Walking the Hebridean Way was my summer in Scotland plan. I had been inspired by Isobel Wylie Hutchison, a fellow female explorer, who had visited the islands 101 years ago and written about them for National Geographic.

The Hebridean Way is a 250km long distance walking trail that takes you across 10 islands in the Outer Hebrides. You start at Vatersay and finish at Stornoway. crossing six causeways and riding two ferries. ‘I’ll do it properly,’ I thought. ‘Solo, self-supported and wild camping.’

I bought the book and the map and downloaded the AllTrails app. I packed with minimalist fervour. One pair of clothes for day and one for night, ultra lightweight power banks bought at enormous expense, 1 gas cannister and one spare and three sets of breakfast and dinner emergency rations. No extra stuff.

Gratifyingly, my Mum couldn’t even lift my backpack. Then again, she is a game 86.

Day 1, I woke up at 5 am with the light and got straight on it. I saw a seal on my first causeway and had already crossed into my second island, Barra, by 9am. ‘I am a Goddess,’ thought I. ‘A hiking phenomenon.’ 

Goddess for a nanosecond

Ten minutes later, I hit the bog. 15 minutes later, I was semi-submerged up to my right thigh looking up at a ponderous sky. My arms and free leg waved uselessly in the air. My rucksack was weighting me to the ground. Goddess no longer – I was a beetle on my back.

Discouraged, I sought refuge in coffee and cake at the Isle of Barra Beach Hotel. Trying to be helpful, I took my sodden boots and socks off and walked across the floor – leaving wet Robinson Crusoe footprints on the beautiful parquet. The lovely sisters who run the hotel clearly thought I was mad but kindly gave me a woolly hat when I told them I’d forgotten to pack one.

Over the next days, I walked through machair, past roundhouses over 4000 years old. I tried to imagine how hard life must have been then – no Craghoppers jacket, adventure foods and handy gas stoves for them. They must have been cold and wet all the time.

Beaches along the Hebridean Way

The beaches are glorious in the Hebrides. Aquamarine seas and dazzling white sand. Often, completely empty except for history. This is where Bonnie Prince Charlie landed to start his ill-fated campaign to win back the crown which ended in the wholesale slaughter of so many Scots and contributed to the clearances which emptied the Highlands and Islands.

The Uists were like a magical water world with lochans glinting everywhere. The sun came out for me on Harris where I had both my best days and my worst.

Ten hours to walk five miles is not a good scenario. I had woken up full of vigour, leapt out of the tent for a quick wee and then leapt straight back in as the swarm of midges attacked. Breakfast was accomplished by me sticking one hand out to cook and then knocking over my stove and slightly setting fire to the flysheet. Midge net on, I struck camp and set off.

Bog … off

3 hours later, I had done a mile and a half and lost the will to live. The problem? Peat bog sucking my feet into its fetid depths with every step, no path, hilly terrain cunningly hiding way posts and no real sense of direction when I lost sight of the sea. There were three bridges on that day, the only dry spots, and I spent at least an hour on each one trying to dry out my feet, cook up some dry food and weep inwardly.

The next days were my best. There were paths over the hills, the sun shone and the wind blew the midges away. This section to Tarbert and beyond was truly enjoyable and the scenery was ravishing.

13 days in and I had become a walking health hazard. No washing or clothes changing and plenty of physical activity. In my minimalist frenzy I hadn’t even packed a spare pair of knickers. I had tried to wash them once and dry them on top of my porridge pot to no avail. Damp pants. The tent with me in it stank like an adolescent boy’s laundry basket.

The Kinloch Historical Society

Then, a miracle. I had stopped at the Kinloch Historical Society Community Hub for tea and a bun in the café and a look at the exhibition. It was of a bonnet and personal items including a beard comb (yep there were hipsters even 300 years ago) from the body of a young man discovered in the peat. He is the Arnish Moor man and lived in the Hebrides in the 1700s. Theory has it he may have been murdered.  All was explained by Gemma who showed me round and then went above and beyond by showing me how to use the laundrette in the community hub. Joy! Her co-worker, Anna, even told me the best place to camp a couple of miles down the road.

This kindness was universal and one of the best bits of my adventure. I was invited in for tea by Ian and Annie at Lochmaddy and helpfully warned about the ticks; Rob in Barra airport gave me coffee and biscuits and then insisted I take his cappuccino and cup-a-soup sachets for the journey; Pippa saw me pitching in a field, limping in my sliders and came over with a plate of hot food. Lots of people offered me lifts too as I trudged along the tarmac. I didn’t take them of course –  though tempting, so tempting.

The Callanish Stones

I finished in good spirits in Stornoway to be met by my friend Naldy who I was at school with and hadn’t seen for 45 years! It made the ending special and she couldn’t have been more hospitable, letting me shower (actually that may have been self-preservation), feeding me beef and vegetables and taking me up to see the Butt of Lewis and the Callanish Stones.

Hiking the Hebridean Way was an adventure. The terrain was hard as it alternated bog and tarmac for long sections which shredded the feet. The views were soul-enhancing and there was virtually no-one else walking. I was alone in the wilderness for long stretches. That was a privilege and a pleasure.

If you enjoyed reading walking the Hebridean Way, check out my books or podcast and there are lots of pictures on my Instagram feed.

Best piece of kit for this? My Vango Helium UL2 tent – highly recommended

The next big adventure is stage 2 of the Saudi Expedition. Follow along!