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A deliberately slow morning today, to at least in part make up for the madness of yesterday. A cooked breakfast and the knowledge that there were no mountains to tackle today also helped.
Outside we were greeted by gloriously sunny weather with only a light breeze blowing from the west.
We met the 11:35 ferry to Uist just down the road from our B&B. It was a squat rectangular vessel with a ramp on each end rather akin to a landing craft.
The crossing took about an hour as the ferry wove its way in and out of countless tiny islands and rocks between Harris and North Uist. The sun shone, the sky was clear and the sea was a deep blue and as flat as a mill pond. Truly beautiful!
The isle of Uist had its own character just as Lewis and Harris had been different. The land was low lying and flat, though South Uist had a couple of mountains that we could see in the distance, and which barely seemed to get any closer as we rode toward them. Much of the distance we were riding was on single track roads with passing places, which could be a little frustrating at times but got better as the amount of traffic dropped the further south we went.
We paused for lunch on a causeway between north and south islands. It seems the Hebrideans... Hebridites... It seems that the locals have a novel solution to crossing bodies of water, which is to pile rocks into it and then build a road over the top. Building bridges is clearly only for mainland pansies.
The miles continued to clock up. As we passed the mountains we commented that we could again easily be parts of the Lake District or Yorkshire, above the tree line, except that if you happened to glance the other way you'd realise you were at sea level and looking straight out across the Atlantic ocean.
The last couple of miles to the B&B in Lochboisdale with a following wind were, in contrast to the previous day, exceedingly easy going. Nevertheless, dinner in the local hotel was most welcome.
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