Independent overland travel through Africa in a Unimog called Moglet

Amazingly we were up and about at before 8am! This week or so on the Outer islands is the first time since we left that we really have a proper timeframe to be working to - whatever happens, we have to be just outside of Lancaster by 8.30am on Monday 2nd March for Moglet to be prepped for her MOT later that week. With that in mind, we've made a conscious decision to go to bed at a reasonable hour, get up early and make the most of every day. As lovely as lie-ins and chilling out are, coming back all this way to see a few bits we didnt have time to see this time would be really pricey. So we need to make that sacrifice and get our arses out of bed nice and early!

So, standing stones, here we come. Saw a house with a grass roof on the way - makes sense to build into the landscape where the weather here can be so harsh, but judging by the amount of condensation on their windows they could do with a little more ventilation as well as all that insulation.

Standing stones aplenty on this route, and Jason was determined to touch them all, just in case there was a magical tingle! No tingles but lots of photo's later, we found ourselves about half way up the eastern coast of Lewis in a bay called Uig (yes, same name as the island, confusing I know!). This one was a really fantastic location for us, another track in the middle of nowhere with a simple toilet block and a vast, perfect beach all to ourselves. Apparently in the 1800's a chap found a viking 'chess' set with 78 pieces on the beach, so naturally we had to go have a little to look, see if we could turn up any treasure! No treasure found, viking or otherwise, but it was a really fantastic beach, the slope out to the sea must have gone on for a good half a mile, perfect for kite flying or anything else wind based that needs a good flat stretch of nothingness - you could imagine throwing a frisbee for the dog and the poor thing having to run for 10 minutes to fetch it!

With the tide coming in and darkness falling once again, we headed back to our home on wheels for tea and an early night. I know its a daft thing to be impressed by but, in 2005 I think it was, the Scottish government passed legislation which means it's now much easier to wild camp north of the border than it is in good old Blighty. You know those bright yellow annoying 'No Overnight Camping' signs that are in every single damn layby in most of the UK? The posts for them are still in plenty of places here but the signs themselves are gone and they've been replaced by much less grumpy things like 'Please take your litter home'. What's really impressive is that this doesn't seem to be being abused - despite the sites we've been staying in being pretty desolate and off most tourist tracks, where there are toilets they've always been in good condition, not necessarily new but certainly a welcome sight. There's always been loo roll and even hand cleaner and an air freshener block in the one we're in tonight! Whether that's visitors taking care of things or a local maintaining it, I cant help but make comparisons to toilet blocks in more southerly parts of the mainland that are often a shocking disgrace and an embrassment to present to tourists. In the spirit of things, we finished off one of the loo rolls that was there when we arrived, so we replaced it with a new one before we left. If everyone left things in the state they found them, I think things would be in a lot more pleasant state that we often find them - even flushing the toilet properly seems to be beyond the intelligence of some people. Rant rant rant!

So, there we are first thing in the morning and there's a knock at the door. No, not really, but there was a definite noise outside - heilan coo's on the doorstep! Nice to have visitors first thing in the morning, and all totally unflustered by the sound of Moglet starting up and trundling off down the road, heading up the west coast to get to the top of Lewis.

The route today was scattered with sites we wanted to stop at, standing stones, brochs and blackhouses galore, including the Callanish standing stones (the largest site on the islands) so Jason was in anticipatory heaven! The Callanish stones were impressive in their size and number, but the location itself lost loads of impact because as you crested the hill and saw the stones, you couldn't help but also notice the pylons and housing estate directly behind it. Most of the sites we've seen so far have been in the middle of nowhere but this one was well touristified, with a visitor centre (closed) and information boards (inaccurate and contradictory amongst themselves). All in all, we both felt a much stonger sense of the weight of history at other much smaller sites, so this one was a little disappointing.

But ever onwards, we travelled a couple of miles down the road to the site of a broch - huge drystone towers that are only found in Scotland. They look kind of like massive stone cairns and the theory goes that although they would have been used for storage, they were pretty much a status symbol by the local big cheese landowner - a kind of 'Mine's bigger than yours' approach. Some things never change!

Next up was a blackhouse village, inhabited until as recently as 1974, which had been renovated over the last 10 years. We went there expecting the restoration to show exactly how people used to live in them several generations ago, but the restoration seemed to have been aimed at putting the buildings back to the condition they were in during the 70's - double glazed windows included!

Travelling on from there, we'd seen a marker on the OS map for a Norse kiln and water mill which we thought was worth a look. Once we got there, we were really glad we'd made the trip - it's amazing to be able to get up close to something so old, thats been so well renovated. It also looked like it'd been restored to full working order, as the water channels that allowed the mill and kiln to work had been re-dug and lined with stones - possibly something they demonstrate in the 'proper' tourist season?

Back in Moglet, we continued our journey all the way up ot the very top of the island - for some reason named by a genius as 'The Butt of Lewis'. It's capped with another Stephenson lighthouse, although one far less charismatic than the one by the Old man of Stoerr. We went for a stroll along the top until it got dark, although the amount of cliffedge that had already fallen into the water below, or was clearly on the way, freaked me out a little bit and I was more than happy to turn around.

Just the one night spent here, then the plan is to head back south and ultimately make our way onto the ferry on Friday.