Moidart special. Photo by Pen

These islands are looped with fairy tale silver beaches. People often call them shell beaches but they are much more than that. They are coralline beaches. These waters are protected by a Marine Special Area of Conservation because they are home to Maerl, a brittle coralline alga, an unattached purple branching seaweed that turns silvery white when it dies. It needs very clear unpolluted water so the sun can get through and it’s brittle so won’t survive much turbulence. It’s this "coral" that gives the special crunchy silver quality to the beaches and gives the sea it’s fabulous azure blue.

Once discovered Loch Moidart lures you back. I hesitate to write about it because I don’t want loads of people to come. But hey, readers of this blog are a select few and I hope that all the islands I visit are inspirational and will widen your pleasure as they do mine. This is where Amy and I had our first sea kayak trip. It’s where I did my first solo expedition. I have another one planned here: it will start in Glenfinnan and end at Glenfinnan and have a freshwater loch, a pretty bit of river, a bit of a drop to the sea (get the timing right), Loch Moidart and a train journey involved. I’ve had this trip planned in my head for years and I really hope it will come off for 77 Islands.

I have seen Sea Eagles on every visit. But we were chatting too much this time!

In the end the teachers and Eve and I all squished on to just one island, Eilean na h Oitire. There was a bit of a scrabble to bag a pitch big enough for your tent. Food done we watched the sunset and fell to talking. It was lovely to see Eve, who is about to start on her working life, chatting with this bright, dynamic group of young adults. They’re one life chapter on from her, proving their worth in their own choice of career. They may not have realised it but they’re inspirational and it was great to see her with them. So I left her them to it and sand hopped to our lop sided tent, perched between two boulders above the sea.

Photos by Eve

In the night I woke to a glory of stars. In the morning I sleeping bag shuffled to look down into the clear water. Had the stars dropped into the sea? Brittle stars and star fish were putting on a performance above the purple Maerl twenty feet below.

Rose and Eve star gazing. Photo by Pen

So now I have kayak camped on 4 islands and paddled round 55. My target is to sleep on 77 islands before I am 78 on October 31st 2028. For each island I sleep on I donate £10, for each island I circumnavigate I contribute £1. I am raising money for Aban, a small new charity that offer free-to-access activities that get youngsters out in the wild. Aban share my belief that exploring and adventure builds self confidence and resilience.

If you would like to help them too please donate using this link – or you could help a lot just by sharing this post.

Thank you!