Aird a' Mhorain (a shaggy dog story)

[nigheandonn]

By Thursday night my grand plans to finish up on the South Uist hills were coming apart, as much because of my broken suitcase as sheer tiredness (or possibly vice versa) - the plan had always depended on an evening bus from the ferry, three miles away, and even if I got the earlier bus down that bit, Howmore was half a mile or more from the road at the other end. So it would be North Uist to the end - almost - and another chance at the Lees on Saturday before heading south for the Sunday morning ferry.

That at least let me off another 7:30 start on Friday - fine if it's quiet and you get to bed early, but not so good day after day when there's always something going on and people coming to bed in the early hours. But even an hour or two later I wasn't feeling very enthuastic about a long road walk out to Crogearraidh na Thobha, after the long walk back to the main road the night before, and I was kind of glad that the weather seemed to agree with me, with the cloud sitting so low that even the lowest hills were covered.

So I went out to the 9:45 bus still with no very definite idea of where I was going to go, and said Sollas to the driver probably as much because I was worrying about running out of milk as anything else! But if I'd climbed Eaval and Crogarry Mor for one Uist song, there was still Aird a' Mhorain tempting me with another*, and a good low level walk.

Reaching Sollas I realised that I should really have got off at Greinetobht, to go to the co-op last, and walked back to where the little road goes off, where a collie in a garden barked at me enthusiastically, and another dog running free came up to bark as well, apparently indignant that I should be barked at by anyone else!

Past the houses the road just fades out into a sandy track, leading off down the edge of the little headland.

Sandy track

I'd thought the second dog would see me off the road and then turn back, but apparently it wanted a walk on the sands as well and went wandering off into the dunes in spite of a sign saying that dogs must be kept on leads.

Shaggy dog

With the tide well out the sands reached right across the bay - there's a little tidal island called Orosaigh, one of many by that name, and then the hills by the Berneray road rising behind.

Sands and hills

I thought the dog had vanished into the dunes, where I'd had occasional glimpses of it hopefully chasing rabbits, but after a while it reappeared, clearly determined to escort me. It was a nice thing, if a bit of a daft lump - black lab size and shape and colour, but with a shaggier coat and definitely non-labrador face and ears - maybe a German Shepherd cross? But if I wanted to take a dog for a walk I would have one of my own - only I wanted even less to leave it wandering round the machair with possible sheep and cows, which made me feel a bit responsible.

I had intended to walk out to the trig point on the tiny hill at the end of the headland - I would miss the 12:35 bus to Berneray that way, but there was a 13:20 to Lochmaddy that I should make - but part of the way out a miserable squall of rain came in, and instead I cut across just past the end of the fence towards the dunes on the other side.

The fences were past, but the farmland wasn't - I would be walking across rough grass, and then suddenly find that what was ahead of me was an unenclosed patch planted with oats, distinguished really only by the different coloured flowers.

Machair fields

I came out just south of the little point of Udal, as mentioned in the song.

Udal

The west side was equally sandy but completely different, a great sweep of beach.

West beach

The dog thought this was wonderful, and wanted to play fetch all along it with stalks of kelp, which might have been more successful if he hadn't stopped after every throw to chew a bit off!

As I walked along the shore here I was coming closer to another tidal island, Vallay.

Vallay

I knew I had to turn inland at some point, but did it a bit too early and got muddled up in fences again - which I climbed when I couldn't find a gate, and the dog slipped under with a practiced air.

A little graveyard on a rise was a useful landmark, although I found myself dodging around invisible planted fields again to reach it. It turned out to be not at all historic, but it did have a useful track leading to it, a nice change from dunes and rough grass.

Old graveyard

About halfway down the track we passed a house where 'my' dog made instant friends with a little brown thin dog behind a fence - love at first sight - but then at the gate four other dogs came rushing out and became instant enemies - upset enough that one of them took a bite at *me*, although fortunately it only got my trouser leg!

The commotion attracted the owner, who came out and called off his horde - but when I set off down the track again I found I now had *two* dogs following me, the little brown one having slipped quietly out - and that was just more than I was willing to deal with.

Fortunately I managed to return the second dog and convince it to stay behind without attracting any of the others again, and made my way back to the co-op, where a kind of consultation was held, and the dog was identified and turned over the the bus driver to be put back where it belonged!

By the time I got back to Berneray the sun was splitting the sky, and after a visit to the little heritage centre I walked along to the end of the road, where there was a rumour of a tearoom (it seemed to have been swallowed up in building works), and sat on the beach reading and sunbathing for a while, before walking back along the beach to the hostel.

Later on I went out to look at two buildings which the heritage centre had told me about - one is just behind the hostel, and is known as Macleod's Gunnery - birthplace of Sir Norman Macleod, who fought in the English Civil Wars, and the oldest surviving building on Berneray, although it's only just surviving at the moment.

Macleod's battery

The inscription over the door commemorating him is in Latin, which is nice and historical.

Macleod's battery inscription

The other was the old church of Berneray, one of Telford's parliamentary churches - in ruins in the heritage centre's phot, but now restored as a house. This was built with two doors, one for people from Berneray and one for people from Pabbay, but when I tried to take a photo of that side my camera battery died. The church is built at the north end of the island to be close to Pabbay, but why they couldn't go in the same door I have no idea!

Old church

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* This post would have been called 'Air an sgiath seo dh'Uibhist' if it hadn't been for the dog!

[kevsbald]

What a great read! Must get over there.

[dogplodder]

Great account of walk with unsolicited dog pal. It's funny the way they attach themselves and we end up feeling responsible for whatever they get up to!

[nigheandonn]

It is a bit silly, I suppose - if it had just wandered into the dunes I would have left it, but once it had accepted my choice of route I did feel a bit responsible!

It's a lovely part of the world - good beaches!

[bargee]

I ahd the same a few years back walking the Pennine way, the pub dog from the Tan hill in followed me across Sleighthome moor and in the end I had to ring the pub and they came to collect ot from near the crossing with the A66, they said it was a common occurence, you do feel responsible but as well you dont want to retrace your steps to return them either.

[nigheandonn]

I like the Tan Hill story - I thought it was sheep they kept in their bar

But at least you knew where your dog belonged - mine was just wandering about in the road when I met it, and turned out to belong up on the other side of the main road!