East Harris - 04/04/05

The day didn’t get off to a very good start on local radio this morning. One of the presenters on Isles FM decided to fart on air. Ominous silence, followed by the well-known noise. That station is going down the pan. Outside, it’s a good deal colder than of late. A brisk wind emphasizes the cold. Set off on the Harris bus at 10 am, after paying £6.65 for the trip to Leverburgh. Peter drives the bus to Tarbert; I go to Leverburgh via the east coast, which requires a change at Tarbert. On passing Airigh a’Bhruaich, Clisham hoves into view, and it’s covered in a thin layer of snow. Nearby summits, also have a smattering. The cloudcover needs to shift before I can see these. The snow has settled above 2,000 feet. Proceed over the pass to Tarbert, arriving there at 11.10. Pop in to Firstfruits, the little teashop by the busstation for an applecake and custard. Have a nice chat with the proprietors about the windfarms on Eishken, to which they are opposed. It will drive the tourists away, they reckon. And it’s tourists that the economy here floats on. There will be a meeting at the Harris Hotel tonight about the proposed windfarm on Eishken. Then I pick up a leaflet about St Clements’ Church in Roghadal / Rodel at the Tourist Office, before going on the Bays Bus. Have to get on board, because it’s raining now. Have a bit of a natter with the Hebridean Transport drivers before departure time comes at 12 noon. We set off exactly on time on a high speed dash over the backroads on the eastern side of Harris – it’s the Golden Road. After branching off the main A859 beyond Ceann Dibig, the landscape becomes a confusing jumble of lochs, sea and rocks. At Plocrapol, you can watch wool being spun. In Greosabhagh, we deliver tyres to a garage. At Stocinis, the roadsign proclaiming a Youth Hostel in 150 yards is still up, even though the hostel itself closed down years ago. It is being converted. Stocinis also boasts a minute P.O.. A vague blast from the past as we pass a house called Two Waters, where the trail across the hills to Losgaintir starts. I barely recognize this part of the island from my last visit here in 1995. At times, we nearly run off the butts from the sheep snoozing in the road. We proceed past fallen trees and windgenerators towards Lingarabay. This was to have been the location for a superquarry, where multinational company Lafarge would have blasted the hill Ròineabhal to smithereens in order to dig for aggregates, used in road building. Fierce local opposition thwarted that idea. The hole would have been visible from outer space, and might even have been used for storing nuclear waste. A woman gets on board and states that she is in favour of the windfarms – yes, they’re at the other end of the island and not visible from here. And she was also in favour of the superquarry, because it might bring jobs. What jobs? Arrive outside St Clements at 12.52, exactly on schedule. This church is not in use for worship. It was built in the 1520s. You can go up the tower, but those narrow ladders did not appeal to me. On the exterior of the tower fertility symbols have been placed in the brickwork. Cannot give a description, because it’s a bit, well, risqué. At 1.15, I set out for Leverburgh. The first bit is via a pleasant, grassy path to Borrisdale. The weather decides then to get nasty at me. Sharp showers drift in from the Uists, driven on a strong and cold wind. I pass through Srannda / Strond, and am presently overtaken by an elderly gent. He though I was someone else, but nevertheless offers me a lift. I decline politely, as I am on the road for the sake of doing the walk. Yes, the weather is not very nice. Young lambs jump about on all fours, rather than walk. Look out over the Sound of Harris, and the islands between here and Uist. It’s all very grey now. Hail is included in one shower, so we’re back to winter. Arrive in Leverburgh at 2.15, just in time for one quick bowl of soup at the Anchorage restaurant, right on the pier. The bus to S’way arrives at the same time as the Loch Portain, the ferry to Berneray. When I get on board the bus, the driver snaps at me that I’m going to make the seats wet. It’s pissing down with rain at that point, and even the brief walk from the restaurant has made my waterproofs wet. Can’t he see?! Some people… He is ever so nice to the young couple from his old hometown, Sheffield, that he left 5 years back. The couple were officially on the Calmac tour, but the weather is rather poor. On the slope down into Northton though, it begins to brighten up, sufficiently to allow a 15 minute stop off Horgabost beach. The young folk are planning to set up home in Harrapol, Broadford, Isle of Skye. Good luck. Arrive in Tarbert at 3.40, at the same time as the Uig ferry. I set off for the library, but this is closed for the Easter hols until April 18th. The ferry has discharged minibuses with feisty youngsters on board. The local youths have taken over the waiting room at the busstation. On the 16.10 bus to S’way are two Chinese ladies, who are going to Fairhaven Hostel on Francis Street in town. I promise them a beautiful journey to Stornoway, but the weather is still not playing ball. It rains, then it hails, then it snows / sleets. Appalling weather below Clisham, very strong winds whipping the precipitation along. It’s very gloomy all the way to Aline. Two chaps heading for the Scaladale Centre jump off half a mile further along at Vigadale to make a call from the phonebox. You can get coverage on the mobile here… Arrive in Stornoway at 5.05. I show the Chinese girls to Fairhaven and carry on to my own digs in Newton. Find out that the pope will be buried on Friday, the very day that Prince Charles and Camille Parker-Bowles were planning to get hitched. As he had to be in Rome for the funeral, the wedding had to be postponed. There are evil rumours that he took that in rather ill grace. That wedding is just plain cursed.