Garry Loch, Invergarry

Just Marge and one small van remained on Raasay last night. It felt very isolated, even though the ferry to return us to Skye was berthed in the nearby harbour. An orange glow emitted from the lamps that lit nearby Raasay house penetrating the darkness.

This morning everything changed with the weather. Rain, rain, rain was today's forecast. Oh joy. We'd been spoiled these last couple of weeks. At 10 am the ferry slid into the Sound of Raasay. The Cuillin hills so clearly visible yesterday, sagged under a blanket of low cloud. We had no onward plan. We tried to catch a ferry over to Mallaig, to no avail. First availability tomorrow lunchtime. On the plus side wild garlic grew in abundance nearby, so John filled a bag to satisfy his love of it. So after stopping to buy some fruit, from a small supermarket virtually stripped bare by van shoppers, we drove to Kyleleakin where we made a loose onward plan over lunch. 

Sorry Marge, today's driving will be mostly uphill. Remember the top of one is then a race down to climb the next one. The rain fell lightly, so we were still able to see the view and of course the striking Eileen Donan castle where pink blossoms foamed on cherry trees, brightening the grey day. 

We decided to stop alongside Loch Garry, about fifteen miles from Fort William. This'll do Marge. The rain eased a little and we walked along the shore of the loch, our boots slipping on the wet stones. Silvery speckled leaves of lungwort clung to the trees alongside pale green lichen as light as candy floss. 

Our walk took us to a tiny cemetery set amongst the trees, which of course we entered to read the gravestones, as we always do for some reason. The sign on the gate, ''visitors welcome'. Not just yet thanks!

Sollas, North Uist

A cockerel sounded the dawn this morning, awakening the lapwings and oystercatchers in the nearby grass lands who joined the chorus. The sun once again shone, and once again the wind blew, though the speed a little reduced. We were heading up to North Uist today and had chosen some points of interest we wanted to visit along the way.

Firstly, the ruins of Trinity Temple, a thirteenth century nunnery. Set in a field, populated by sheep, the lambs calling for their mothers as we approached. The building emitted just so much history.

Next the five-thousand-year-old Barpa Langass neolithic chambered cairn. sadly, because of collapse inside we couldn't enter, although John thought Angela could squeeze in. No Way! 

Nearby, the Pobell Fhinn standing stones, easily missed, and unimpressive after the standing stones we'd seen at Callanish on the Isle of Lewis. So, with sightseeing complete it was onto tonight's stop on the north coast.

Wow! A beautiful bay swept out before us, white sand, turquoise water, blue skies. At last, Uists, this is what we'd been looking for. Across the Sound of Harris, we can see the mountains Marge had to cross to come here. It is a very beautiful spot, but very cold, the wind blowing from the north east, hardly ice cream weather. But this'll do wont it, Marge? Let's leave the Uists tomorrow with this view in our memories.

Last night unbeknown to us the northern lights had been visible, and they are due to make an appearance tonight so we'll stay up in the hope of seeing them. Meanwhile there's just us, Marge and the oystercatchers here. So peaceful, just how we like it.

Cula Bay, Benbecula

Marge suffered a battering during the night. The wind didn't relent. Although it wasn't the greatest of overnight spots, we luckily managed to shelter her a little. Despite the unrelenting wind the sun crept out of the clouds and this morning was pleasant enough. We'd read on the 'ever so reliable' internet that there were public showers near the ferry terminal, so we went in search. Result. John, dressed only in essentials went first. He soon returned. An old-style pound coin was required to operate them. It feels remote here, but this was something else. Sorry Marge, your facilities are required. Sitting out the weather for a while we logged into the ferry companies wi-fi, blogged, checked out some overnight locations and the weather. Let's go for it, Marge, hang onto your hat though, it's going to be a rough ride.

First Flora Macdonalds house. She's famous for helping Bonnie Prince Charlie leave Scotland bound for France by rowing him across to the Isle of Skye.

Then, onto the nine-metre granite figure of The Lady of the Isles, The Madonna and child. It was O.K. The view from her better. Then over the causeways that cut through a mosaic of lochs and peat bogs. Marge fighting with the wind all the way.

The Uists are not doing it for us. Whether it's the weather, or the rubbish we don't know. There are old rusting lorries, coaches, farm machinery and well, just rubbish everywhere. It's like being in Scotland's scrapyard. We're sure in the summer, when the wild flowers cover the machair and the heather is purple your eyes will be distracted from the eyesore. 

Cula Bay is tonight's stop. We layered up against the wind, now cold and walked through the sand dunes to a sweeping bay with aquamarine water and incredible stones and pebbles, but sadly yet more rubbish. Come on Uists, you have a day and a half to impress us.