On North Uist, hoping to get to St Kilda, our days began with sunshine slanting through the clouds. Then we would phone our boatman and he would report a heavy swell far out to sea. In the Hebrides even the best-laid plans depend on the weather, and every morning we were thwarted by a deepening depression to the west.
So, over scrambled eggs and Stornoway black pudding, we would formulate plan B. For Sandy and his dad, this soon evolved into a pattern of manic driving and birdwatching. We usually set out on our own, taking advantage of a ticket that allowed a week’s unlimited ferry travel.
Heading north, across the Sound of Harris, for the standing stones of Callanish, we passed a string of beaches with sand the colour of clotted cream, as fine as any in the world. Yet even at the height of summer there was scarcely anyone around.
The Western Isles seem to have a confused, uncomfortable relationship with visitors. Coach tours still thunder along single-track roads, but their ageing clientele is a dying breed. At Callanish we came across a different kind of visitor: new-age hippies, their faces pressed against the stones. They did not intend to be the first to move. Then my wife shouted: “Look! A flying saucer!” It is quite something to see 40 hippies spring out of a trance.
On our return to North Uist, Sandy took us to a stone circle just a few hundred yards from our hotel. It was not quite on the scale of Callanish, but to be there as the shadows lengthened was a magical experience.
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“There’s a tomb over the hill,” Sandy told us. “I’ve been down inside it, but the bodies have all gone.”
By chance he had stumbled on Barpa Langass, one of Scotland’s largest and best-preserved passage graves. The Western Isles are rich in ancient sites, most of them unmarked and unexplained. At Carinish, on North Uist’s south shore, we came across the ruins of the Teampall na Trionaid, or Trinity Temple, a medieval seat of learning where the philosopher Duns Scotus is reputed to have taught in the 13th century. On the mainland such a site would be carefully conserved, with interpretation boards at every turn. Here it was utterly wild, brambles trailing through its tumbled vaults.
On one level it is a welcome contrast to the overregulated world this side of the Minch. But ancient monuments are falling down, and nobody seems to care. This casual approach is also apparent in the level of service visitors are offered. We were fortunate in our hotel, Langass Lodge, where rooms and food proved equally superb. We also enjoyed one good dinner out, at the Orasay Inn on South Uist. But otherwise, from Lewis to Barra, we endured some truly dreadful meals, with tasteless prawns and grey reheated slabs of meat, served at prices no city restaurant would dare charge.
The Western Isles have much to offer — with their outstanding scenery, wildlife, archeology and more besides. Despite failing to reach St Kilda, we all enormously enjoyed our stay. But standards have to be improved for tourism to thrive beyond the age of coach tours or Sandy’s generation will, in time, choose to holiday elsewhere.
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Details: Calmac (08705 650000, www.calmac.co.uk) sails from Ullapool to Stornoway, offering flexible Island Rover tickets.
Langass Lodge, North Uist (01876 580285) has double rooms and breakfast from £90.
The Orasay Inn, South Uist (01870 610298) offers standard doubles from £82.