Notes From A Small Island II

09Jul09

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The big downside of wild camping for me is lack of a decent night’s sleep. And it’s bright at 5am. A coffee was brewed to stave off tiredness and some alfresco ablutions attended to. The morning was misty grey and ominous clouds were tumbling towards camp so little time was wasted packing up and heading back down to the car to head for Traigh Na Beirigh, the great bay of a beach just past Cnip (pronounced Kneep but I’ve pronounced it with a hard C and a Nip since I was a kid).

There’s a great house in Breanish I always stop and peer into call Talla Choinneachaidh and again there was noone home. Who lives there and why aren’t they there the whole damn time enjoying it? After that there were detours to Mangersta and Carnish before zipping past the Abhainn Dearg distillery by mistake with a vow to return before heading north. Emerging from Glen Valtos to Miavaig gives you a choice of routes to Reef and a clockwise approach was chosen taking in Cliff, Valtos and (excuse English / Gaelic interchanging) Cnip. I love Cnip. Sometimes it feels like Hobbiton. The golfball greenhouse is still there and cresting the hill to the big beach reveal is always awesome. Changed days at the campsite now. Once upon a time there was a single Portakabin pair of loos and a tap. Now there’s toilets, showers, wash up rooms and electricity. The site was busy so after parking and loading up the happier and anti-social option of walking a mile down the beach to a favourite spot was easily taken.

The next couple of days were pretty lazy, spent reading, climbing some hills (Niosa Mhor) and cooking out over a small fire. The midge and cleg factor put paid to any fishing attempts too. Spectacular sunsets were the order of the evening, one of which burst through a grey clouded horizon like an atom bomb. No joke, without news for a few days it looked like New York had been hit. Cormorants ducked and dived for heir dinners nearby and a pair of Terns abused the schools of Sandeels that skittered across the shallows. A small motor boat with a Dad and two kids gave up the ghost a few dozen yards from shore one evening but luckily a passing kayak group passed by to lend a hand. Every night around midnight another small boat chugged along, probably lifting creels for crab or lobsters just off the rocks.

A few folk made the long walk and back to “my” end of the sands but generally it was quiet and peaceful with only a few beasties to bother with and by heading in their direction I could use the facilities and for a pound coin, a shower which was bliss if cheating somewhat. After a couple of nights it was pack up and out time. Heading for the distillery and Uig Community shop proved a waste of time as both were empty and closed. Driving back towards Miavig saw a lot of local drivers in church dress and sure enough a local funeral was that day and the community had obviously downed tools for the day to turn out to pay their respects.

Next stop was north to Ness.

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