Rat Race The Isles - day 2. South Uist, Benbecula, Grimsay and North Uist

After yesterday's fun, we decided that my sitting beside Andy's bed saying "there there, dear" would be about as useful as suntan cream on Barra, and probably annoy the both of us within ten minutes. So Andy decided I ought to go on a little run.

Day 2 of Rat Race The Isles is 60km of varied terrain, consisting of bog, road, bog, hill, bog, beach, bog, another hill and more bog. OK, maybe not so varied after all. I did, however, get a rest from the extreme weather and hill conditions of day one - this day was far more in keeping with the sort of running we were more used to.

A friend once described my beloved Ford Cortina as "a collection of rust loosely joined by weld". In the same way, the route today went through a landscape covered with water - lakes (lochlans, as I have been told to call them) everywhere to run around, and causeways between the individual islands. It was certainly a landscape I'd never seen before.

The bogs, of course, were ever present - my feet were soaked in the first half hour, and stayed that way all day. However, the absence of wind and the fact that you weren't fighting a time deadline made the bog

sections far more survivable, and there was enough variation that you were never in them for too long before the terrain shifted again.

 The weather forecast was for wind and rain to come in at about 4pm, so the obvious plan was to try and push the pace on any section I could actually run on, survive the bogs as well as possible, and try and get in by 4pm. They'd told us that the day's run finished at a pub, which was far more the sort of run I was used to (no sniggering, the Rutland Running mob!). I even tried to stay up with S, who gives me ten years but is absolutely indefatigable, and also good company. We ran with each other past the golf balls of South Uist radar early warning station, and past something that looked like a smaller version of the Statue of Liberty but was actually called "Our lady of the Isles". It was apparently erected as a symbol of peace, and looks out on the aforementioned golf balls and the MOD firing range below. I'm not sure whether that was defiance or just irony. I have no photos of it, as it was up a steep hill from the road we were on, followed by a set of steps. With 47km still to go that day, S and I decided that we didn't need to add to it.

I had a quick break at the first feed station of the day, and then after more bog we hit our first causeway, from South Uist over to Benbecula. The causeways meant a day without ferries, but some were fairly narrow (a main road on the islands is one where two cars can actually pass each other without needing passing places) so there was a certain amount of car dodging. Kudos to the guy who saw me coming and actually pulled into a passing place so that I could stay on the road. This one, however, actually had a pavement. And a sign which from a distance looked as if it was saying "dinosaurs crossing" - on closer inspection, it was talking about otters.

Having started early at 7am, the second feed station and lunch came up at 10:30, which felt perfectly logical at the time. More cheese and mayo wraps, refill both bottles (it was a warmer day with far less wind, and I was hitting the water hard - which, to be fair, was what I should have been doing). Somewhere around now, Andy was whirring overhead in her private helicopter on her way to Stornoway - some of the rest of the group saw it, but I didn't. I may have been in the bog at the time it went over.

Not far after lunch we were down to the beach, with the option of running along it or along the path above. It would have been the perfect moment for the Chariots of Fire soundtrack, but the vast clumps of seaweed on the beach made that an obstacle course, so I stuck to the path. A small detour inland (and departing from the GPX track we were following, which looked as if its creator had gone swimming at that point) and back to the beach - this time, I took the sand option, which was pretty easy to run on. A long haul up a very straight road followed, heading up into the hills, and I passed feedstation three - 38km down by 1pm. Very happy with progress,  and the weather was still holding. I also passed an odd house all on its own painted blue:

Clearly, the sad story of Mr Blue the bagpipe tuner from Balamory, who was exiled to the islands, had never made it to the TV series!

It was lunchtime for the average person, and felt like about tea time for me, but the reward for finally making it to the end of the unending straight road was a hill climb to an amazing view. The whirr of the team photographer's drone welcomed me, so I managed to finish the last little distance to the trig point at something that was at least a shuffle rather than a walk. I don't think I fooled anyone either.

The route down from the hill was far slower than the way up, and very difficult to find. Up to this point the route had been well waymarked with white posts, but just when I needed one there were none to be seen. The GPX line went directly cross country, all of which was heather loosely disguising more water and bog. Descent was a matter of just picking a route and hoping. Some paddling and swearing later, people's various opinions of the path came together and there was a route forward to follow. That 5km from the top of the hill to where we broke out onto the road took an hour and a half, and put me well behind my personal weather schedule. However, the skies were still clear (by Hebridean standards) and the wind was still moderate (again, by Hebridean standards - round here, the Beaufort scale starts at about number 5), so my luck was still holding. Back onto the road, and the next set of causeways. And the venue for the Hebrides bog snorkeling match, complete with the committee boat to time the starts and finishes:

Back on the causeway, the next amusement was the car going the same way as me suddenly pulling into a passing place. I couldn't at first see what he was waiting for, but then half a dozen sheep came along the road in the opposite direction - not being driven, they'd just decided they wanted to wander over to another island. The grass was possibly greener there, or something.

Final feed station, and 10k to go to the end - and the weather still holding. The Hebrides don't make it that easy for you, though, and a couple of road km later we were back up into the hills and bog. It seems to be a requirement on the route that just at the point you think your feet might be drying, the route ensures that you are paddling again.

It's difficult to describe the beauty of the water landscape when the weather is kind, and the last section around another set of lakes was one such. There was also a path,  which made looking around far easier, although not really much drier.

I'd missed my self-imposed 4pm deadline (although actually the weather didn't close down until much later, in the end) but it was a great end to the day. I finally came into the pub at about 4:30pm, having taken nine and a half hours, 3.5 litres of water, and about 8 chocolate bars to do 60km. All in all, a good day's run.