27/8 Hebridean Mobile
A tree, another tree, I can hardly believe it. They call it a forest. After four days on Shetland, an island that really has its charms, now again winding roads through lush greenery. Around 7 a.m. I leave the ferry, quickly find my way out of Aberdeen, and head onto side roads toward the Highlands. More precisely, toward Scotland’s second‑highest mountain, or even Britain’s. The many trees—so a forest—stop abruptly as the road begins to climb the bare hills. An imposing mix of far‑seeing and short‑sightedness, depending on whether sun or clouds hold sway. Sometimes there is sun and rain at the same time. Unfortunately, it’s also a very windy day. Just before the first stage‑goal the wind nearly throws me to the ground in a curve. At the Cairngorm car park there’s a toll gate and I turn back. Further down at Loch Morlich it’s much cozier, almost summery. I shed my rain gear and, with self‑brewed coffee, enjoy the warming sun and the view of the mountains—though they’re mostly shrouded in clouds. Time to think about where to go next. Somehow northwest toward the coast. Maybe even to the ferry for Ullapool, to hop onto the outer Hebrides right away? I check the departure times, as well as a few spots for wild‑camping. Not only because it can be incredibly beautiful, but also because costs on the Shetlands have run a bit out of control. The ferry will be tight, but I won’t put pressure on myself. If I’m there in time I can ask the conductor for a ticket, in case the ferry is still in the harbor. Up to Inverness the road already has almost motorway character and there are hardly any side roads to escape the hustle. Eyes shut and on. Past Inverness the pace eases again and nature becomes imposing once more. Arriving in Ullapool, the check‑in master at the ferry terminal waves me over. Since I don’t have a ticket yet, I’m told to go to the counter; there’s still enough time before the ferry departs. In other words, the ferry isn’t even there yet. Okay, so now the Hebrides after all. I have to study new spots for wild‑camping. In the northeast of the island a wonderful site is described. Strategically also nicely placed in the northeast, because the land behind me blocks a bit of the wind. On the not‑quite‑three‑hour crossing I get to see dolphins in the wild for the first time in my life. Unfortunately they were far too fast to capture in a photo. A highlight of today’s day, though far too brief. From Stornoway the 24 km to the desired campground are quickly covered. Turning a short way toward the beach, a small parking spot opens up in a narrow bay with a sand beach. There’s even a toilet block. And the sharpest thing of all: I’m alone. I set up my tent in a flash before anything else becomes visible. Dusk has already progressed far. The tent stands and I’m just inflating the mattress when two campers suddenly pull into the little spot. The doors swing open and three screaming children burst out, running down to the beach. A barking dog must stay out of the car. It’s explained to him in German. The adults now trudge past me as well, without a word of greeting. And so the romance disappears somewhere in the darkness of night…
When all the clothes are stored away, I pull out a cigar and my flask and stroll over the dune to the beach. I find the romance there again. You don’t see much anymore, but it’s still a wonderful feeling to be standing on the Hebrides and listening to the sea’s roar. As I write these lines, the sound of rain adds itself to the mix. It doesn’t bother me. Lights out, and good, beautiful night!
