Leverburgh, South Harris.

No post on Sundays.

Our only option on this day of worship was to hope that the vagabond gods would shine down and bring lifts a-plenty.

One of the best tips to hitch a lift is to walk slowly up a hill, exaggerate the weight of your load and to turn and face any car passing by. Once in the car, you have to pretend that your sweaty back is not sticking to seat, and that the salty residue was there all along.

We walked out of Leverburgh, where the ferry docked from North Uist, and swung a lift up towards the huge, golden beaches. A conflict enters one's mind, however; it's all good and well to arrive on the shores of the turquoise waters you've sought for the last few days but when the lifts keep coming by it's often too tempted not to get ahead of your self.

We pushed North, allured by the illusion of infinity pristine beaches - surely they'll carry on north of Tarbert... - but, you see, they don't. Our lame little map didn't tell us that. So we unwittingly pushed too far North.

We left the German tourists who gave us a lift just before the mountains of North Harris, at a small junction to nowhere. "Is everything okay?" they asked, semi-jokingly, as we hauled our luggage out the boot. "Probably"...

In a haze of denial we walked for 45 minutes looking for a beach. We knew where they all were, though; ten miles behind us. Our sole option consisted of a steep grassy verge, leading down to some boulders. We only had three small tins of beans left because of the Sunday thing and our tent was squint.

You had to embrace the lop-sidedness in the end and sleep where your body rolled. But to put this off for as long as possible we spent time sat down on the rock and watched a man in a rowing boat carve a long, slow arc into the water.

From the comfort of his wooden contraption he, in turn, would have seen us - not as comfortable, cross-legged on the rock holding plates against the wind to shield our stove.

He probably would have fought against the same wind the came rushing from the mountains, pushing the stove onto its side from which ensued a large and chaotic flame.

We spilled the beans...

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