2CV Alaska Challenge

Tarbert, Isle of Harris, Saturday 13th March 1999.

Dear Mom

As the HEBRIDEAN ISLES lurched into another trough I came to the conclusion that breakfast had been a bad idea. In fact, that greasy plate of eggs, bacon, sausages, black pudding and beans did not feel comfortable in its rightful place, my stomach. Jose, too, was feeling the effects of our 3 hour ferry crossing to the Outer Hebrides. She lay stretched out across one of the seats, clutching her bag to her stomach, her pale face showing a distinct green hue. The handful of fellow passengers on the ferry were in a similar condition. I never really noticed before, but vomit comes in many shades and textures; rather pretty, really, as it washed about on the deck of the HEBRIDEAN ISLES.

Of course, anyone crossing the Minch at this time of year should expect rough sea conditions. The north Atlantic is not a gentle place during the winter months and it takes it as a kind of personal insult that a group of islands has the arrogance to exist here. Yes, the Outer Hebrides are lashed by wind and rain almost continuously. 70 mph gales are par for the course and it's no wonder that the sheep look so fed-up. Local legend has it that 50 years ago someone tried to plant some trees on the islands, but they were blown to Norway. What's left is a stark, rock-strewn landscape; hills and mountains on the Isle of Harris, peat bogs and small lochs on the Isle of Lewis. A land of rugged beauty hewn by the north Atlantic. Perfect conditions for manic depressives or anyone wishing to test drive a car.