...and we're back! The return of the Mojo.

Hindsight is a wonderful thing. Sometimes, it is only after something has happened that you can look back and realise what it was that was happening. At the time, you are so involved in whatever it is, that you don't actually realise what 'it' is.

Last year in 2015, after a particularly stressful and lousy three-month trip to Scotland, I decided to take a break from writing (other than the occasional blog post) and stuff like that. The 'plan' was to catch up on everything and live a serene life filled with time a-plenty to do anything I wanted to do.

The reality was that while I *DID* manage to spend a good amount of quality time on my Gaelic studies, I wasn't acheiving the countless small, simple things I wanted to acheive. Still the pile of my 'stuff' in the corner of Mum's garage is there, awaiting the week I devote to sorting it out. Still I haven't managed to set up a the website that I've been in the process of trying to set up for three years. Still it took a whole year to edit the 40 or so videos outstanding from the Scotland trip.

'If you want something done, ask a busy person' goes the saying, and this is so true. While I had made plenty of time in my life, the inclination to do anything seemed to evaporate. I went to Glasgow for three months at the end of 2015, and while the first few weeks were fun, as soon as the clocks changed and I'd done the Gaelic radio interview for which I had been preparing for months, I slumped. With nothing to get up for, it was a struggle to get out of bed during the dark mornings. By the time I was up, showered, dog walked, beds away, and breakfasted, it was starting to get dark again. The friends I had hoped to make didn't seem to materialise. That huge void of empty time I had created was not filled with serenity and creativity, it was a vacuum filled with negative and self-defeating behaviour that just seemed to get worse. This was not what I had envisaged.

As winter melted into spring, I had a college assignment to do, and I decided that I was going to 'do it properly' and take the Airstream up to the Outer Hebrides after a short stint at college on the Isle of Skye. Rather than give myself three weeks, I gave myself half that - 10 days. I also called up the Caravan Club to see if they'd be interested in an article about it. After all, it would be a nice way to try and convey how caravanning can not only be a way of taking a relaxing holiday, it can also make for an enlightening, richly cultural and educational break too.

Everything 'clicked' on this trip in April. Relationships were established, friendships cemented, roots planted, and the faster pace of the trip meant that there simply wasn't the time to get bored or stay in bed too long. There was way too much to do.

I really, really enjoyed it.

My plan obviously worked. Despite never having written any kind of academic paper in my life ever (I did all my research BEFORE I knew what Havard Referencing was, so I had to do it all again) I managed to get myself an A grade for the project.

Meanwhile, in June, I headed back up to the Hebrides, this time for six weeks. Despite the longer time frame, I had so much scheduled that the pace would, once again, be quite fast.

A funny thing happened on my way to the Hebrides. I had just downloaded a new album by a group from the Isle of Skye called 'Niteworks'. Two tracks hit me between the eyes - a Gaelic language dance/club track called 'Taobh Abhainn' with vocals by the honey-voiced Alasdair Mac Ille Bhàin, and a haunting monologue 'Somhairle' which was a recitation of 'My Island' by the poet Sorley MacLean.

I knew I wanted to make videos to both of these tracks, although after seeing Treacherous Orchestra in Stornoway with my friend Cathy, I decided to use their music to one of the two films instead.

The recitation 'Somhairle' re-awakened a creativity that had, I realised with hindsight, been dead for about three years. That kind of coincides with when my Dad became ill for the last time before his passing. Everything started to make sense. While I thought I was over the loss of my Dad and functioning normally, obviously I hadn't really come to terms with it and hadn't quite 'got over it' as quickly as I'd thought. It had taken three years.

With that fire of creativity well and truly lit, I dashed through the Highlands to squeeze in an unscheduled 48-hour trip to the Isle of Raasay - the place where Sorley MacLean ('Somhairle') was from, and a place where I knew were derelict iron works that would be perfect for the video still in my head. I also wanted to go visit 'Hallaig' for the first time, a village that was abandoned during the Highland Clearances. It took a good hour's walk in the drizzle and midgies to get to Hallaig, and it was something I don't think I would have done during the previous three years.

The rest of the trip was truly wonderful. I really need to write a proper blog post about it to do it justice. However, there is a video to the trip which also tells the story; you can see that here:

Hebrides 2016 - Full Length Version


Or there is a more concise, sub-4 minute version here:

Hebrides 2016 - Highlights


And finally, the piece that re-ignited a dormant creativity, Somhairle:

Somhairle by Niteworks


I realised once I got back down South, that the less I had to do, the less I wanted to do. Yes, to do too much is no good either, and you need to strike a balance. And that's the word, 'balance'. I realised I had actually gone too far the other way.

As such, the 'Gaelic' piece for the Caravan Club Magazine won't be the last by any means. Right now I'm away in the Airstream researching a commissioned magazine touring article. Yup, we're back!

RET and what it means for the Caravanner, the Motor Caravanner, and the Islands

On 26th October 2015, RET was rolled out across the Caledonian MacBrayne ferry network in Scotland.

What's RET then? I'm glad you asked. It's Road Equivalent Tariff, that's what it is. The blurb says that it's something to do with trying to equate the cost of taking the ferry with driving the same distance. The simple reality is that the fares have tumbled, in some cases dramatically so.

RET is not new. It has been going for a while on a few of the 'long haul' routes like Barra, Tiree, and Lewis. Arran joined the Club recently. Now all the islands, and INTER island routes, will benefit from RET.

So what does this mean to the caravanner, and the motor caravanner?

Let's look at a three comparisons. We'll look at the popular route to the Isle of Mull, the hop over to the Isle of Raasay, and the link between the Isle of Harris and North Uist. The comparison fares are for my personal circumstances, so that is a 4x4 truck, an 8m caravan, and one adult:

MULL: Oban to Craignure standard return
WAS:  £267.30
NOW: £71.90


RAASAY: Sconser to Raasay standard return
WAS: £79.60
NOW: £34.20

HARRIS to NORTH UIST: Leverburgh to Berneray standard single
WAS: £94.00
NOW: £36.35

So looking at the Mull crossing, that is a WHOPPING £195.40 reduction in the fare. The ferry crossing to Mull with a caravan will cost about 30% of the 2015 price in 2016. WOW!

The inter-island routes also open up the possibility of affordable day trips between islands. Last year I couldn't believe that to take just my motorbike and myself from North Uist to Harris for the day (for a Temple Cafe or Skoon Art Cafe fix) was going to cost £42.75 (5-day return). In 2016 the same return will cost me £20.10.

This is terrific news for caravanners, motor caravanners, motorists, bikers, and of course for the islanders themselves.

HOWEVER!

There is always a but. And in the interests of fairness to all, let's talk about that 'but'.

When RET was rolled out to the likes of Barra and Tiree a few years back, the fares tumbled in a similarly dramatic fashion. Tourers, especially camper vans that travel for the same price as a solo car, headed for the islands in their droves.

The only problem was, neither Barra nor Tiree was set up to accept this amount of tourers. Folks would wild camp around the islands. Beforehand, as there were only one or two campers, it was never a problem. Suddenly, swathes of heavy vehicles and caravans were blotting the landscape and, more importantly, destroying it. Machair is fragile, and it wasn't long before erosion set in.

After a bit of an uncomfortable transition period, Tiree and Barra now welcome more caravans and motor caravans than ever before, thanks to a new network of camping-crofts and campsites. Wild camping has effectively been stopped.

There are some wonderful sites on Mull - click on 'Mull' in the word jumble to the right to see where I stayed in 2012. However, even in 2012 the small road between Craignure and Tobermory was already very busy. I wonder how it's going to cope. But I implore the responsible camper to use the official sites wherever possible, and spend that money you saved on the ferry fare on the island. £195 can more than cover your site fees and industrial quantities of cake for an entire week.

if you've never visited the beautiful Scottish Islands and have always fancied it, then wait no more. 2016 really is the year to make it happen. Enjoy.

Tùras math dhuibh.  

 

Signage at Northton, Isle of Harris

An open letter to the Stornoway Gazette.

Recently I saw the following feature in the Stornoway Gazette:

Click here to read


This was something I meant to write about a long time back, but work and Gaelic study got in the way.

During my winter trip to Harris in November/December 2014, I went to Northton Beach on the Isle of Harris and my heart sank. As I passed the Temple Cafe, the sign at a nearby house said ‘No Turning.’ I was so sad to see this. If you have not read ‘Notes From a Small Island’ by Bill Bryson, then make it your priority to do so! In it, Bryson talks about the ‘No Turning’ mentality of the narrow-minded and petty.

Worse was to come. At the beach, there were a plethora of ‘Private Road’ and ‘No Parking’ signs, along with a line of stakes to make sure you got the message.

Only a few months before in the summer I had stopped here for the afternoon on my way from Horgabost Campsite to the Leverburgh ferry en route to Berneray. I parked the rig along the front, had an awesome kitesurf session, then trotted off to the Temple Cafe for a hearty meal.

On my Spring 2015 trip, I was unable to repeat the experience. Travelling from Horgabost to Leverburgh my only options were to park in Leverburgh School (it was Saturday) and buy a DIY lunch at An Clachan, or hope that the Butty Bus would be open. I went for the former, and Gail and Reuben at the Temple Cafe lost yet another customer that day. I cannot begin to even think of how many walkers to the Temple at Toe Head have had to reconsider their day as they can’t park anywhere.

I think it is perfectly reasonable for the local residents not to want motor caravanners and caravanners pitching up for the night along their beach. A simple ‘No overnight parking please’ sign would surely suffice? If erosion is an issue, then a kinder, softer sign would still get the message across while not alienating the visitor.

I’ve not been back to Harris since May 2015, and I can only guess that people are now parking along the verges of the road.

However, to me as a ‘regular’ to Harris, it’s not the lack of parking that grieves me. I fully understand that to create a flat hardstanding area, even to extend the Seallam! car park, would cost thousands if not hundreds of thousands of pounds.

What grieves me are those signs and the attitude they convey. An attitude of narrow-minded ‘prissy…rural England’ as stated in the letter to the Stornoway Gazette. In other words, the kind of thing that people make the long schlep to the Western Isles to get away from.

Put it another way. If this canker is allowed to spread and turn Harris into yet another 'prissy' tourist-hating pretty place where incomers have bulldozed their way in, forced the locals out, then erected their precious ring fences (just like has happened in parts of Cornwall), why would people make that long and expensive journey?

As a Gaelic speaker, I notice that none of these signs are in the indiginous language of the land. This is the kind of sign you see in Gaelic - a welcoming one.

Let’s hope that common sense prevails and such signage is removed, or at the very least changed to something a little more in keeping with the traditionally warm, friendly, and welcoming Hebridean Hospitality that so many of us cherish and hold close to our hearts.

Changing Direction

June 2015

Nothing stays the same forever, we all know that. Sometimes it's good to take a while away from your normal routine, have a think about stuff, and do a bit of a 'happiness check'. You may have enjoyed doing something yesterday, but do you still enjoy it today?

After a very damp and cold three months in Scotland I've decided to change direction a bit. Sadly for some, I'll no longer be continuing my journalistic pursuits for the time being. We live in a very different world to the world I set out in about 15 years ago. You can try and keep up with it all or do something else. I tried for a bit, but now the time has come to do something else.

My Airstream took me to the Outer Hebrides in 2009, and I fell hook line and sinker in love with the place. Before that first visit, I didn't even know that Scottish Gaelic existed. Like many folks, I thought it was pronounced 'gay-lick', which it isn't. It's more like a cross between 'garlic' and 'gallic'.

Fast forward six years and I have completed an 18 month foundation course and am now half way through a two-year part-time university course in Scottish Gaelic. Upon completion of this two year language course I have the option to complete my first ever degree, which is seriously tempting.

If the struggles of a mature student or learning the Gaelic language are of interest to you, check out my other blog, Confessions of a Gaelic Learner. 

Sadly, being just an average human being and not Superman, I can't divvy up my brain into separate bits and be able to give of my best to many things. I have a day job on the railway based in London that I enjoy immensely and have been doing for 21 years, so that isn't going anywhere. I *love* learning Scottish Gaelic, which takes me to Glasgow, Skye, and the Outer Hebrides at every opportunity. This leaves little time for anything else, and sadly something has had to go.

Fifteen years ago, your average leisure journalist was expected to produce words. Very soon after that, the advent of digital photography caused the magazines to dump their Staff Photographers, and the journos were expected to do the photography too. Thereafter, as digital media takes off, video is expected now as well. With video, a whole new bag of worms is opened up, and it's something I don't really want to go into in public.

There is a massive, massive difference between writing about a successful trip you have already completed, and being commissioned to produced a set piece to a set format on a set area within a set timeframe. Meanwhile, 'trolling' on the internet is on the increase. The uneducated and narrow-minded can be so vocal when protected by the anonymity of being the other side of the screen, which is a luxury not afforded to those who choose to publish.

Insurance is another bag of worms. If you make any money from your caravanning and your writing, then you need to have all the insurances in place: Business use on the car, business use on the cararavan, public liability, and public indemnity. In my case that amounts to a cost of almost £3,000 per year before I even start to consider fuel, camera equipment, computer, data (both cloud and hard), mobile data transfer... and all for a revenue stream of about £25 per month from Google and not a lot more (per month) from other sources.

So, my website is down for now. The YouTube videos are pruned. The latest 'ScotVlog' Series was a moderate success and a great reminder of the ups and downs of my trip, but the time taken to produce and upload these films has not been justified. Instead, I now spend my time defending what I've said in the films to people who weren't even there at the time, but think they know better about what happened to me than I do.

I need a break from all this.

I do have a couple of new projects up my sleeve, so don't think you've got rid of me that easily. Howver, right now I need a little time and space to clear the backlog, readjust, and start coming up with some fresh new ideas.


Thank goodness for my Airstream.

A couple of new videos from the Outer Hebrides

My getting up to date with the blog entries about the Hebrides, Summer 2014, has coincided with the launch of a couple of related films.

First off, my little film about the trip itself, set to the music of the brilliant Maeve Mackinnon:

Next up, a brilliant film from Airstream as part of its 'Live Riveted' Lifestyle Campaign. It stars - ahem - yours truly, and all the footage (apart from me sat in the doorway of the trailer) is mine from my trip to the Outer Hebrides in summer 2013:

I guess my intonation could have been sharper, but the monologue was lifted as highlights from a half-hour interview. Had I knew what I was going to say, I may have sounded a little more full of life!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy these.

Camping and Caravanning on the Isle of Harris (and a bit of Barra. And North Uist)

January 2015


Further to the last blog entry, here's a more information-biased entry for those looking at bringing their caravan or motor caravan to the Outer Hebrides.

This entry is a partial update to my 2012 Guide to Caravanning in the Outer Hebrides. I say 'partial' as once you get South of Benbecula there are new sites around that I have yet to properly mention.

Right now, I want to talk about the Isle of Harris. Without doubt, this is my favourite island in the Outer Hebrides. To the North you have the dramatic North Harris Hills, to the West you have gorgeous white sandy beaches, and to the East you have an almost lunar rocky landscape. On top of that, there are three fantastic places to eat and spend an afternoon with a good book and enjoy a friendly chat:

Skoon Art Cafe 

Temple Cafe

and a new addition to my favourites list:

Hebscape Gallery Tea Room


Despite Harris being the nicest island, your options for camping and caravanning are limited. There is no such thing as the perfect site here, each site has its good points and bad points, and that's the point of this article.

First off, a bit of background:

The landscape is, as previously mentioned, beautiful. However, that also makes it very difficult to find any naturally flat area to park a caravan or motorhome. Levelling out pitches is a very, VERY costly process. This cost is passed on to the camper. As such, while people expect camping on the islands to be cheaper than on the mainland, the opposite applies. I find it far more expensive on Harris than on the mainland.

Here are the sites, starting near Tarbert (the main ferry port) and heading clockwise around the lower part of the island:

MINCH VIEW

It's been five years since I've been here but I don't think much has changed. It's a small, CL-style site with basic facilities and four EHUs. The big downsides are the boggy ground, and the very tight entrance as you turn off the road. I only just about managed it with a 7ft6 wide single axle.


LICKISTO BLACKHOUSE AND CAMPING

Lots to like here. Friendly hosts, great view, sheltered from the worst of the Westerly winds, and a 'Blackhouse' which is the focus of the campsite in the evening; a place to use the kitchen, meet other campers, and relax. Good facilities.
Downsides? None if you're a tent camper. A couple if you're in a leisure vehicle. The hardstanding area for caravans and motor caravans is the size of a postage stamp. Single axle caravans only, and you'll need a motor mover or need to be able to manhandle your van. Large units (eg tag axle motorhomes) need not apply. There's only the space for 3 vans, no awnings, and any cars will have to be left on the road. No chemical loo disposal (you need to go to Leverburgh to empty the loo) and it's £20 per night for two people in a van.

FLODABAY FARM

A warm welcome from Tony and Sharon, hardstanding, stunning views, chemical loo disposal point, and electric hook-ups.

That's the good stuff. The not-so-good stuff:
£25 per night inc EHU - this is for a site with no shower or toilet facility. Wow.
There are five pitches, not three as on the website. No tents allowed.
Access involves a long drive along the single-track 'Golden Road' down the East Coast of the island - not for the faint-hearted.
The road to the pitches is up a very, VERY sharp incline. 4x4s essential. Motor caravans need plenty of oomph and a robust clutch.


HORGABOST CAMPSITE

This is the wildest, largest, cheapest (but that isn't saying much) and most relaxed campsite in Harris. You can't book, you just turn up.

Well-drained grass pitches, but only a few tent pitches (and a couple of motor caravan pitches 'up top') have a sea view. However, location is what this site is all about - right on the beautiful sandy beach with the stunning backdrop of the North Harris Hills and the island of Taransay rising out of the sea.

Facilities are adequate, based in old shipping containers. Showers are £1 (but you'd only use them if you don't have on board facilities) and there are loos and a washing up area. WCs are wheelchair accessible.

Downsides? It's a flat fee of £14/night for a caravan/motorhome. That's not great if, like me, you're on your own. There are no EHUs, and nowhere to empty the loo (back to Leverburgh...). The site is littered with seasonal caravans, and as there is no on-site staff presence, there is nobody to keep unruly campers in check late at night. I hasten to add that I have NEVER been disturbed by anti-social behaviour here. Facing North West, the site can get battered by the wind forcing tent campers to scuttle over to Lickisto.


WILD CAMPING

There is a great scheme that has been introduced by the West Harris Trust. You're welcome to Wild Camp in certain spots, but are expected to make a super-reasonable contribution of £5 per night for the privilege. This is a great idea.

The downsides are: The areas are just off the road (i.e. laybys) so there isn't much room, and everything (fresh water, waste water, rubbish) needs to be carried in and carried out. OK for a night stop, not a realistic alternative to a camp site for longer stays.


So there you have the current (2014/15) camping situation on the island of Harris.

I conclude this entry with two alternatives if the actual campsite, or value for money, are of high importance to you.

The BEST CAMPSITE in the Outer Hebrides in my humble opinion is Moorcroft Campsite, in the South West corner of North Uist. Great views, super facilities, friendly owners, easy access, reasonable pricing... THIS is the campsite to come to if you have a large (twin axle) or a wide (8ft) caravan as the road from Lochmaddy ferry terminal is almost completely two-way. You can leave the 'van here and explore seven causeway-linked islands unencumbered. Kilbride campsite down in South Uist is also a nice, clean, neatly-presented site, but is less central.

The BEST VALUE campsite in the Outer Hebrides is Scurrival (Scuribhal) campsite at Eoligarry at the North East tip of Barra. The friendly owner Angus-John charges by the person, not by the unit. Therefore in 2014 I ended up paying £5 per night which included brilliant facilities - big en-suite shower rooms and a kitchen with two washing up sinks. No laundry facilities though (2014).

Fantastic views, and EHUs at £4/n if you want them. I stayed six nights, and was charged the same as I was for one night at Flodabay Farm. But, to be fair, no expensive quarrying and levelling has been necessary at Scurrival.



So there you have it... I hope that's been of some use to you. You have the info... now all you need to do is decide when you're coming!

Hebrides 2014

May/June 2014

Here we go... event of the year, my trip to paradise and the islands I find so totally and utterly irresistable. Since discovering the Outer Hebrides in 2009, I've completely lost the desire to go anywhere else. When I do go other places, my reaction is normally: 'Well, it's nice, but it's not the Outer Hebrides...'

 I'd not been to Ullapool since that first trip five years ago. It's a gorgeous little town that warrants a longer stay yet, just like the North End of Skye, I never hang around because I know what riches lie just across The Minch (the sea between the mainland and the islands).

I thought I'd be smart and fill up with diesel in Ullapool HOW MUCH???!!!!

I later found out that fuel is much cheaper in Stornoway. Nothing to do with cost of the raw material or transportation then, all to do with local competition. In other words, you get ripped off in places where there is little competition. Like Ullapool.

The last time I travelled on Caledonian MacBrayne's ferry 'Isle of Lewis', it was still a couple of years BC (Before Canine). I LOVE Caledonian MacBrayne for many reasons, one of which is that you don't need to leave your dog in the car or in a kennel, you can take it upstairs with you where there is special pet lounge.

I have to say, the Pet Lounge on the mv Isle of Lewis is my least favourite so far, as there are no windows. Let's hope the new ferry that takes up the route in 2015, mv Loch Seaforth, will be nicer. I'll certainly be giving that a go. The mv Hebrides (from Uig in Skye) and the mv Clansman and the mv Lord of the Isles (from Oban) have much nice dog lounges. The mv Finlaggan is OK (to Islay) but on there you can't escape annoying televisions blaring out.

Arrival in Stornoway, Isle of Lewis, was at a temporary berth while the main pier was being altered for the arrival of the mv Loch Seaforth on the run. As such, there was a mighty angle in the loading ramp, but the deck crew were outstanding. I was told to take my time and had 'deckies' checking from four angles as I inched the Airstream off the ramp and onto the pier. Chocks were put into place where necessary, and we were off without grounding or any problems whatsoever.  Have I mentioned I love Caledonian MacBrayne?

Our destination was 90 minutes away towards the South of the Isle of Harris, but all the main services are here in Stornoway. Dougal had been limping off and on since hurting his paw in Brora so our first call was to the vet. Luckily I remembered that there is a large car park near the vet by the BBC Alba studios so I could park the entire rig for an hour without anybody minding. Otherwise, if you need to leave your rig for the day in Stornoway, there is paid Large Vehicle Parking Area behind Engebret's Garage. Everyone knows Engebret's and it's easy to find online.

With no fault found to Dougal's paw (probably a sympathy ploy to get more treats, that dog isn't daft) we headed South to Harris. To keep this entry short enough to be readable, I'll describe the camping on the island in a later blog entry.

My friends G&C joined me in Harris with their Vanmaster Caravan. We had a fantastic week. Plenty of walking, eating, drinking, and photo opportunities.

 

C *loves* cooking and I happen to love eating, so for an entire week I was spared making my own dinner. He was amazed that the local Co-Op in Leverburgh in the South of Harris had almost everything he needed, no matter how exotic the dish. Like any responsible caravanner, his aim was to buy all his food locally to ease loading the caravan and support the local economy.

When eating out, we alternated between my two favourite cafes in the whole world, EVER. They are:

Skoon Art Cafe in Geocrab

Temple Cafe in Northton

These two establishments are instrumental in my choice to stay on Harris instead of another island.

It was incredibly sad to see G&C leave on the Friday after one week. I decided to head South to the Uists on the Sunday. Meanwhile, it was that Saturday I sat outside Temple Cafe and witnessed the arrogant idiots that angered me so and inspired me to bash out the blog entry 'How Dare You'. I was fuming.

Come the next day I hitched up the Airstream and parked up at Northton to enjoy a crafty kitesurf. Little did I know that this would never happen again... you'll have to wait for the 'Hebrides Winter 2014' entry to find out why!

After yet another beautiful lunch at Temple Cafe (accompanied by farewells, hugs, and maybe a tear or two on my part) I boarded the ferry over to Berneray.


There are no camp sites on Berneray, so CalMac has provided a free service point for Caravans and Motor Caravans. Have I mentioned I love Caledonian MacBrayne?

I snuck off down to the dunes to camp, and apart from doing my usual 'clean up' of the area (happily there was hardly any litter to clear this time) I really wished that there was an Honesty Box or something so that people who want to contribute back to the island in exchange for the free camping are able to do so. A brilliant scheme works in West Harris that allows this.


Next day, I went down to Moorcroft Campsite on North Uist for a couple of days. Moorcroft remains one of my favourite sites in the Outer Hebrides. I always get such a warm welcome from the owners Iain and Catriona, and they even indulge me and let me try out my pigeon Gàidhlig on them.

Once again I had a fantastic kitesurf in the shallow waters off the campsite:

I had planned to stay a little longer in the Uists but I ended up charging down to the island of Barra as I wanted to catch an old acquaintance, Christine, before she left the island. I met Christine on that first trip five years ago, and she spends every summer on Barra in her Coachman Caravan. She's been doing that for more years than she cares to remember, and is a font of all local knowledge.

A funny thing happened on my way to Barra. First of all, let's just say that quite a few folks in the islands, both resident and visitors, know of 'The Man with the Silver Caravan'. Second, people in the islands are lovely anyway, and many will wave when you're passing even if you've never met before.

As ever, I took my time when the road was single track, and if I ever saw anyone coming the other way or behind me, I'd be the first to pull over. After all, I'm obviously on holiday with an Airstream on the back. That other person is likely to be a resident who simply wants to get from A to B.

Today, though, it seemed that the waves from the drivers (and passengers) were more enthusiastic than ever. I was a little puzzled. Had I met some of these people? Then, as I allowed a car coming the other way to pass, the occupants stopped alongside and wound down their window:

'Great blog Andrew!' the driver shouted. I felt humbled. It appears that not only do folks actually read this, but it also looks like the entry I wrote with steam coming out my ears ('How Dare You') struck a chord with a LOT of other people too. Aw shucks.


I'd not returned to Barra (other than a day trip) since 2010. In 2010 wild camping was stopped on the island, yet the campsites were not really ready to accept caravans and motor caravans. It was a bit of a bumpy transition period, but now the transistion is complete and it's probably one of the best islands for caravans and motorhomes.

I intended to spend just a couple of days at Scurrival (Scuribhal) Campsite at Eoligarry in the North of the island, then tour around and try the other sites in order to report back. However, laziness and a contented sense of being settled kicked in, and ended up spending the entire week at Scurrival.

Now here's the thing that I'll be going into when I write about camping in the Outer Hebrides again: ONE WEEK at Scurrival cost me the same as ONE NIGHT on one of the campsites in Harris. Therefore the 'Airport Cafe' down the road got my business every day. Not only was the food good, there was free wifi and, of course, the daily theatre of being the only airport in the world where scheduled flights land on the beach.

After a fantastic week re-acquainting myself with the island of Barra, it was with heavy heart that I headed to Castlebay one last time to board the mv Clansman. Stupid, soppy, sentimental fool that I am, I spent most of the trip outside at the aft end, watching my beautiful, gorgeous islands slip slowly out of site with tears in my eyes. Mar sin leibh Na h-Innse Gall mo ghràibh. Tillidh mi air ais.

How dare you.

June 2014

I've just enjoyed a wonderful week in my favourite place in the world, the Isle of Harris in the Outer Hebrides.

There's just something about the place I love more than anywhere else. Could it be the AMAZING food and the warm welcomes I receive at the Temple Cafe in Northton and at the Skoon Art Cafe in Geocrab? Could it be the wonderful views on offer at these places? Or the stunning, jaw-dropping views at Horgabost campsite (pic above), with the strong, silent hills of Taransay and North Harris sitting formidably behind a turquoise blue sea and white sands?

Could it be the fact I've got to know people there - chewing the cud with Harvey from Lickisto campsite in the Tarbert stores, bumping into the lovely photographer Leila as she pops down from Stornoway for the day, or chatting with 'regulars' at the cafes and campsites?

Still, who cares? Harris is my little corner of paradise and I love it so.

Like every place the world over, the Outer Hebrides is changing. It's inevitable, we accept change, but it is the direction that it's going that makes me want to have a rant.

You see, it seems that all over the place, councils and tourist authorities are chasing the 'top end' of the market. However, this is dangerous practice and such policies could end up killing off the existing tourist trade that these places already have, leaving them with absolutely nothing.

I have no problem with affluent people wishing to splash a little cash on a luxury holiday, in the same way I have no problem with a student on a budget hitch-hiking his or her way around the islands and staying in a tent. It's all to do with respect for the environment you are in, respect for the people who live there, and respect for local customs, even if you don't understand WHY things are done in a certain way.

Recently, I've noticed an increase in 'top end' cars on the roads in the islands, to go with the increase in 'top end' self-catering accommodation. With this increase I've noticed some of the customs I love so much, initiated by the locals and imitated by the tourists, are on the decline. By 'customs' I mean good old fashioned manners, waving and talking to strangers, acting as a member of a wider community and not as a self-centred individual... that kind of thing. To my mind, there is a link between the diminution of the charming ways that bring many people like me to the islands, and the influx of the kind of people who tastelessly flaunt pompous self-superiority.

My beautiful lunch one day was spoiled by a table of loud-mouthed pretentious hoi-polloi belittling and moaning about many charming quirks and customs that make the islands so different, and so very special. The fact that the Sunday Paper wouldn't arrive until 4pm on Monday was something they couldn't get their heads around. The cook in the cafe had gone to a lot of trouble to source salad from a neighbouring crofter to make sure their dishes were complete, yet all these idiots could do was moan pompously to each other and leave it. When you've made friends with crofters in the islands and see just how bloody hard they work for a living, to see waste in any shape or form is soul-destroying and heart-breaking. These crass, insensitive, arrogant twits were in danger of spoiling my whole experience of eating superb, home-grown local food in an amazing setting for less than a tenner.

No doubt it was a similar breed of arrogant twit whom refused to acknowledge or wave to me when I'd pull in to a passing place on a single-track road to let their Range Rovers, BMWs, or Mercs with roof boxes pass. A caravan? Pish! Common! Ignore the peasant!

It's not often I'll have a socialist rant, but I can't keep this one down.

I myself have rented self-catering accommodation in the past, when it's not been possible or appropriate to take the caravan, so I am no angel myself. I admire my friends S&P who flatly refuse to rent a self-catering place, as they strongly feel that such properties kill communities and deny local people the chance to buy an affordable house.

And that's the twist in the tale.

You see, for some reason, caravanners are 'looked down' upon by so many people and organisations. Our needs are barely catered for, and normally then only as an afterthought. Thank goodness we have two very strong, influential, and organised clubs to stand up for us. Only recently have the Caravan Club and the Camping and Caravanning Club successfully lobbied to stop Caravan MoTs becoming compulsory in the UK.

However, despite the best efforts of both the Clubs, the NCC, the site operators and the manufacturers, caravanning still suffers a perception problem. And it REALLY irks me.

I really don't give a flying hoot if your pride and joy is a £500 oldie but goodie, a vinyl-wrapped dogfish on wheels (I had to get an 'Amazing Spaces' reference in somewhere), the ubiquitous Bailey Ranger or Sprite Alpine, a super-sized Fifth Wheel Inos, a teeny little Romahome, a 'Too-Cool-for-School' VeeDub Camper, or a Concorde A-Class bus. If you love touring and you tread lightly as you go, you're one of us.

So why why WHY are we seen as poor relations? We all know that the average car+caravan outfit can easily top the £50k mark, and motorhomes can slide into the £100k plus bracket with little effort. The day I left Ullapool for Stornoway, I spent over £300 on fuel, ferry, and food.

Just like people in self-catering, we enjoy the freedom of being to cook relaxed meals at home. Just like people in self-catering, we love to shop in the local shops. Just like people in self-catering, we bring essentials (like Dougal's Canadian dog food) with us. Just like people in self-catering, we enjoy going out for lunch, going out for tea and cake, and going out for dinner. Just like people in self-catering, we contribute to the local economy. Just like people in self-catering, some of us contribute more than others. Just like people in self-catering, we help keep people in employment running the campsites we stay at.

So where exactly is the difference?

Ah yes, let's go back to Harris, and its beautiful West Coast. 

The one big difference is this:

At the end of the season, the caravans and motor caravans leave Horgabost Campsite. The area returns to communal grazing for the local crofters, and life goes on.
Meanwhile, the executive self-catering properties sit there empty, taking up land, pushing up house prices for the local people, and contributing nothing to the local economy.

Now you tell me, which is damaging the local community, and which is the permanent eyesore?

Quite.

So how very dare those arrogant, idiotic, pompous twits look down their noses at us caravanners and motor-caravanners. And maybe those who make decisions and policies about land use, grants, and tourism need to take a step back and reflect for a minute.

Seaweed harvesting, herring fishing... Hebridean industries that have collapsed and taken communities with them. So why would you put all your tourism eggs in the 'top-end' basket? 

Hebrides Summer 2013 - Part 2: Relax, Recharge, Refresh, and Return of the Mojo

Where were we? Ah yes, heading to a Caravan Club CL in South Uist. 

'Oh, hello Mister Gàidhlig!' smiled Catriona, owner of the CL after I rang at the door. I guess that my Gaelic fleece is none too subtle: 

'Tha Gàidhlig agaibh?'
Tha

--> Gàidhlig agam, ceart gu leor, Sibh fhein?'

'Tha mi ag ionnsachadh Gàidhlig, comhla ri Sabhal

-->Mòr Ostaig, ach tha Sassainach a th' annam'

'Glè mhath!'

-->

Almost every Gaelic conversation started off like this during my stay. This would be followed by something I'd fail to understand after which we'd switch to English, but it was a start. I liked Catriona very much, and immediately felt very welcome and relaxed. Phew!

It's all very nice travelling around here, there, and everywhere, but sometimes you just want to STOP. You want to plug in to the mains and keep the caravan dry and warm inside. You're fed up with cleaning the sand off the floor five times a day. You don't have the energy to chop kindling or crank up the woodgas stove outside. You just want to get the jobs done that are weighing you down, clean up, and chill out without having to worry about the weather or where to go tomorrow.

That's exactly what I did. The Airstream was washed and waxed. The motorbike unloaded, cleaned, oiled, and taken for a spin. I slept. And Dougal? Dougal made new friends:

Dougal's other good friend, Paddy, lives at Askernish Golf Course, just a few miles away from where we were. So of course off we went to go find Paddy, who, like Dougal, has matured somewhat and was less playful than he's been before. However, he still joined us for a good half hour, and you could tell that he and Dougal remember each other:

Just down the road from the CL is an abandoned church. I liked the building very much, and in my head sketched up a 'grand design' for a one-bedroomed house with a huge galleried ceiling in the living room and the bedroom on a mezzanine:

Lovely building, but wrong location. I like the Uists very much, and it's the island chain I visit to wind down and de-stress, but once relaxed I prefer Harris where there's a little bit more going on.


There was only one other thing to do during my short stay at Catriona's CL.



You may have noticed that now and again I wild camp on the islands. As well as applying common sense (ie one, maximum two nights in a spot, stay out of the way, leave TIDIER than you find etc etc) I have a little rule. That rule is to spend what I would have spent on site fees in the local economy. Therefore I HAD TO spend £20 on food and cake in the sweet wee cafe in the Lochboisdale Post Office to make up for the two nights wild camping. Tough, but I managed.

I'd have stayed at 'Taigh Chatriona' for three nights but I needed to head to North Uist. My friend Mat was coming over to join me for a few days, and was sailing to Lochmaddy. Off I headed to Moorcroft Campsite on the South West Corner of North Uist. The lovely owners remembered me and made me feel super-welcome again. And, I'm pleased to say, indulged my Gaelic a little too. 'We could tell you were bursting to have a go!' laughed Catriona. (Please note, not all Hebridean site owners are called Catriona, but it does seem to be a theme.)

Slight panic set in when I realised that this night at Moorcroft would be my last for at least two weeks with access to a washing machine. Despite the gloomy wet weather being anything but 'drying weather', it was time to bite the bullet, hang the expense, and get everything clean and dry using the machine and drier. That night was an expensive one.

Clothes admin, and my inability to get up in the morning, meant leaving the Airstream at Moorcroft while I went to met Mat's ferry at Lochboisdale:

He'd had a super-long drive up from Dorset so was happy to chill for the rest of the day. Off we went to my favourite wild camping spot for the night.

Well, MY 'fair weather blessing' may have worn off when visiting the islands, but I now believe that I simply loaned it to Mat this year. After he arrived, the mist lifted and the sun came out. 'My' spot at my favourite place was free, and life was good once again.

Washed up on the beach where we were was an old wooden pallet, ideal for a bit of fire pit action that evening. However, the blade in my bowsaw was becoming less than sharp. Time to head to the DIY shop on South Uist, just over the causeway from Benbecula.

In the shop they had blades for larger bowsaws, and only the complete saw unit, handle and all, in the size I wanted. The kind owner therefore removed the blade from the complete saw to sell to me for £3, and ordered himself a new blade to replace the one he'd borrowed from the complete saw on sale.

Now, can you see them doing that in B&Q?

With the sun shining, the Hebridean folks being their usual friendly, helpful, down-to-earth selves, and with a friend in tow to show off 'my' special place, my spirits lifted immeasurably. Maybe the fact I'd slept loads and had adjusted my adrenaline levels from 'London' to 'Hebrides' also helped.

That evening, Mat and I enjoyed an al-fresco meal cooked on the Dometic Origo stove, followed by an evening just chilling out around a roaring fire, in awe of the amazing sunset on one side followed by an equally spectacular moon rising on the other side.

 That was finally it. This was the Hebrides that I know and love. The light is something else. My severed roots were once again back in Hebridean soil and growing again. I knew that evening that my earlier apathy about coming here was misplaced. If only for this one evening, the whole journey from Kent was more than worth it. Nowhere else in the world makes me feel as happy and as grounded as I do here. Nowhere else comes close. The Outer Hebrides is the most amazing place in the world. You either get it, or you don't.