Racing the UK’s most westerly and remote triathlon, welcome to the Hebrides…

A strange but not unpleasant mixture of powder fills my nostrils. Up ahead, I can see many of the houses dotted around seemingly at random have hung out their washing. Their bed sheets flap horizontally and remind me, if ever I need it, that I’m running into a headwind.

The tarmac on the back road gradually rises and the combination of incline and wind slows my pace. The kilometre markers are slightly out of sync with my watch and like I do when checking the weather forecast, I go with the one that gives me the most cause for optimism.

I’m on the run leg of the Hebrides Triathlon, a standard distance race on the Isle of Lewis in the Outer Hebrides. Up ahead is the sea and despite hearing a variety of places when I’ve asked where the next landfall would be, I can confidently say that North America is the area.

This must be the most north westerly triathlon in the UK, and it certainly feels remote. I’m just about hanging on. The Hebridean landscape does definitely inspire and energise, but I’m looking forward to the finish.

The lollipop run route now heads back along a section I have of course run in the opposite direction about half an hour ago. It looks so different in this direction. I don’t remember these inclines.

My overly optimistic mind tends to forget the bad bits but a slightly more accurate and objective sense of memory on this occasion would I think be helpful. Then again, like running uphill in the fog maybe ignorance is bliss.

There are few questions that are as well received amongst my friends and family as “who’s up for a trip to the Outer Hebrides?”. Our group of ten made the journey, some doing the race either on their own or as a two-person team and others cheering on from the sidelines.

I had had a relaxed and enjoyable summer, but training levels had been low. I was very much at ease with that, but it did mean I needed to control my effort here.

Also, a week beforehand during a school triathlon camp that I was running, I had given into temptation and joined in to play some touch rugby with the kids, and of course badly went over on my ankle!

It still felt poor the day before the race, so I was prepared to walk the run if need be. Like so many of the events I take part in these days, this was all about experience first, race second. This is not a part of the world where you should feel bad for taking your time.

Starting relaxed

Our group assembled in Ullapool in the northwest of Scotland a few days earlier for the ferry crossing. The two-and-a-half-hour journey deposits us in Stornoway from where it’s a half an hour drive to the campsite and race HQ.

It all feels very relaxed and orderly. A few of us ride the bike course the day before and, like so much of life itself here, wind is clearly going to be a factor.

The race starts at a very civilised 11am. We are transported the short distance by bus to the loch-side for the race start. My friends Alan and Mhairi had swum here the day before and assure me the temperature is fine. That is such a personal call though, so I still opt for neoprene hat and boots.

The small field quickly breaks up for the three-lap course in the dark peaty water. It’s a very pleasant swim with my kind of things – big bright buoys and very few strong swimmers. A just about acceptable time passes and I’m up and out.

With some welcomed shouts from the team, I’m onto two wheels. I had thought about bringing up my fancy TT bike but decided against it.

Instead, I’d cobbled together some nice road wheels on my trusty and well used gravel bike with some TT bars. It’s a comfortable combination, and I feel good as I ride out. It was clear that this was going to be a ride of two halves as I batter out into the headwind.

I try to get as aero as possible whilst still maintaining those all-important comfort levels. It feels a struggle, but I can’t help but savour the glorious environment I find myself in – lochs, sea, hills and green lushness plus the odd ever so chilled out sheep sitting at the roadside.

The road surfaces are pretty good too and I grimace and smile in just about equal measure. I’m making my way through the field, but it is slow and energy zapping progress into the wind.

At the far end of the course I pass James Millington. He comes up each year from the Midlands to take part and has done the race every year since 2021.

At the turn around point I’m greeted by a very steep albeit thankfully short piece of tarmac with a sadistic photographer at the top. I’m at the famous Callinish Stones, erected a mere 5000 years ago.

I’m grateful to feel the wind gradually wrapping around me and onto my back. My speed rises and I’m blown back. I’m slowly catching the young Alex Livingston.

I’d like to do so before T2 as I suspect she can run well. I come alongside her and can see she’s riding a road bike and is on the drop handlebars. With TT bars, I reckon I wouldn’t have seen her especially on an exposed wind laden course like this.

Sore but manageable

At T2 I get some more shouts of encouragement from the team – I’m sure I can see a Gin and Tonic in there. The main organiser Donald Smith asks me how the bike was – “a tale of two halves” as predicted is my answer.

Nodding his head, he politely yet knowledgeable informs me that the run will be exactly the same. I spend just a little bit longer than usual to put my run shoes on securely (well more correctly my left one) in preparation for that all important ankle test.

I start to run sheepishly. It’s sore but feels just about manageable. With the wind still at my back I’m running ok, but I look back to see Alex and James not far behind.

Running past the swimming loch and T1, I’m impressed to see the buoys already out of the water and the transition racks all packed away.

All very professional, unlike my running which now slows dramatically as I turn and the wind changes from tail to the head variety.

My ankle is still sore but crucially not worsening. I gently experiment with ever so slightly changing my foot strike position to try and get some subtle movement into it. It seems to work or at least I think it should, and I manage to keep running.

I pass the well-maintained honesty boxes, with eggs and jam seemingly the mainstay. I’ve long loved this place. Like being with that best of old friends, I’ve always had a great time here and love coming back. I genuinely feel energised. I’m clutching an energy gel but know I don’t need it.

Warm but in no way overly so, it’s perfect conditions. Looking back, I see nobody pressing me which is very welcome. I complete the loop and now head back to the finish. I see other competitors heading out and we exchange mutual shouts of appreciation.

I see my friend Dougie closely followed by my wife Becs. They’re both taking part in two person teams, with their respective swimmers Alan and Mhairi long finished and enjoying a local beverage back at the finish.

Then I see the ever-smiling local lass Katie Laing. A bundle of positive energy, her cries of encouragement and high five just about gets me home.

As I approach the finish, I grab my daughter Holly’s hand, and we cross the line. A handshake from Donald and it’s all smiles as I head into the hall to demolish the post-race refreshments.

Magical Scotland

I finished second in two hours and forty-seven minutes. My first reaction was surprise that I’d managed to run the whole way with my ankle, and I was happy with the way I’d managed it.

I’ve long been a believer in the benefit of movement, and I was pleased to have coped so well with the injury, with no adverse side effects the following day.

In terms of room for improvement, I’ve always thought that if you should have you would have, so I was pretty content. My T1 was very slow, and the booties weren’t needed. I’m not sure my fancy TT bike would have been much quicker, and I would have felt somewhat out of place with it even though there were a couple of such bikes on show.

My ankle did feel like it had held me back on the run but then again, these days I only really have one running gear so maybe not. It had been a superbly organised event by Donald and his team.

Even my pedantic and attention to detail old head couldn’t fault it. We were all very impressed and happy, something evidenced by plenty of telling of race stories over dinner that evening accompanied by a great deal of smiles and laughter.

This is a truly magical place to swim, bike and run. It reinforces to me how lucky we are to be able to do so and quite literally immerse ourselves into places such as this.

James came over the line just after me. He comes up each year and makes a holiday of it with his wife and two dogs. They walk, fish, play golf and add in the triathlon. He tells me the 1000-mile journey is an easy sell to his wife. I know what he means.

How to get there – We drove to Ullapool and took the ferry from there to Stornoway on Lewis. You can fly to Stornoway with the main airline being Loganair.

Where to stay – We stayed at the Eilean Fraoich Campsite which is perfectly placed very close to race HQ. There are apartments available for rent on the usual sites as well.

How to make a week of it – The Callanish Stones are one of Scotland’s most famous historical landmarks and well worth a visit. There are some spectacular beaches nearby and particularly on the adjacent area of Harris. The road network is surprisingly good given how sparsely populated the area is. We were very impressed with our out and back road ride to the west side of Lewis at Mealasta. This is also next to the hill of Mealaisbhal which is the highest peak on Lewis.

For more unique challenges like Sean’s Hebrides triathlon, check out these 12 weird and wacky races to challenge yourself in off-season.