Second day of riding in the Outer Hebrides: From somewhere atop Clisham, to Horgabost, South (or West?) Harris.

What is it about the beach that regenerates?

Just around that bend, then a few more, plus a couple hills, there is a town, And food.

A beach, regardless of the climate, seems to soothes the soul.

The ride down (with several more ups) the mountain resulted in a late breakfast (thank you AGAIN for serving me a half hour after you stopped serving people) at the ONLY restaurant open in all of the Outer Hebrides on a Sunday, more ups, one big glorious down (with a few more ups), there was a beach. Not just a beach.  If you added a few palm trees and jacked up the temperature about 30°F it would have been an amazing tropical beach.  But was a beautiful cove with acres of white sand, islands across the water, bordered by rocky outcroppings and aqua blue water.

Everything about this leg was lovely.  The scenery was stark and beautiful, the people met along the way were generously kind, and the whole experience felt like weight lifting off the shoulders.  Was it the beach?  Maybe.

But the next day, retracing my route, the big down didn’t seem to translate into as big an up.  Maybe fresh legs.  Or maybe just a day on the beach.

 

 

Campsite at Horgabost, with Luskentyre in the background. The solar panel attached to my tent was a life saver. Or at least a phone saver. I brought it in at “night” (it never got completely dark) and there was enough light that the charging indicator light stayed on most of the night.

Seilibost, looking toward Luskentyre. There is so much white sand that the water has that beautiful tropical aqua color.

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