On the evening of Saturday, 12 September, we had concerns regarding the increasingly heavy winds. We securely staked out the tent with additional guys and considered it good. This tent has been through a lot of wind on the Outer Hebrides, and it'll hold up fine.
We were quite wrong.
We think back to the good ole days when we would say "I'll take the wind over midges any day!" and consider the folly of that notion. We will mostly likely never be heard to say that again! It was so windy we decided against wearing earplugs to cancel out the endless flapping of the tent, as we wanted to be able hear any warning of the pegs becoming loose. So that meant it was a long time before we were able to finally fall asleep.
We awoke at 3:30 am to CRAZY wind that we feared may pull us up and take us to Oz. We later learned that a gale blew in - like a winter-storm type of gale - and the wind was gusting to greater than 60mph. We think it was greater than that where we were.
Melinda was inside holding down the tent while boB was outside staking it down again (and again), and the wind was blowing so hard he was blown off his feet into the mud. It was absolutely terrifying, and we were very afraid we were going to lose the tent. We packed up what we could in case we lost the tent, and tried to formulate a plan that would keep us from getting totally soaked and hypothermic. We didn't come up with anything good, so we stayed put and waited it out and hoped the tent would hold together until it was light enough that we could start moving.
We made it through, somehow. And we actually stayed dry (well mostly dry). And the tent survived.
We took turns holding the tent down until the light of dawn. Packed everything up in a hurry and found, to our dismay, it was even more windy than we imagined. Somehow we made it 3 miles down the road to the Scapidale outdoor centre, which also serves as a bunkhouse. We were able use the facility briefly to collect ourselves, make tea and eat a few crumpets before venturing over the pass to Tarbert.
We both were blown off our bikes once. There was minimal traffic, thankfully, and we had to walk the bikes for several miles because we couldn't ride in it. The intention was to make Tarbert and then the afternoon ferry to Skye on Sunday.
You can't really tell in this picture, but the rain is coming in stinging sheets, blown in all directions by the swirling gale-force winds.
And the burns that were a trickle two days before were raging now.
We arrived in Tarbert at noon, exhausted and humbled by the power of nature and grateful to be alive. We found that, being Sunday, nothing was open for business. Thus there was nowhere to get warm because the ferry terminal didn't open until 2 pm.
There was a church service happening in the community center and we quietly entered the lobby in hopes of changing out of our cold wet clothing. A very kind gentleman, seeing us through the glass doors, came out from the service to check on us. He welcomed us to the service and later invited us to his home for a warm homecooked meal with his wife and friends. How could we decline? We spent the afternoon listening to stories of local living and looking out over Loch Talbert from their lovely lochside home. Another woman, whom we had briefly met at the service, owns the local 4 star hotel- she very generously offered us the last available room at an extremely discounted rate. Again, we had a hard time declining that offer. We exploded (that's what we call it when we spread out all our wet gear) in no time at all! We took warm showers, dried our gear, and contemplated the kindness of strangers, and how we may pay forward this kindness in the future.
We heard later that day that other campers shared our plight, but they had cars to shelter in after their tents were wrecked. Still, not pleasant! And we heard of a woman drinking tea in her caravan (small motorhome) while watching the sides of the camper pull inwards and the ceiling lift upwards as the camper was hammered by the gale.
Our confidence shaken, we slept in comfort indoors, knowing we were safe, warm and dry. At least for one night...
The next day, wouldn't you know it, was sunny and gorgeous! It was hard to imagine the intensity of the storm that had passed! As the ferry to Skye didn't leave until much later that afternoon, we decided to enjoy the day on bicycles.
We devised "The Tweed Tour" of the greater Tarbert area. 16 miles along the 'Golden Road' and the A859 in search of tweed goods.
We visited the Harris Tweed and Knitwear shop at the old school in the village of Drinishader (5 miles from Tarbert) and enjoyed their exhibition "Clo Mor", which is Gaelic for "good cloth" (meaning TWEED!!).
Here are a few photos of some unique creations.....
It is incredible (or odd) what can be done with tweed!
After browsing their store, boB found a fantastic and irresistible tweed cap! It is surprising how a simple thing such as a cap can make one feel more human!
Proceeded farther down the golden road to Grouse Bay to the 'Harris tweed Company' to view their stunning collection of tweed coats and yarn. Ended the tweed tour at the 'Harris Tweed Isle of Harris' shop in Tarbert. Took some photos of beautiful tweed jackets so we can include it our letters to Santa this December.
All in time to catch the late afternoon ferry from Tarbert to Skye.
Day to day summaries:
September 13. Loch seaforth to Tarbert, via A859. Very windy with driving rain. Gusts up to 50 mph. Total 15.5 very difficult miles. Taken in, miserably wet and cold, by some very generous locals who treated us to a home cooked meal and excellent company.
September 14. The tweed tour. See following section on Skye.
O my o my, such lovely colors in land and tweed.
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