Across the Sound

Things were definitely starting to look up. Less than a mile from the campsite was the Talla na Mara Community Centre and, given my experience so far, I hadn’t been holding out much hope. I was delighted to find a warm, welcoming café with a simple, honest menu and, just as importantly, a place to charge my depleted bike battery.

It was an easy eight-mile ride to Leverburgh to catch the ferry over to Berneray. My luck continued to hold and when I arrived at the slipway, vehicles were already boarding. I wheeled my bike straight on and paid the purser on board.

Crossing the Sound of Harris may look short on a map, but the ferry takes about an hour to cover nine nautical miles, weaving through shallow, treacherous water with constant hairpin turns between skerries, sandbanks, and reefs. I sat on the front deck, fascinated, watching the boat carefully navigate its way through.

I’d contacted that night’s accommodation in advance and been told there was a spare bed in a shared twin bunk room. I’d also been warned it would be a man, so when I collected my bike at the end of the crossing I introduced myself to a likely candidate. It turned out to be Tom from Sunderland, and we cycled up to John’s Bunkhouse together.

Johns Bunkhouse is a purpose-built hostel on the site of a traditional Hebridean blackhouse. It holds on to the character of the original while offering comfortable, modern facilities, including a washing and drying room which meant I could freshen up my laundry.

Mary and Chris were generous hosts and shared a little of the house’s history. It had once belonged to the John the bunkhouse is named after. After his death in a boating accident, they took on the work of continuing the restoration. They lived nearby themselves, in what had originally been the byre. This small croft sits right on the beach, where at low tide it’s possible to walk across the mouth of the cove to the western beaches of the island.

As well as Tom and me, there was a family of three staying, and later we were joined by a couple who were walking the Hebridean Way. They headed off to the local bistro, while the rest of us settled in with food and wine from the well-stocked shop and spent the evening talking and playing cards.

Tom left early the next morning. He had already cycled the Way from south to north and was now heading back to catch the ferry to Oban to collect his car, an illustration of the awkward logistics of travelling through these islands.

I had an easy day ahead, just twenty miles, so before leaving the island I cycled and walked over to West Beach. I was beginning to see why Hebridean beaches are so loved, miles of pristine white sand, backed by huge skies and sweeping hillsides.

Before heading back to collect my bags, I stopped at the local bistro café for a treat of a bacon roll and coffee. From here I crossed the Berneray Causeway into North Uist, the first in a chain of causeways that would carry me south through the Uists and on towards Eriskay.