Great Bernera

...and so the slog continued, at a snail's pace. No let up from the evil wind.

But to be fair, the rather monotonous views of the peat bogs of Lewis were relieved on the last six or seven miles to Great Bernera, where the scenery was much more interesting. But our legs were now like lead. Molten lead, to be more precise.

We finally arrived at the plain, but picturesque white bridge (opened 1953) joining 'GB' to Lewis. We should then have returned and gone to Breasclete via Callanish (standing stones) but we were knackered. After only 40 miles!

We went a further 2 miles to Breaclete, and asked at the Petrol Station/Post Office/General Store if there were any B&Bs. 'Nobody seems to be doing it any more' was the reply. Perhaps Mrs MacAuley..? No reply to our phone call. 'She may be at the Community Centre playing bowls.'

So off I went on my bike to the centre, where Mrs M was indeed playing bowls, but she didn't do B&B any more. I asked very nicely if she could come out of retirement and she agreed.

So here we are. Possibly one of the remotest places in the British Isles.

Never was so much energy expended to achieve so few miles. But at least, look at the view from my bedroom...