26th & 27th August

It rained heavily overnight, but the skies were apricot coloured by morning. We drove to Eriskay, and caught the ferry to Barra; one of the smaller islands of the Outer Hebrides. On the way, we watched a young deer skip across the road and leap over a fence. I’ve now seen road signs for deer, sheep, cattle and otter crossings- a far cry from wombats and koalas. The ferry was a short ride, and we headed up to Vatersay to take a three hour walk around the hills and coastline. I came back to the car covered in sand, mud and cow pats. We’d walked through two fields of cows, with a bull in each one, and learned just how calmly we can walk with a large bull staring at us! Vatersay is basically just a small island, blessed with crystal clear

waters, wildflowers, and landscapes to take your breath away. So miniature paradise, minus the temperatures.

We’d agreed on three main stops that day, and made our way to see another castle, at Castlebay. Kisimul Castle dates from the 15th Century, and is the seat of chief of Clan Macneil. It’s the only castle we’d seen in the Outer Hebrides which appears intact. The castle sits in the middle of the harbour, and a five-minute boat trip is required to view it from the inside. It was here Melanie and I had our first real disagreement. I was very keen to see inside the castle. Melanie, being European, had already seen many castles, and was concerned that the visit would mean we’d be late for our next stop, which was high up on her list. I established that the boat left every thirty minutes, and as a compromise, I paid for both our tickets in order to take the speediest tour of a castle ever. The twenty minutes spent inside were filled with running from one room to another, admiring the age and decorations, and sharing the same childish enthusiasm as two young children also exploring. The novelty of being inside a castle, in the middle of a harbour, is one which won’t wear off easily on me. There are many more castles to explore, and I intend to enjoy every one I visit.

Safely back on shore, we drove to Barra Airport, where planes land on the shore of a white, sandy beach. It is the quaintest little airport I’ve ever seen, with the café being busier than the flight itself. We arrived for the eightieth year celebrations, with flags hanging all over the room. Yes, a singular room, with a tiny check in counter, and security checks at a small desk outside, on the way to boarding. Boarding is only a two hundred metre walk from the airport, and the glass windows give a good view of the planes landing and taking off. Melanie and I had a pot of tea, and saw a tiny plane arrive and depart, all in the space of an hour.
Mission accomplished, we had the afternoon free, and set off on a round tour of the island. Barra is small. We stopped along the way to take photos of the ocean and beaches from every angle, and still completed the circumference of the island in around an hour. Despite it's size, Barra still boasts a full golf course. Scotland appears to be mad about golf, and this little island with a golf course was the

perfect example of just how popular the sport is.
Back at the campsite, we walked through another meadow of sheep to view another small tower, this one on a lake. We caught another cold, magnificent sunset, and disappeared into a warm shower, before an early night.

After waking to yet another gorgeous sunrise the next day, we packed the tent and watched the sky, clouds and ocean turn from different shades of pink to blues. I couldn’t help but think how lucky I was to be there, right at that moment. So many friends and people had pulled together to make it possible; Sonya and Denise who are minding my belongings, Emma and Rikiah who are minding my home and cat, and friends who had encouraged me to take the plunge. All these people helped, so I could stand on a tiny island in the Outer Hebrides, and watch a sunrise. Sometimes, life is amazing.

We arrived back in Castlebay to catch the long ferry ride back to Oban, on the mainland. On the way, we passed a pod of porpoises, although at the time I thought they were tiny dolphins. All the announcements on the ferries are in both English and Gaelic. On the ferries and all the islands, signage is mostly in both languages as well. It’s beautiful to listen to, although hard to learn, especially as it’s a non-phonetic language.
Oban was busy when we arrived; there was a paddling race in the harbour, and spectators on top of the usual tourist crowds made it quite crowded. It’s a pretty city, and we stretched our legs for an hour before driving to Kilchurn Castle. This castle is a ruin, sitting next to a lake, and is beautiful in its dilapidation. Many walls and stairs are still intact, and the views from the upper windows looked straight over the lake. It was hard to find, as the turn off was from a major road onto a tiny minor one, with no signage at all. We turned around four times before we saw some cars parked off road, in what appeared to be a meadow, due to the angle of the roads. The sheep hiding in the bushes looked at us as we walked along to the site, and across the lake, campers had a picture perfect view of the castle. Dear Scotland, you do castle landscapes so well.

Inveraray was next; a classic fairytale castle with pointed turrets, and flowery gardens. We arrived too late for entry again, but contented ourselves with admiring the outside, and taking advantage of their public toilets, somewhat more modern than the castle.
We drove towards Loch Lomond, passing lakes so still that they became perfect mirrors for the mountains above. We went past pine plantations, stone bridges, flowing waterfalls and clear rivers. It was so pristine, that arriving at the people-filled Loch Lomond was a slight disappointment. There were Scots swimming at the dock, right in front of a “no swimming” sign, and freezing in their defiance. Other families stood taking selfie photos on the shore. There were

boats and paddleboards everywhere, and I decided it would be preferable to climb a nearby mountain and see the lake from above. Instead, we photographed the swimmers and the sign, and headed to Linlithgow for one final night of camping.