Monthly Archives: June 2013

Leg 42 – to Oban

I’ve started to write this from inside my tent, on a rainy and blustery evening in Annan, which is a few miles from the border with England. I’m a bit behind on my blog, having been busy putting in some long legs, or meeting people, or finding other more interesting things to do which I’ll write about later. Figure it’s more important to see and do as much as possible, over blog writing. So even though I’ll be in England soon I suspect my blog will remain in Scotland for at least two more weeks.

12 June 2013

I awoke feeling itchy again. Either the midge bites from Kilchoan were still playing up or I’d got new ones last night. I suspected the latter. I had a quick breakfast and shower, before a rapid pack up due to rain. Shaking the water off my tent gave me my second shower of the day.

Packing up – a wet day with Ben Nevis opposite

Leaving the campsite post paying up and checking the weather forecast, which wasn’t brilliant, I cycled down the road to the car park where one of the trails up Ben Nevis starts. The mountain was shrouded in cloud but there were still several groups of brave, or perhaps foolhardy walkers about to begin making their way up. I’d climbed Ben Nevis several years before doing the Three Peaks Challenge, in better weather, and it had still been below freezing at the top. You wouldn’t have been able to see much today, and whilst the trail is very well marked there a few bits you could go wrong on. Hopefully there wouldn’t be any mountain rescue interventions required.

After reminding myself of at least what the bottom of Ben Nevis looks like, I rode around to Neptune’s Staircase, with the sun starting to come out, a bit anyway. I counted 13 lochs, although there may have been more. A couple of boats were making their way down from the Caledonian Canal, a process which must take a few hours by the looks of it.

Top of the Staircase

Boat in transit

Loch gates

Leaving the lochs behind, and studiously avoiding cycle paths, I made my way down the road to Inverlochy, where I knew there was a decent bike shop. Nevis Cycles didn’t have a suitable replacement wheel, but reckoned their sister shop in Oban might, and they’d be able to replace my rear cassette which was getting pretty worn and causing my chain to skip. You need to replace your rear cassette every 2000 miles or so really, and the chain more often than that as it stretches. I’d need to get another new chain before I got back to Norwich, but hoped one more cassette would see me through.

On my way south I stopped in Fort William again, and dropped in to Alpine Bikes who did have a new wheel that would fit. I found our later it was a 130mm hub rather than a 135mm which my bike fits, but the steel frame can accommodate a smaller size without any problems. The rim was far more suitable, even if it was a Mavic again, having 32 spokes and being a lot stronger. Cost me £80.00 but figured it was worth it, and I bid adios to the current incumbent, which looked in a bit of a sorry state. Wheel number 3 fitted I was ready to go. Hopefully that would be the last one I’d need to buy on this tour!

Whilst I was waiting for the wheel to be be changed over I had a wander about Fort William. I dropped into Cotswolds first to see if they had a replacement cable for my Power Monkey, however unfortunately they don’t sell just the cable and would need to send the whole unit back. This just wouldn’t have been practical given I was still very much using the rechargeable battery pack, and wouldn’t be in the area to pick up a new unit. Irritating however I’d survive, and maybe order just the cable off the Internet and get it delivered somewhere on route. After perusing a few outdoor shops and deciding their stuff was mostly overpriced and not that good, I dropped into a bakery and picked up a venison pie, which was pretty scrumptious. Scrumptious is a good word.

Fort William high street

Fort William – random statue of someone sitting down…

Wheel changed and panniers reloaded, I pedalled south from Fort William as the rain started, around midday. The weather being a bit grim I just kept my head down and got on with it, riding down the A82. It’s a busy road and wasn’t very pleasant with lorries kicking up spray everywhere, leaving me somewhat grimy and wetter. I stopped in Corran for a loo break and looked across to where I’d been yesterday; the other side of the Loch had been a lot pleasanter at the time, but the weather had closed in now.

View across from Corran to Ardgar

Not really concentrating, thinking about cycling somewhere dry and warm, I crossed the bridge at Ballachulish only realising about a mile later, after glancing at the map, that I’d intended on cycling around Loch Leven. Oh well, I’d only missed out a few miles, and it was touch and go whether that was true coast or semi coast anyway. Given the weather I wasn’t overly concerned, especially as my legs were felling tired post yesterday’s efforts.

I rode on down the A828, again just mostly keeping my head down, before reaching Appin and turning off the main road to do the loop through Port Appin and North Shian. I passed Castle Stalker which looked pretty impressive, standing alone out on the rocks.

Castle Stalker 1

The castle was built when there weren’t any connecting roads in the area, in the 1400s by Clan Macdougal, and most traffic and travellers came in by sea. It therefore commanded quite a strategic position at the time.

Castle Stalker 2

Castle Stalker 3

Castle Stalker 4

James IV used to visit the castle frequently on hunting trips, having connections with the Stewart family. The castle was in the Stewart family until Mac Ian Stewart gave it away in a moment of drunken folly, swapping it for a boat. Oops, I wonder how he felt the morning. I’ve woken up before thinking, ‘oh no, I didn’t did I?’, but nothing that bad. Reckon he never lived that one down.

The weather improved slightly with the rain easing off. I was feeling a bit drained after the Appin loop, which had a few unexpected hills, so I stopped at the well known Creegan Inn for a bite to eat and to dry off a bit. Great plate of chilli beef and bean stew, which warmed me up nicely for the next session. I pressed on to Barcaldine and down to Connel, over the bridge again as there’s no road around Loch Etive.

From there it was only a short ride down to Oban, although I foolishly took a couple of cycle paths which led me somewhat astray, and meant I had to negotiate a couple of swing gates with my heavy bike again. The scenery had been good today, despite the rain, with lots of Rhodedendrons which as mentioned before are evil but look nice. They need to be be cut back significantly, if not removed completely really.

Bridge to Connel

Altnacraig – my brakes really squealed on the hill down, adjustments required

I arrived in Oban about 18.00 and stumbled upon a backpackers plus hostel. I had been intending to camp just south of Oban, but as I had a lot of damp kit, needed to recharge stuff, and felt like avoiding midges, I thought why not? It was only just over £20 for my own room, or £17 to bunk in the dorm; I opted for my own room which felt a bit extravagant but after several weeks under canvas I thought I’d earned it. Breakfast included in the price. They also have a large lounge area you can just chill out in, and chat to other travellers stopping by, with free wifi which is always a bonus.

Cloudy skies off Oban, ferry outgoing

Road around to Oban

View from Oban seafront, across to Kerrera

Backpackers plus hostel

I washed some clothes, that really needed washing; they were about to run off to pastures new. The shower was bliss, best I’d had in ages, and there was a real bed! I nearly fell asleep there and then but hunger drove me downstairs. There was a large group of Italian girls in residence, and I felt obliged to assist them with the washing machine, and translating its various functions. They were most appreciative of my help, but didn’t offer dinner, so I was forced to head out onto the mean streets of Oban. I ‘hoped’ I’d told them the right programme and hadn’t shrunk all their clothes.

Walking around Oban I heard the distant drone of bagpipers getting closer, discovering at least 3 pipe bands down by the harbour entertaining tourists. I think they were school bands, and they were quite good, but I’d almost had enough of the pipes by this stage – they are in every even vaguely tourist place in Scotland.

I opted for a Chinese meal, craving something different, and had some excellent steamed dumplings, followed by crispy shredded chilli beef. Yum. Post a pint in an Irish bar I headed back to the hostel feeling rather full. Unfortunately none of the Italian girls were in, so no massages were on offer, dammit, so I opted for an early night instead. I tried to type a blog post but kept falling asleep, and then the app crashed and I lost two draft posts. Calling it a night I dozed off. The bed felt a bit weird, I preferred a more natural substrate by this stage.

My room at Backpackers Plus

Edited with BlogPad Pro

Leg 41 – to Fort William from Mull

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I ate quite a lot today, grazing frequently on the contents of my panniers, and hence going though nearly all my chocolate, a bag of Haribos, two apples, a banana, pork pies, and other assorted food stuffs. It was a long day with 109 miles of pedalling!

11 June 2013

I roused myself out of my tent about 7.30, to an overcast and breezy day. I had breakfast and packed up quick. With no showers available I was only able to cover basic ministrations, so I was on the road in good time. I kept an eye out for the Sea Eagles but couldn’t see any; maybe they were up having a lie in.

Morning view from tent in Killiechronan

Packed up and ready for another day

Leaving Killiechronan about 09.15, there followed a pleasant ride around the coastline, with hardly anyone else about. I passed quite few small herds of cows with calves, and one group of bulls, all not fenced in which made me slightly worried. At one point I approached a rather large bull walking ponderously down the road to join its mates a bit further on. I decided not to antagonise it, and let it finish its short road journey before passing by; it stopped to give me the once over but decided I wasn’t very interesting. There were also a lot of sheep about, being their usual stupid selves and either sitting in the road blocking the way until I got really close, then bolting in a random direction which might be in front of my front wheel, or running off in a group in front of me for several hundred feet down the road before realising I wasn’t going to stop following them and finally turning off into the field. I’ve unintentionally herded quite a few groups of sheep about on my bike; could do with that lance Nigel suggested to assist with the process and maybe score some roast lamb dinner. I did see one ewe wearing its lamb as a scarf, which was pretty cute. They both looked pretty comfortable with the arrangement, unfortunately I didn’t have my camera handy as could have been worth a few quid as a photo.

Riding around Loch na Keal from Killiechronan

Bulls, luckily they were all being very civilised

Coastal road getting interesting

I was in a good mood as I pedalled along, greeting one cyclist going the other way exuberantly; he looked a little tired and damp which should really have rung alarm bells. I passed the small island of Eorsa, which sounds like another Norse name, singing some old Monty Python songs I’d had stuck in my head all morning.

Shortly after passing Eorsa I turned inland, still on the B8035, up the pass between Ben More and Bein na Steine, whereupon things turned nasty. The wind got stronger and it started to rain, making it tough going on the ascent, and having to use a very low gear. I passed through some forest, and a signpost for guided Eagle tours, but it really wasn’t the weather for it.

Riding up the pass, foul weather

Drenching clouds abound

I eventually crested the pass and coasted down through forest to Loch Scridain, the scenery reminding me of the film Dog Soldiers. I didn’t see any werewolves but there were creatures in those woods…deer most likely…probably. It was a bit of a ‘bone’ day in any case.

The next bit of the ride wasn’t too pleasant either, with the rain continuing, and the wind seeming to change direction to always be in my face. I was coming to the conclusion I needed to make a sacrifice to Odin or Thor, or more likely Loki, to try and appease them, either that or the wind just flows down off the hills so will often be in your face, and not following the prevailing wind direction.

Taking temporary shelter near Aird of Kinloch

There followed a gruelling passage through Glen More, passing another cycle tourer going the other way, equipped with the same Ortlieb panniers which were proving their worth in this weather. He looked equally bredraggled and we gave each other encouraging waves as we pedalled on. There was a bit too much traffic on this road (A849), especially in the rain, with spray being kicked up by cars, camper vans, coaches and lorries in abundance. The Tourist Information had claimed Mull’s roads were mostly quiet and traffic free, which isn’t always the case apparently. Most of it was probably on its way down to Fionport to get the ferry overly to Iona, to visit amongst other things the remains of the monastery, sacked by Vikings on numerous occasions – they’ve got a bit of a rep for that kind of thing. I’d opted not to do that bit of Mull, especially given the weather, as it was a long way out of my way, a dead end, and not as interesting as the rest of Mull. I’d have to come back and do the various islands around Mull another time.

Enduring Glen More

Post a hilly and wet passage through the glen, and feeling a little bit pissed off due to water infiltrating my nether regions, I passed the turning to Lochbuie with a friend’s (Mac) family motto going round my head; Conquer or Die. His clan seat is Lochbuie and the phrase seemed apt for the day. I pedalled on deciding against a 16 mile detour in this particular instance, to Lochdon and Duart Bay, passing Duart Castle, the site of another friend’s ancestral clan seat; Ron – do you ever break out the family tartan and do bit of a highland fling incidentally?

I arrived in Craignure as the ferry to Oban was loading, and was half tempted to hop on board, it being my destination in a couple of days time. It would however have meant missing a large chunk of coast out which I wasn’t up for sacrificing. Instead I stopped at a local cafe and had their soup and a sandwich meal deal, and a decaf coffee to warm up. The leek and potato soup plus BLT tasted pretty darned good after the morning’s endeavours. I noticed I was dripping everywhere, puddles of water collecting around me, so I retreated to the bathroom to ring a few items of clothing out. My sleeves were sodden despite wearing a waterproof, the wind having driven the rain in. I must have looked a bit if a state.

Despite my appearance, or perhaps it was because the only seats left in the cafe were at my table, I was joined by a couple on holiday in Mull, staying in Tobermory. They were doing some hill walking, otter watching, and planned on visiting a few of the islands including Staffa. It was good to have a nice chat after the less than pleasant morning; she’d done a fair bit of wild camping on Mull and in Scotland, including close encounters with sheep in the night!

Craignure

Craignure – ferry leaving

Feeling re-invigorated, if still damp, I rode around to Fishnish to get the ferry back to the mainland. I bought a can of fanta and a cake from the cafe next to the slipway, whilst waiting for the ferry, attempting to have a conversation with the jolly owner, however his accent was a little to thick to follow at times – I think I laughed at the right moments. At least the rain had stopped for a bit, even if it was still windy.

Waiting for the ferry to Lochaline

I rode on to the ferry and retreated to the cabin area once bike was stashed, to get out of the wind for a bit. The ferry was really busy, packed with cars and camper vans, but they mostly stayed in their vehicles for the short crossing. It only cost me £3.50, and took about 25 minutes. I chatted to one of the ferry attendants on the crossing, who’s also a keen cyclist. He described the route to Fort William, pointing out the long ascent to begin with, over 12 miles, and the ferry I could take at Ardgar (Corran Ferry) if I wanted to cut off about 30 miles. There were a couple of options route wise, and I decided to take the one closer to the coast, both were allegedly equally attractive with nice long descents to enjoy.

Slipway to Fishnish Ferry

Fishnish Ferry incoming

Fishnish Ferry – a full load

Goodbye to Mull

Leaving the ferry behind, and in slightly improved weather, I pedalled up the long hill out of Lochaline on the A884. The road is mostly single track, passing through forest and fen, and wasn’t too busy so was a pleasant ride. I did however encounter a lot of sheep again, either on or around the road, who did their usual panic at the last moment routine. I unintentionally ended up herding a few large groups down the road to pastures new. Cars don’t don’t seem to bother them, but me on a bike is a different story, even if I give them lots of warning I’m coming.

Sheep herding again

The hilly road continued up Gleann Geal and beyond, before I turned on to the B8043 towards the coast rather than continue up to Strontian. The rain had started again, but it wasn’t hard and the wind had dropped, so it was a fun descent all the way down to Loch Linnhe. The road twists, turns and undulates, through moorland and forest, and there was very little traffic when I was going down it at some speed. In fact I think I counted about 3 cars all the way back to the main road. The scenery looked slightly eldritch in the light rain and low cloud, with water trickling down everywhere, and hanging off fern fronds and trees. I half expected to see pixies and maybe the occasional gnome ambling about.

Top of descent down to Loch Linnhe

Descent to Loch Linnhe 2

I had to keep an eye on the road surface, which was a bit ropey in places with loose gravel and potholes that could have seriously thwarted my descent had I hit them wrong. At the bottom I turned up along the coast, along the mostly flat single track road, which was still pretty bumpy and jarred my wrists somewhat.

Coast road to Inversanda

Mist on Loch Linnhe, bike doing well

Loch Linnhe again

Oh look, more sheep

At Inversanda I joined the A861, riding up to Ardgar having done about 31 miles since getting off the ferry. I knew this because of handy milestone markers along the roads which I’d been trying to keep track of and add up. It was about 17.00 and I was tempted to get the ferry over to Corran, which runs back and forth continually until around 21.00. Going round the rest of Loch Linnhe, then Loch Eil to Fort William was another 30 miles, as opposed to 10 on the other side. In the end I opted not to take the ferry deciding it would be cheating. I had a pork pie and snickers to celebrate my willpower holding out.

Corran Ferry

Corran Ferry 2

On slightly tired legs I pressed on, up past Conaglen House, along roads lined with Rhododendron, which made the biologist in me concerned about soil acidity and other plant species being snuffed out, but they looked nice.

Road past Conaglen House

Long road around the Lochs

The road around the lochs is mostly flat, so I made good progress, partly motivated by not wanting to stop due to clouds of midges. I passed through several small villages, and could see Fort William on the other side of Loch Linnhe.

Looking across to Fort William, so close and yet so far

Looking across to Fort William 2

Eventually I made it around to the A830, and powered by Haribos rode on to Fort William arriving at about 20.30, feeling pretty hungry. I made the mistake of taking a cycle path for the last bit, thinking that would be nice, however I had to manoeuvre through several swing gates, and over a railway crossing with yet more gates, which left me cursing somewhat. Tricky with a heavy bike, at the end of a long day, and probably took twice as long as the road route. Must remember just to stick to the road in future! I came out at Neptune’s staircase, a series of lochs up to the Caledonian canal which I thought I’d visit tomorrow.

Beginning of Neptune’s Staircase

Before heading to the campsite I nipped into town and bought some fish and chips, which didn’t last long. It felt a bit odd being in a big town again, with lots of shops and ‘normal’ people about, including multitudes of tourists, locals out for a drink, and the odd big issue salesperson looking hopeful. I noticed a Cotswolds outlet which I’d visit tomorrow to see if I could get a replacement Power Monkey cable.

Post dinner I rode up to Glen Nevis, in the shadow of a cloud covered Ben Nevis, and pitched up at the campsite there. I met a friendly police dog and its handler on the way in, out for a stroll. The collie dog had a liking for bike tyres and stalked me for a bit before being called off. Reception was closed so it would be the ‘pay in the morning’ routine again. Good facilities at the campsite, but the midges had started to appear so after a wash I retreated pretty quickly to my tent. Damned things.

Tent up in Glen Nevis

So despite a poor start, and it raining nearly all day, it had ended up being a great ride covering 111 miles, two of which had been on the ferry from Mull. It wasn’t far down to Oban where I planned to ride to the next day, post doing a few things around Fort William – bike shops, Cotswolds, Neptune’s Staircase. My back wheel was doing well but I was constantly having to tighten or adjust the spokes, and it was only a matter of time before it suffered a critical failure, so I needed to replace it…again.

After arranging damp kit to hopefully dry a bit, including a couple of bits in my warm sleeping bag, I fell asleep pretty swifty after a 13 hour day in the office.

Edited with BlogPad Pro

Leg 40 – to Tobermory, Calgary and Killiechronan on Mull

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A shorter day miles wise, with only 35 covered.

10 June 2013

I woke up feeling a bit itchy. The midges had definitely got to the lower parts of my legs, and my hands to an extent, resulting in quite few ugly red bite marks. The Avon lady seemed to have kept them off my face and arms, although I wasn’t convinced it was really working. I need to train a team of spiders to spin webs around my campsite every night to catch the midges and Mosquitos. One had spun its web under my bike saddle and caught loads of midges for its supper, a shame I had to evict him or her.

A fine morning in Ardnamurchan

After breakfast and a quick shower I packed everything back on to my bike, and pedalled to the end of the road, just to get a bit further west. I wasn’t going to go all the way to Ardnamurchan Point, as it was a dead end, and I had a ferry to catch over to Mull.

End of the road west for the time being

I pedalled back down the hill to Kilchoan and was just in time to get the ferry, perfect, so I rode on board squeezing my bike between the cars, camper-vans and caravans; I wish more people would just get a bike, much cheaper at £5.00 for the crossing as opposed to about £20.00 for a car.

Waiting to board the ferry at Kilchoan

Leaving Kilchoan

I went up to the deck area for some of the short voyage over to Tobermory, the largest town on Mull. It was a bit of a blustery day, making it a bit chilly out on the water, but mostly sunny. Retreating inside for a bit I called my parents who were squatting in my house in Norwich, and went through my mail with them, nothing very exciting; home insurance, bills, statements and junk mail for the most part. Good to have people checking up on my house, and of course Dad was in fixing things mode so I would no doubt have some home improvements by the time I returned.

Aerial shot of my bike, lashed to its railing

Round the point to Tobermory

Arriving in Tobermory I trundled off the boat, making my way to the Mull museum, literally a few hundred yards down the road on the harbour front. It is free to look around, although they are grateful for donations, and a superb place to start a trip around Mull. I think it took about 30 minutes to look round all the exhibits, being only a small museum, but could have been longer as it was quite absorbing.

I learned about quite a few things, including:

– Mull and Tobermory during the Second World War, when many Navy crews were trained in the area for escort duty under the watchful eye of the ‘Terror of Tobermory’, Commodore Stephenson, from on board HMS Western Isles. He had a quite a reputation due to unconventional training methods and a fierce temperament, hence his nickname, and was responsible for the training of 1,132 ships and their crews for escort duty in 4 years, up to the end of the war. I reckon that’s a pretty remarkable achievement, which no doubt contributed massively to the war effort and keeping convoys safe versus the U-boat threat.

The Terror of Tobermory

– A Spanish ship that sunk in the bay, from the Armada. It was one of the many that were forced up around the coast of Scotland post the Armada break up. It put into Tobermory for repairs, after a deal was struck with the local clan chief. In return for supplies and repair work, the ship’s captain loaned the use of some of the many soldiers he had on board, to help the chief settle a few local disputes/feuds. Pretty cunning. Unfortunately the ship later blew up in the harbour, and sank. Rumours have persisted of large amounts of gold on the ship, and salvage efforts have been raking place ever since. No bullion found to date. Quite a few Armada ships did eventually make it back to Spain, but nothing like the number that set off.

– The history of Mull, from the Stone Age to the Bronze and Iron Age, about the Celts, and Christianity arriving via St. Columba, and the Iona monastery. The Norse turned up in their longships, being Vikings, and killed a lot of monks, Christians and Celts during their successive raids over the years, so much so that the Iona monastery was eventually abandoned. The Norse later came back and settled on some parts of Mull, but not to the same extent as other islands on the west coast.

– A series of accounts from notable individuals visiting Mull, in the 18th and 19th centuries, which were also interesting to read, with a few items including a travelling chest used for storing specimens and kit. One account described the average Mull man as surely one of the most heavily armed in Europe, with shield, dirk, pistol and broadsword, and possibly other weapons secreted about their person. They were also apparently very brawny in their kilts and berets, with an ammunition pouch helping to conceal their privates. The women were equally tough, wearing tartan again, which often wrapped around into a veil and headscarf.

Tobermory – brightly painted houses

After my history lesson I cycled along the harbour-front to the other side, before having an early lunch at one of the pubs; very nice to sit down for an hour or so, and eat a huge burger that would keep me going or a bit. I also nipped into the tourist information office to check on my planned route, possible things to see, and campsites.

Riding back along the harbour front I stopped to look around a visiting Himalayan bazaar, a bit bizarre, and bought some incense which I thought might help versus the midges, or at least would smell nice. The bazaar had lots of nice Himalayan style knitted clothes, including arm warmers and hats that I fancied the look of, but really isn’t have room for. Got me thinking about a tour down to Tibet though, and to Everest; another one to add to the list!

Before pedalling to Calgary I stopped and bought some supplies, I’d been craving apples. Suitably restocked with a few things I rode up the steep hill out of Tobermory, and on to the B8073.

My trusty steed in Tobermory

Tobermory – yachts in the harbour

Tobermory – view from on high

The road over to the village of Dervaig was in slightly poor condition, and fairly hilly, so it was tough going at times and i was a bit worried about my rear wheel again. Some nice scenery though, and not many sheep.

Road to Dervaig

Road to Dervaig 2

I stopped for a break in Dervaig, which claims to be he prettiest village on Mull, and had a drink at the Bellachroy Inn. The Inn is the oldest on the Island, dating from 1608. I had a chat with a couple of builders on a break, interested in my bike, who advised that the road around to Calgary was mostly flat, and that it was only about 4 miles to the bay. They were on a break for a while, leading me to think not much happens fast on Mull.

Pressing on to Calgary I soon realised the road wasn’t really flat at all. I guess if you’re driving you don’t notice the hills as much. Still it had less steep bits than the pervious section, and wound through some lovely countryside. Lots of bluebells were out, along with ferns and bracken growing everywhere, and various flowers and flowering trees scenting the air.

Calgary, which gave its name to the Canadian city, is gorgeous beach surrounded by hills, with an area of machair, and wide expanse of pale sand. With the sunshine the sea was a deep blue colour. I went for a walk down to the beach, and across a bit of the machair which is Gaelic for a specific type of grassland/meadow that grows on sandy soil in Scotland, next to the sea. It’s under threat from coastal erosion, excessive amounts of people walking on it, and grazing by sheep and rabbits, so I was a bit bemused to see sheep actually on it. Efforts were being made to conserve it, as it’s unique habitat for some flora and fauna.

Calgary Bay and machair

There a designated wild camping area in Calgary, next to a toilet block. I was tempted to stop for the day but I really hadn’t done many miles, and didn’t want to leave myself with too much to do tomorrow, so I pedalled on. Calgary would be a great place to camp out with a few friends, however I get the feeling it’s a very popular spot, the wild camping area having had quite a few folks on it already.

Calgary wild camping area

Calgary beach, pretty gorgeous and unspoilt

I regretted the decision to press on shortly afterwards, running into a fierce headwind and big hills – especially the one just prior to Fanmore. The hill and headwind combi was a bit of a leg burner, however I made it up, finding a large stone cairn at the top; I added a stone to it in case it was good luck to do so.

Riding round northern Mull

The Cairn

The wind lessened a bit as I cycled on towards Killiechronan, still on the B8073 – there aren’t really that many roads to choose from on Mull. Passed through some nice scenery, with the Isle of Ulva just off the coast, across Loch Tuath. You can get a ferry across to Ulva at one point, it’s really not a long crossing – reckon you could swim it pretty easily.

Road to Killiechronan

Lots of bluebells

Ulva off the coast

View to Southern Mull

I arrived at the campsite in Killiechronan, which didn’t consist of a lot (campsite or place), and pitched up, the owner coming around a bit later on his quad bike to collect the £4.00 fee, so nice and cheap. I chatted to a few of the other people staying there – the site was pretty full with kayakers, camper vans, and a few other cycle tourers. Unsurprising given the good location right on the coastline, even if there are no showers, and it’s a bit of a walk up the road to the toilet block.

View across bay from Killiechronan

One bird watching couple lent me their binoculars briefly, to look at the Sea Eagle sitting in a tree across the bay, a truly immense bird of prey. There were a couple of them apparently, although I only saw one, which later soared and swooped across the bay, presumably looking for fish or an easy meal courtesy of the nesting birds in the area, of which there were lots; saw oystercatchers, gulls, sandpipers, amongst others. Mull has the biggest population of Sea Eagles in the UK, them all congregating on the island, and it was great to see one.

I fell asleep in my tent post dinner it was so relaxing, with the breeze keeping the midges away, and the incense I’d bought earlier wafting about. Getting up I had a brief chat with a French cycle tourer going the other way, who’d rigged up an ingenious washing line from his tent to his bike. He had a kick stand for his bike though, which I really need to invest in.

Feeling pretty tired, and with most people retreating inside their various tents or camper vans due to breeze dropping and midge threat increasing, I decided to have an early night too, rather than do some bike maintenance which could wait until the morning. It was nice just lying in my tent chilling out, doing a bit of planning and reading. Very quiet too. I ruled out visiting any of the other islands around Mull, as I did’t really have the time. It would be nice to come back and go to Staffa to see Fingal’s Cave with its unique geology and mystical atmosphere, as well as to go to Iona and visit the sacked monastery – Vikings again. There are various boat trips you can go on to the outlying islands, as well as to see seals, more bird life, and porpoises and whales if you’relucky.

So only a short day today, covering 35 miles. I’d need to improve upon that tomorrow, and hoped the weather would be good for it. Went to bed post saying hello to a couple of friendly campsite dogs doing the rounds.

Edited with BlogPad Pro

Leg 39 – to Kilchoan

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A decision day route wise. A paltry but challenging 54 miles covered in the end.

09 June 2013

I woke up slightly late at the Silver Sands campsite, but to a glorious day with some great views across the bay. I had breakfast watching the oystercatchers and gulls dive about, as well as a few early bird kayakers getting ready and setting off for a days paddling.

Morning at Silver Sands campsite

Silver Sands – great weather

Silver Sands – kayakers setting off for the day

I had a shower and a chat with the campsite owner, not at the same time, before packing up and loading everything on to my bike. I had to tighten up a loose spoke but the wheel looked okay still, which was a relief. I watched the family camping next door set off in their kayaks for the day. As far as I could ascertain the man was Scottish, the woman French, and their three children kept mixing English and French, with a variety of accents. It looked like it was going to be a great day out on the water, with very little wind. The campsite was thronged with kayaks so obviously a very popular bit of coast for it.

Undecided on my route I rode down to Arisaig and stopped off at the hotel. It wasn’t open yet but I could use their wifi network to check out potential routes, deciding in the end to cycle to Kilchoan and get the ferry over to Tobermorry either later on or tomorrow morning depending on when I arrived. Fort William would have to wait for another day, which meant I would miss the mountain bike championships, but it didn’t make sense to go there first and then double back. I opted to ride away from possible glory at the championships, conceding victory to someone on a full suspension bike; I’m not sure my dodgy rear wheel and front right pannier fix would have survived anyway.

I left Arisaig and pedalled down the A830 in the sunshine, passing a man practicing his bagpipes outside his house on a Sunday morning. I imagine he’s popular with the neighbours – I waved but he had his hands full and just nodded, raising a eyebrow in greeting.

The railway accompanied me for a bit, through some great scenery, complete with mountains, sandy bays with clear blue seas, and not much in the way of traffic. I had to climb up a few hills but thankfully the road mostly weaves through the mountains, which was fortunate given the hot day.

A830 going East

I passed Prince Charlie’s Cairn, where he boarded a French Ship, leaving Britain forever after the Jacobite defeat at Culloden. It was also the site of a naval engagement between two French privateers and English ships shortly after his departure. The French were delivering arms and gold to Clan MacDonald, who ferried it ashore under fire from the British ships earning admiration from the French commander. The gold and arms were distributed amongst the clans, much to the chagrin of the Macdonalds, however it’s rumoured ‘there is still gold buried in those hills’. Back to the naval battle – the English ships had to retreat after casualties were suffered on both sides, and the French made their escape.

Near Prince Charlie’s Cairn – looking towards Lochailort

Near Prince Charlie’s Cairn

Post the Ardnish peninsula and Lochailort, I turned on to the A861 down to Glenuig, up and down some pretty tricky hills that got the legs going. As was becoming a constant for the west coast of Scotland the scenery was its usual good self.

Loch Ailort

I stopped for lunch at the Glenuig Inn, situated in a bay where the waters looked very inviting for a swim, however I still had around 30 miles to go and didn’t fancy being slightly damp and salty for that long, so I abstained. Really lovely area, with Rhododendrons flowering everywhere – I know they’re slightly evil and turn the soil acid but they look nice. Great lunch at the Inn, consisting of Kofta Kebabs and couscous, and a pint of something localish. The pub dog also said hello frequently – I think he was only interested in my kebabs though, they were very good. Glenuig would be a great place to stay for a few days, with plenty of walks, and kayaking available.

Glenuig Inn

Post Glenuig I pedalled up a long climb south, over the top and down to Loch Moidart. I met a group of day-tripper cyclists at the top, all sweating profusely after their long climb which would become my glorious descent. It had turned very hot all of a sudden so I topped up on the sun cream, not wanting to get singed again.

The descent to Loch Moidart

I rode alongside the loch and past the seven men of Moidart, trees once planted to commemorate seven of Bonnie Prince Charlie’s faithful companions. The trees had to be replanted after they were blown down in 1988, and I wasn’t sure which ones they were, there being quite a lot of woodland about. There are quite a few references and historical information boards referencing the Jacobite uprising in the area, and to Clan MacDonald. I passed several local businesses bearing the MacDonald name.

The day grew hotter as I continued on along the A861, with no wind for a change and some large hills to contend with, meaning my water consumption soared. I wasn’t complaining about the nice weather though, long may it continue. Riding through some small villages, and around a bit of Loch Shiel, I made it over to Loch Sunart, turning right at Salen on to the the B8007.

Passing over a mountain river

Standing on the old bridge looking at the new bridge

Lovely beech woodland

The ride alongside Loch Sunart to Kilchoan was through some fantastic scenery again, with lots of small bays, some of which had yachts moored up in them, or people kayaking and diving. It’s a pretty remote area so it wasn’t at all busy, with only mild traffic on the road going to or from Kilchoan and the ferry over to Mull. The road isn’t however very flat, in fact there aren’t really any flat bits to speak of as it constantly undulates with the occasional longer climb or descent. The road surface is also pretty rough in places so it turned into quite a hard ride, and I’d definitely need to check my spokes again later. It’s really hard to get into a rhythm without any consistency, so I started to tire fast.

Alongside Loch Sunart

Yacht moored up

I pedalled up to and through Glenborrodale, passing the castle and sizeable estate, as well as the lovely gardens.

Glenborrodale Castle

Tree in flower

It looked like a private estate though, with lots of no trespassing signs, or trespasses enter at their own risk notices, which I took to mean you might encounter unfriendly livestock, or get shot at by an enthusiastic Laird.

Shortly after Glenborrodale I happened upon the Nadurra nature visitors centre, which had a cafe, the first I’d passed in miles and completely unexpected, so was a nice surprise. Feeling rather hot I was more than glad of a break, and bought an ice cream and cold drink to cool off with. A father and son on sleek road bikes had the same idea – the were complaining about the hills, I had little sympathy given comparative bike weights. The centre has various wildlife exhibits, including information on Scottish wild cats and all the bird life in the area – eagles could be seen apparently. I had a peer through the telescope they had set up but only spotted some sheep regarding me with suspicion, as well as a few geese, swallows darting about, and the odd raven.

Pressing on there followed a big climb around the impressive Ben Hiant, an extinct volcano covered in grassland and grazing sheep, who bleated in alarm at my passing.

Bay just before Ben Hiant

Ben Hiant panorama

Riding up Ben Hiant and past Loch Mudle was pretty tough going on drained legs, and on the single track road I had a couple of close encounters with ferry traffic. Despite keeping an eye out I didn’t spot any eagles, which according to a sign in the Nadurra centre sometimes fly around the loch.

Loch Mudle

Other side of Ben Hiant

As a reward for my efforts there followed a lovely long descent into Kilchoan, down a winding road that was a lot of fun. I was able to throw caution to the wind a bit as I could see a long way into the distance, and there wasn’t any traffic on the road. I got up to a fair speed by the time I reached the bottom and had to start pedalling again, entering Kilchoan and stopping at the hotel for a pint. I watched a bit of the Grand Prix and chatted to the barman for a bit before continuing on.

It was too late to get the ferry over to Tobermory and Mull, which I wasn’t too upset about having knackered legs, so I rode to the Ardnamurchan campsite for the night. I hadn’t realised that Ardnamurchan Point is the western most point on the coast of Britain, it not being Land’s End as I once thought. I’d now done the Eastern, Northern, and Westernmost points. It couldn’t be more different to Lowestoft at Ardnamurchan, although I didn’t go all the way to the point (dead-end).

Campsite view back towards Kilchoan ferry pier

Ardnamurchan campsite panorama

View across to Mull

The campsite is fairly rudimentary, but fine, and with wifi and a little shed area I could sit in to escape the midges, of which there were a plentiful supply. I had to treat my tent flaps like an air lock to try and keep them out. They were voracious in their appetites and even the Avon Lady wasn’t keeping them at bay.

Ardnamurchan campsite

Braving the midges I cooked up some couscous, a double portion, before retreating inside like everyone else on the site. The insect life in Scotland does at times impair a sociable atmosphere! Post a bit of journal writing and planning for tomorrow I hit the sack, looking forward to Mull, Tobermorry and Calgary Beach. I was wondering about visiting Staffa and Fingal’s Cave, however that would probably take a whole day out so I’d see when I got around to that area.

A good day, but I went to bed slightly aching, and itching.

Ardnamurchan campsite beach

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Leg 38 – to Arisaig

6 Replies

I’m writing this whilst wild camping down near Campbeltown, with the rain lashing down and wind gusting outside my warm and cosy tent. Currently wondering if any of the clothes I wore today will be dry by the morning, but not to worry, I have ginger nuts. Now back to nearly a week ago on Skye.

08 June 2013

I woke up early (for me) at 06.30, with an urge on get back on the road after a day’s rest. I had breakfast and showered before packing up quick. The weather looked good in Uig, with mostly clear skies, sunshine, and very little wind.

Packing up – quick wheel check

Hitting the road about 08.30, I was off to a good start, having a long leg ahead of me. I cycled out past the Bakur Bar, bidding it a fond farewell, and past lines of traffic queuing for the morning ferry. Lots of people with bikes or kayaks attached to their vehicles but no cycle tourers I could see.

Beautiful day in Uig

Bollards again – and clouds, making me wonder what it was like on the other side of the island

I rode North out of Uig, up the hill on the A855 which would take me around the top of Skye and back down to Portree.

Looking back down towards Uig

Unfortunately as soon as I got over the top the clouds started to draw in from the North, along with a moderate and chill wind. I decided to speed up and try and get this section done quickly, hoping the weather would improve again down in Portree, with the clouds breaking up against the mountains. I rode through some fairly wet and at times foggy landscape around to Staffin, passing several small villages and small islands just off the coast, as well as the usual multitude of sheep.

Road around the North of Skye

Staffin Bay

Staffin wasn’t very exciting, especially given the weather. It has a store, cafe and candle shop, but I didn’t need any artfully created scented wax illuminations at the time, so carried on. From Staffin I pedalled on down the coast, up and down a couple of big hills, to the Old Man of Storr, where the sun was just starting to burn off some of the cloud and fog, revealing the spectacular Storr mountain, and lochs on the other side of the road.

Storr Mountain and Old Man of Storr

Still clouds hanging over the lochs

I stopped for a double banana break by the roadside, feeling a bit drained post the cold ride around the top if the island, before continuing on to Portree. There were quite a few motorbike tourers out on the road again, making easy work of the hills, along with the obligatory camper vans from all around Europe.

Portree Bay

The sun came out properly in Portree, and remained out for the rest of the day. I stopped to buy a few supplies from the Co-op, then ate lunch in the town square, munching my way through most of a baguette, with cheese, ham, tomatoes, an apple, and a couple of cakes from the local bakery for good measure. There were lots of tourists and associated coaches in Portree again, and I heard then saw at least one bagpipe busker taking advantage of the holiday season influx.

Looking own on Portree old town

I left Portree passing the finish of the half marathon being run at the same time. It must be a challenging course around the town, and I passed a few very tired looking individuals. I pedalled down the same road I’d cycled up two days previously, over some fairly big hills, and with Raasay and Scalpay just off the coast.

The road to Sligachan

I passed dozens of cyclists going the other way over the next couple of hours, in small groups, ranging from those looking fairly professional to those who were huffing and puffing along slightly. There must have been some kind of charity ride on. It was nice to wave and shout hello, and they all waved back or shouted greetings, so was quite fun.

Lobster sun bathing in Sligachan – Cuillin Hills in background

Cuillin Hills again

Loch Ainot

I rode on and just after Broadford turned right, on to the A851 that would take me to Armadale. It was a lovely ride in the sunshine, through some great scenery alongside the Sound of Sleat. The road was comparatively flat, with just a few leg testers in the final miles before Armadale. In places there was lots of wild garlic out long side the roadside, giving the air a pleasant scent, with bluebells and plenty of bird life to keep me occupied. At times sparrows and tits would dart out in front of my bike, then fly off down the road in front of me before careering off into the bushes.

Down to the Sound of Sleat

Sound of Sleat coastline

View across to Armadale

Passing Armadale Castle, which I couldn’t see from the road, I reached Armadale about 16.00 having covered in the region of 75 miles. I’d originally planned to camp there, but was still feeling pretty fresh, and the ferry across to Mallaig was still running. I had a quick look around the Eco Woodland campsite anyway, which turned out to be a bit different, with several curiosities to look around and set in a fantastic location. There were herb and vegetable beds everywhere, all labelled with what they could be used for, from natural anti-midge concoctions, to treatments for chafing, and recipes for various dishes. The whole set up had the feeling of a hippy commune, with water butts, ramshackle but well kept looking wooden buildings, and compost loos; there just didn’t seem to be anyone about. I had a quick walk around the woodland camping area anyway.

View to Seal Bay from woodland campsite

The one drawback of the camping area was that come dusk it would be absolutely infested by hordes of midges, given all the trees and lush vegetation. Given I was still feeling pretty good, and it wasn’t late, I decided to avoid the midges and get the ferry over to Mallaig, which at £4.00 was a bargain – bikes go free. I wanted to get the ferry, rather than go back over the Skye Bridge, as it avoided a long ride inland to get around to the coast again, and actually meant I’d see more of the coast.

Armadale harbour

Whilst waiting for the ferry my bike became the subject of interest for a group of French tourists travelling by coach. On this trip it seems to often be the French who have wanted to know how far I’ve cycled and about my bike; they must be in to their cycling in France. I chatted to a few of them for a while, practicing my rusty French again. They were amazed at how heavy my bike was, with various expressions of surprise uttered as they tried to lift it. After posing for a few photos the ferry arrived, and they had to get back on their coach, saving me from trying to explain anything further to them.

I boarded the ferry, cycling down the gangplank and tying my bike to a designated railing, which I was still finding pretty exciting. It’s only a 30 minute voyage over to Mallaig, but that was enough time to eat the rest of my baguette with some cheese, whilst admiring the view.

Looking back to Armadale

Ferry to Mallaig – sun still shining

Across to Mallaig we go

Arriving in Mallaig

Upon arrival in Mallaig we disembarked in a mostly orderly fashion, aside from a few groups of foreign tourists who weren’t sure if they were supposed to walk off the boat or get back on their coach there and then, resulting in a minor amount of chaos on the vehicle deck. Whilst this was going on I took my opportunity and quickly cycled off, jumping ahead of the traffic. Mallaig looked like a nice place, the end of the A830 going north, with several shops, fish and chips and hotels, as well as a train station.

I took the road signposted to Fort William and Arisaig, hoping to find a campsite within the next 10 or so miles, or at least a good spot to wild camp. I took a brief detour through Morar, looking across to Loch Morar, before continuing down the coast road towards Arisaig through some stunning scenery.

Road to Arisaig 1

Road to Arisaig 2

Road to Arisaig 3

Along the flatter coastal stretch I passed three potential campsites, two of which were sporting site full signs, the first time I’d encountered such a problem on this tour. This must be a popular bit of coastline, especially for kayakers, and with the good weather people had flocked out to spend their weekend here.

Coastline down to Arisaig

I arrived in Arisaig and bumped into a fellow tourer, doing Land’s End to John o’ Groats the long way round on a small wheeled but fully loaded bike. We chatted for a bit about our experiences to date, and he confirmed there were no campsites in the immediate area going south. He gave me a few tips on my route, and what to see on Mull if I went that way, and I vice versa on Skye, although he’d been in the area before having holidayed on Eigg with his family in the past – no cars on Eigg, just bikes. It was really pleasant sitting in the sunshine in Arisaig, with the Isles of Eigg and Rum just off the coast.

Post a pint in the village hotel, and buying a couple of dinner bits from the Spar, I cycled back to the Silver Sands campsite I’d passed earlier. It was the only one without a site full sign, and was in a lovely location. I stopped at the owner’s house on my way in and had a brief shouted conversation from where he was up in the garden, ascertaining it was fine to go and pitch my tent and we’d settle up in the morning. I found a great spot next to a mother and daughter having a weekend break, and a family of kayakers doing the same.

Camping spot at Silver Sands

Camping spot at Silver Sands 2

Post around an 85 mile ride I consumed a large dinner of more baguette, pork pie, cheese and fruit, in the peaceful setting, waiting for the sun to go down and watching oystercatchers and gulls wheel and dive over the sea. The oystercatchers seemed to be behaving a bit like starlings, flocking together at dusk and flying about in a noisy fashion before finding a spot to roost.

The only drawback to the site was the arrival of the midges, however the Avon lady seemed to keep them at bay before I retreated to my tent. The sunset was spectacular, only slightly spoiled by the arrival of some noisy, beer swilling Jordies who insisted on standing in everyone else’s view until this was pointed out to them. To give them credit they did move to one side and quietened a bit after that.

Lobster at sunset

Sunset panorama

Sunset 1

Sunset 2

Sunset 3

Sunset 4

I have far too many pictures of his sunset.

Sun just about gone

On that note I’ll finish with some words of wisdom. When fumbling around in the dark in your tent, don’t try and use a pork pie as a torch !

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Day 38 – rest day in Uig

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Total distance cycled= 0 miles 🙂

07 June 2013

With the decision having been made to have my first complete rest day of the tour, I had a lie in, managing to stay in my tent until at least 09.00, whereupon it just got too warm and I needed the loo so had to get up.

I paid up for another day’s stay, £6 being very reasonable, and set about some chores, catching up on washing and sorting out my pannier contents a bit. This all took place during pretty much constant grazing, as I consumed cheese, pitta bread, biscuits, fruit and anything else that came to hand. By 11.00 I felt a bit sleepy so had a nap for an hour, thoroughly enjoying this day off business.

Uig – nice day for a day off

Whilst chatting to a fellow camper, whose car had broken down up the hill, I spotted a large bird of prey flying overhead getting mobbed by crows. I thought it might be a buzzard, but it looked slightly too big and the wrong colour. My erstwhile companion, who it turned out was an expert on everything, reckoned it was an eagle. It might have been a juvenile Golden Eagle, as they were present in the area and it was the right colours and had the right wing shape, but it definitely wasn’t a Sea Eagle.

After extricating myself from the rather random and ongoing conversation with the world’s expert on everything, I got changed and made my way to the Bakur Bar for lunch. I pretty much stayed here for the rest of the day, it being comfortable, with good food and ale, and allowing me to catch up on my blog a bit. I had a brief excursion to the brewery, and was very tempted to buy some Red Cuillin ale, but decided the bottles really wouldn’t work in my panniers.

By evening, and post an excellent curry, I thought I’d better move a bit so I had a walk down to the end of the pier, past moored up fishing boats and a few other walkers out for a stroll. The ferry arrives and departs from the pier, so it had been very busy at certain points during the day but was quiet now.

Uig - walk to he nod of the pier, windswept look

Uig – walk to the end of the pier, windswept look

The clouds rolling in over the hills, and the stronger wind, didn’t bode particularly well for tomorrow, however the weather can change so quickly in the area I wasn’t overly concerned.

Uig pier – clouds rolling over hill again

Uig pier 2

Uig pier 3 – bollards

Feeling recharged, and given a boost by some more donations to the Big C on my charity page, I thought I’d have an earlyish night wanting to get off in good time the following day to cycle back down the length of the island to Armadale, about 75 miles. If the weather was bad I could always stop in Portree, however I was thinking about trying to get to Fort William for the Mountain Bike World Championship so wanted to get on, we’d see in the morning.

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Leg 37 – to Uig

1 Reply

This is my second attempt at writing this blog post, having somehow deleted the first draft; a rather vexing experience when I’m already behind!

Slightly slower day covering 47 miles.

06 June 2013

With my tent getting uncomfortably warm in the morning sunshine I guessed the weather was going to be good. Upon extricating myself from by sleeping bag and tent I discovered a cloudless sky, so decided against a rest day and to press on around Skye.

A few facts about Skye:

– It’s the largest of the Inner Hebrides

– It’s had people on it since the Mesolithic era

– It has some big hills called the Cuillens on it

– Norse folk lived here for a while, post there usual being a Viking antics

– Clan Macleod and Clan Donald controlled the island for a while

– There are lots of whisky distilleries

– Quite a lot of the residents speak Gaelic

– It’s very pretty, and home to lots of interesting animals and birds, including eagles and deer. Home to lots of sheep too but they’re not very interesting, and are stupid

I consumed a sizeable breakfast, showered and packed up, before bidding goodbye to Mal and the lone English motorbike tourer, setting off up the A87 towards Portree. I wanted to visit the bike shop there, the only one within a considerable distance, the next closest being in Fort William.

Beautiful day on Skye

From Breakish I rode up to and through Dunan and Luib, with the Isles of Scalpay and Raasay just off the coast. With the isles to my right and mountains on my left, some still with snow on, the scenery was pretty fantastic.

Skye looking good, with Raasay off the coast

The mild northerly wind made a few of the hills tough going around Luib and Sligachan, but I couldn’t complain about the weather. The Cuillins looked pretty impressive, dominating the centre of the island; I was glad the road mostly went around their edges.

One of the Cuillins

View of Cuillins from Sligachan

I passed Skye’s only golf course, but was more interested in the Highland Cattle posing for photographs next to the road at one point. Loads of tourists had pulled over to take photos, so I joined them briefly. Whoever placed the cattle there could have made a pretty penny, and I was half expecting them to break into a routine, to be proceeded with a man coming round with a hat.

Posing Highland Cattle

This one reminded me of Ludo from Labyrinth

Post Sligachan I entered Glen Varrigall, and pedalled along the slightly undulating road, zoning out a bit thinking about movies including Black Hawk Down, V for Vendetta, and prompted by the Ludo-like cattle Labyrinth. I was interrupted from my musings my the roar of two Tornados flying over, practising some low level flying, which looked like fun as long as they didn’t hit any of the mountains. I guess they don’t have to contend with sheep lying in the road which must be a bonus.

Road to Portree – through Glen Varragill

The A87 isn’t that pleasant a road to cycle down, despite the scenery, due to the large amounts of traffic a lot of which is heavy. You’re somewhat limited on road choice though, so I rode on, passing a Sea Eagle centre on the outskirts of Portree, as well as a meadow covered in Bluebells which looked quite striking.

Bluebell meadow

The Sea Eagle centre may well be worth a visit, however I was keen to get to the bike shop, and would far rather see eagles in the wild; not that they had any in the centre as far as I’m aware. I reached Portree after about 2.5 hours cycling, covering 27 miles. I thought this was alright considering the hills and stops for photos.

Entrance to Portree Bay

After a bit of cycling about I found the bike shop, hidden down some stairs, however luckily there’s another way in from the coastal side which doesn’t mean you have to lift your bike up and down awkward steps. Island Cycles took a look at my back wheel, and agreed it wasn’t ideal for the bike and load I was carrying. Given I’d paid quite a bit for it, not that I had much choice given I’d been on Orkney at the time, I was determined to get some more miles out if the damned thing. Stuart managed to straighten the S buckle out of the wheel, giving it a temporary reprieve, however I’d need to keep an eye on it still. He also found a new grub screw for my rear brake pad, which would stop it slipping out if I rolled backwards with the brake on, win! So big thank you to Island Cycles.

Post the bike shop I had a quick look around Portree, and grabbed some lunch at the Granary Cafe in the town square. I must have looked a bit of a state with my oily and battered shins, grimy hands (which I proceeded to wash thorougly), plus slightly unkempt appearance, however I managed to get a seat for a bit and watched the multitude of tourists wandering about. From what I could hear there were people from France, Germany, Holland, maybe Russia, Japan and China, with regular coaches arriving to deposit more, or ferry folks away.

Portree High Street

Lunch consisted of a nice chicken and bacon salad, however it was a little on the small side for a cycle tourer, with the advertised crusty bread consisting of an artfully sliced small piece of soft bread, nice but not filling. This got me thinking about opening a cycling themed bar/cafe again, with appropriately sized portions available, however it might be a bit niche. I had an emergency pork pie and snickers bar to provide additional sustenance before pedalling on.

The A87 continued up to Uig, 15 or so miles away. Despite the headwind it was an easier ride than the morning’s, with gentler hills, and I got my head down pedalling through Borve, and latterly Earlish, making Uig by 16.20. The 15 miles had taken about and hour and fifteen minutes, which again I was pleased with, legs must be getting stronger.

Looking down on Uig harbour

Uig

Uig panorama

The campsite is right down by the ferry port, and suited me just fine being fairly quiet, and with a picnic table right next to my pitch – really nice to be able to sit down somewhere other than the floor sometimes. The Bakur Bar is only 200 yards down the road, and it was altogether a nice spot in the sunshine, so I started thinking about spending an extra day there. I needed a day off, having not had a totally cycle free day since setting off over a month ago. It would be good to rest and refuel, as well as catch up on my blog which was starting to fall behind (it’s still several days behind).

I had a chat with Martin the campsite owner, passing on greetings from Island Cycles whom they knew. Unaccustomed to finishing this early I set up, grabbed a shower, and got changed into ‘civvies’. It felt a bit odd wearing my other shoes again, but I was glad to justify having lugged them all this way. I normally just wear my Shimano cycling shoes, which are fine for walking around in too, the cleat being inset, but my trainers are more comfy.

Uig campsite – clouds rolling in over hills

Dressed and equipped with iPad, iPhone, journal and chargers, I set off for the Bakur Bar, where I spent the rest of the day catching up on emails, eating, my blog, chatting to the bar staff, and enjoying a few pints from the Skye Brewery just across the road – not many food miles on this ale, and very tasty. The bar serves good food, in decent portion sizes, has great views, and has free wifi, perfect.

Bakur Bar view 1

Bakur Bar view 2

Bakur Bar view 3

I had buy some more space on the iCloud to upload my photos, didn’t want to lose any accidentally, and it’s quite cheap. Ended the day thinking this would definitely do for a day off, and slept very well.

Leg 36 – to Skye via Bealach-Na-Ba

4 Replies

Time to take on the highest pass in Britain, going to be a tough ride. Here’s he route showing the 2000 foot ascent – http://connect.garmin.com/course/3799903

05 June 2013

Post a late night trying not altogether successfully to catch up on my blog, I had a lie in until 08.30 – felt pretty decadent. I still wasn’t sure if I was going to have a rest day or not, but post a breakfast of two baguette batons, ham, cheese, tomatoes and a banana I felt raring to go, so I packed up my stuff and prepared to tackle to tackle Bealach-Na-Ba, which translates to ‘Pass of the Cattle’, or ‘Cow Pass’, over Beinn Bhan. I had a decaf coffee at the restaurant first, just to warm up, and spent a while chilling out in the sunshine which felt wonderful. It really smelt like summer had arrived, with the birds engaged in large amounts of vocal activity, and bees buzzing about. Unfortunately the pollen count was also on the up so I broke out the hay fever tablets for the first time.

I was about to leave when Ewan and Ian appeared (sorry if i’ve spelt your names wrong guys), who I’d met briefly the night before. About my age, probably younger, they’re both keen cyclists, and Ewan was looking to tackle the Pass today too. Ian unfortunately couldn’t due to having broken his hand mountain biking recently. We agreed that most injuries of a sporting nature usually happen when you’re doing something slightly stupid! He did offer to carry my panniers over for me however I declined, figuring that would be tantamount to cheating.

My fully laden Ridgeback was going to be a lot slower than Ewan’s much lighter Condor road bike, so I set off whilst he got ready, and agreed to meet up en-route or at the top, depending on how things went.

I’ll have to give Applecross a return visit at some point as it’s a lovely spot, and the campsite with its on-site restaurant is ideal. It has good facilities, friendly staff, and I could charge stuff which would be a key consideration until I could get a replacement cable for my Power Monkey solar panel. The village has some lovely walks signposted, and a garden you can visit, as well as an Inn down in the village itself.

About to leave Applecross, great weather

Having built myself up for the climb I set off in a fairly low gear, intending to pace myself, and started easing my way up the hill. It’s another single track road, but with lots of passing places. I had to pull over a few times to let vehicles pass, but could generally just keep pedalling, and pedalling, and then some. There were quite a few posses of motorbikes tackling the pass, mostly German again by the looks of it, as well as a few classic cars – several Caterhams and one a Rolls Royce, and the odd camper van which was a bit naughty as there was a sign at the bottom of the hill saying the road wasn’t suitable for them. I also had a bit of a shock to encounter a couple of coaches, however apparently they’re local drivers who know what they’re doing, even of the road is pretty narrow and precarious in places.

Going up Bealach-Na-Ba – ominous clouds gathering

Bealach-Na-Ba – ascent looking back towards Applecross

The climb took me about an hour I think, but can’t be sure as I’d forgotten to check what time I set off which was a bit of an oversight on my part. I stopped a couple of times to take photos, which gave me time to get my breath back, but generally just kept pedalling, amazed at how well my legs were coping. Obviously the previous weeks of hill climbing around the country to date had paid off.

Bealach-Na-Ba – panorama of ascent

There are some pretty steep and long bits to the climb, with no real flat sections to speak of, just 2000 feet up to the top. There were a couple of those moments when you think you’ve reached the top, but you turn around the corner and there’s an even longer and steeper section to go, which can be a bit dispiriting. You just have to grit your teeth and push on. I found it easier if I broke it up into sections, setting myself goals of making it to that post, or the bush another 200m on, or focussing on counting pedal strokes. Not far from the top a few groups of cyclists passed me whizzing down the other way on their sleek and unladen machines, going at quite a pace – I’d have hit the brakes by now, however I had a far longer stopping distance to contend with. As they passed, over the course of a couple of minutes, I received shouts of encouragement, or promising comments about it not being far to the top now, which spurred me on somewhat. Mostly I didn’t want to be seen to be pushing my touring bike up a mountain in front of them, which gave me a boost.

I felt a great sense of achievement on reaching the top of the pass, having not had to get off and push at all. Scotland still hadn’t defeated me, unlike Yorkshire, however the gradients were steeper in Yorkshire and my legs weren’t as strong back then; I might be able to take the hill up from Boulby now. I’d made it up the highest pass in Britain, wahey!

Bealach-Na-Ba - at he top, a bit on the warm side

Bealach-Na-Ba – at the top, a bit on the warm side

Bealach-Na-Ba – view from the top 1

Bealach-Na-Ba – view from the top 2

I stopped for a rest at the top, and to admire the view which wasn’t all that bad. Even though the mountain goes up a bit further, to a communications mast, it felt like the top of the world after that climb.

The top of Beinn Bhan

I didn’t see any Golden Eagles soaring about which was a little disappointing – Dad had seen some here when he visited many years ago, and there were still eagles in the area apparently. Whilst waiting for Ewan I gave my parents a quick call to let them know I’d made it up, and that my bike and I were in one piece still; I needed to share the moment. To be honest if anything I was more worried about the descent anyway, and my brakes and wheels holding out all the way down.

Feeling a bit low on energy I ate a couple of bananas and some Haribos, whilst chatting to a couple of local cyclists from Lairg. They’d come up the other side which has some even steeper sections; ‘Oh good’, I thought, this was going to be interesting on a bike weighing over 100 pounds. They’d done the pass several times, it being her favourite route, and were in training for their forthcoming tour in the Pyrenees and France which sounded like it was going to be fantastic – 3 weeks in pretty much guaranteed good weather, and great landscape to cycle through. This got me thinking about other potential tours again, and how cool it would be to cycle around the Mediterranean. Admittedly some of the a North African coast could be challenging, but I’ll have to add it the list of possibilities – from the souks of Morocco all the way around to Spain and Portugal. It could take a while, especially if you go all the way around Italy. My list of possible adventures by bike is starting to grow now, with the New Zealand idea, as well as Cape Wrath to Sicily.

Wishing them well they zoomed off down the hill as Ewan arrived at the top, having taken around 53 minutes to make it up. He was slightly annoyed with himself for having to put a foot down due to a close encounter with a car, but wasn’t up for giving it another go today! He’ll come back and do it again with Ian, once his hand is mended, and no doubt succeed in a flawless ascent. Flawless for me was just not having to push, I didn’t mind that I’d stopped for a breather a couple of times. We chatted for a while before I put on another layer and set off down the other side of the pass, after arranging to meet up in Kishorn at a bar for a beer.

The descent was dramatic to say the least, with lots of hairpins to start off with, and a really steep section that left my brakes practically smoking. I could smell the pads getting hot, that slightly acrid smell of burning rubber, or whatever compound Aztec brake pads are made out of. In any case they held out thankfully, and didn’t fall off. A nice group of tourists took my photo for me just at the start of the descent.

Bealach-Na-Ba – about to start the descent

Bealach-Na-Ba – hairpins

Bealach-Na-Ba – impressive cliffs

Bealach-Na-Ba – looking back up

Bealach-Na-Ba – a lot of down to go yet

I plummeted down the pass, in a mostly controlled fashion, brakes screeching and trying to force myself to relax. A one point I realised my teeth were clenched tightly shut which was beginning to hurt. Mind you quite a few things were tightly clenched as I hurtled down, really not wanting to lose control of the heavy bike, but also enjoying the rush of the speed, and the adrenalin pumping winding road.

Eventually I reached the bottom section, turning slightly north into a cold headwind which helped slow me down so much I actually had to start pedalling again. I was very glad I’d put on the extra layer at the top as it was suddenly pretty cold. There was a sign at the bottom suggesting the pass may be impassable in wintry conditions; I can well believe it and wouldn’t like to tackle it in snow, ice or high wind.

I made it around to Kishorn on somewhat tired legs, with the Seafood Bar appearing just in the nick of time. Ian turned up in the car, shortly followed by Ewan on his bike, and we ordered a couple of beers and some food to celebrate making it over Bealach-Na-Ba. Their seafood platter was slightly more impressive than my smoked salmon baguette, so I ordered a steakwich to follow up, still being hungry. We chatted for a bit, them telling me about their Lands End to John o’Groats ride which sounded like a lot of fun, covering over 1000 miles in 10 days, with some interesting antics along the way. Not something I have a great urge to do, although I’m effectively doing a Jogle at the moment, just the long way.

With 30 miles left to do I had to head off, bidding goodbye it Ewan and Ian. I expect I’ll bump into them again at some point. I pedalled off to Loch Carron, dealing with another big climb. For some reason I’d got it into my head that the rest of the day was going to be flat, I was wrong. I stopped in Loch Carron to buy some chocolate, feeling a bit low on energy. The first bit of the ride around the loch was fairly flat and enjoyable, getting some quick miles it to Achintee. I passed through a tunnel and then had to deal with a steep ascent before Attadale, where there are some nice gardens apparently.

Road alongside Loch Carron

There followed another flat section, before what felt like an endless climb up to Stromferry, on tired legs. I made it to the viewpoint at the top and stopped for a rest, chatting to a group of German tourers in their motor home, rather than a motorbikes this time. More Caterhams roared past, they seemed to be everywhere today but I still hadn’t seen ay rally signs, maybe they were just lost.

Loch Carron

At Stromferry I turned off the A890 and took the minor road to Plocton. It’s a lovely road, especially in the sunshine, passing through woodland and rhododendrons, even the hills seemed mellower. I did nearly lose control at one point when rapidly descending one hill, where there were loose stones and gravel in the middle of the road which I wasn’t expected. A few tense moments as I bounced through, not daring to brake.

Road to Plocton 1

Road to Plocton 2

Road to Plocton 3

I made it to Plocton by about 18.00, and found it to be a picture postcard of a village, perfect for break. Packed with tourists I stopped to talk to French group who wanted to know how heavy my bike was and how far I’d cycled. I hadn’t come particularly far today, but they seemed impressed, and it was good to practice some French again – I’m very rusty.

Plocton – castle across the bay

Plocton panorama

Plocton front

Plocton front 2

Plocton panorama 2

I decided to stop for dinner in Plocton, at the Plocton Inn, and had grilled chicken with a pesto and chilli sauce, very nice. There isn’t a campsite in the village so had to press on pretty quickly, pedalling back out of the village and down the coast to Drumbuie, and on to Kyle of Lochalsh, a small town just before the bridge over to Skye. It felt weird with the countryside getting gradually more populated, and more villages and shops appearing. There was even a roundabout in the town – I hadn’t seen one for a while! I stopped to buy a few supplies in Kyle of Lochalsh, from the Co-op, before taking the Skye Bridge over to the Island, quite a steep bridge incidentally.

Skye Bridge 1

Skye Bridge 2

Skye Bridge 3

From the bridge I rode along the mostly flat coast road towards Broadford, stopping at a campsite next to Breakish – Ashaig Campsite, which is fairly basic (has a compost loo, as well as more modern facilities) but allows campfires, and had everything I needed. I found the warden Mel, who showed me around and suggested a pitch which would be mostly midge free. It’s only £5 a night and has a caravan you can retreat to for a sit down, and where you can recharge stuff, very handy for journal writing. I was tempted to stay another night, but the site only has that crappy Highland wifi and I needed to get to the bike shop in Portree anyway.

Ashaig Campsite

Ashaig Campsite 2

I finished the day with a beer and a few snacks, and had a quick chat to a motorbike tourer who was English rather than German! It had been a great day covering 49 miles, having met far more cyclists out on the road, including a few I’d met before. The bike had held out well too, with no more loose spokes I could find. Roll on the rest of Skye.

Edited with BlogPad Pro

Leg 35 – to Applecross

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04 June 2013

I awoke to a beautiful morning in Big Sand, with the sun chasing away the last of the overnight cloud. It looked like it was going to be a hot one so I made a mental note not to forget to put on sun cream. The cuckoo had kept going practically all night – I’d woken up at 1.30 and it was still being vocal, unless I dreamt it.

The campsite has excellent and fairly new looking facilities which I took a advantage of, having a shower post breakfast, then packing up. There’s also an onsite cafe which served breakfast, but I’d forgotten about that and already eaten by the time I passed it leaving. Before departure I had a quick walk down to the beach again, and checked on my back wheel which seemed fit for purpose.

Nice view in the morning across Loch Gairloch

From the campsite I rode back down the rode to Gairloch, stopping in the village for second breakfast, despite having only done 3 miles – I’d smelled bacon. I met the German biker couple coming out of the village shop armed with bacon rolls, as I went in to purchase the same – said goodbye and wished when well on their trip up North. I munched on a great bacon and egg roll, before going across the road to the Mountain Cafe for a decaf coffee, it was going to be a slow start to the day apparently.

The Mountain Cafe – Gairloch

The Mountain Coffee Company, using its proper name, is a great little Indie cafe with a bookshop attached to it. It has lots of interesting nooks and crannies filled with curious books, including some on cycle touring, expeditions etc, as well as lots of Bhuddas dotted around the place. I spent an hour there writing my blog and relaxing, before cycling off down the road to a nearby restaurant which the cafe owner informed me had a wifi hotspot I could use to upload a post.

Post a quick lemonade at the restaurant, I prepared to get back on my bike but realised I was missing a rear brake pad, my temporary fix having broken. I had to cycle back to the the coffee shop scanning the road in an attempt to find it, figuring it had probably fallen out when I manoeuvred my heavy bike in the car park there. I was lucky to find it there, with the help of the keen eyed cafe owner, and duly slotted it back in. It won’t fall out unless I apply the brakes whilst rolling backwards, at which point it slides out because the grub screw is missing; another thing to keep an eye on until I can get a new screw. Whilst reinserting it I did a quick spoke check again, all good.

Loch Gairloch with Gairloch on the right

Gairloch Village

I finally got on the road properly about 12.30, and cycled down the A832 through Charlestown to Loch Maree, up quite a long climb before a nice flattish ride alongside the loch.

Harbour at Charlestown

The road alongside the loch stretches on for several miles, ending in the Beinn Eighe National Park. It was a lovely ride through more forest consisting of silver birch, ash, beech, pine and a few oaks, amongst no doubt lots of other species I didn’t identify immediately. As usual the sound of cuckoos accompanied me down the road, and I even spotted one sitting on a telephone line.

Loch Maree

Loch Maree 2

I stopped for a break in the National Park and chatted to another cycle tourer who’d been on the road since mid March, after quitting his job. In his early 60’s he was touring around the UK stopping whenever he saw something interesting, sounded like a nice plan, although he’d had some pretty bad weather back in the earlier months. He was averaging about 35 miles a day rather than my 65 so got to see a lot more, but I had to get back to Norwich by the end of July so didn’t have that luxury.

Beinn Eighe National Park

Beinn Eighe National Park and Loch Maree

It was a bit strange at the national park, with a coach load of Japanese tourists hovering about, and lots of cars and minibus tours, with people taking pictures. It felt like I was heading back into civilisation and busy roads, and I wasn’t sure I liked it, despite the allure of more shops and pubs! A least the weather was getting warmer which was a good trade off.

I rode on to Kinlochewe where I turned right on to the A896 to Torridon, riding down Glen Torridon and making good time on the gently undulating road. The road runs roughly alongside the river, though some impressive mountains, and is single track for the most part so there was a bit of stop-starting in passing places as camper vans and lorries trundled towards or past me. It was quite a busy road with lots of motorbike tourers again, as well as quite a few hikers and fishermen about. Thankfully drivers were still being careful around me and my wide load; I aught to get a wide load sticker somewhere!

Ride down Glen Torridon

Ride down Glen Torridon – Beinn Eighe mountains

I met a Hungarian cycle tourer riding down to Torridon too. She had a penant flying off the back of her bike which I was slightly jealous of. She was cycling around the Highlands for a couple of weeks raising money for Cancer Research, and we had a quick chat whilst riding along – apparently Hungary is a lot flatter, and she’d covered a lot of the same bits of the North Coast I had so we compared notes before I pushed on to Torridon.

I had a quick look around Torridon and a toilet break, before taking the road to Shieldaig and nearly getting flattened by an impatient delivery truck driver at one point, my first case of dubious driving in a while.

View of Upper Loch Torridon, from Torridon

As I rode around the coast to Shieldaig the territory got progressively more hilly and leg taxing, but I’d had a fairly easy day up until then so didn’t feel too tired. Shieldaig is a lovely village and very picturesque. I stopped at the hotel bar for a drink and hopefully some food. They weren’t serving food until 18.00, so I settled for bag of crisps alongside a pint of cider, the warm day making me want something cold to drink.

Shieldaig village

The bar was being run by a New Zealand medical student on a gap year, touring around Europe. I think it’s a universal constant that wherever you go they’ll generally be a Kiwi bar person in the vicinity. I did a quick mental check to see if I had any injuries I needed advice on, but everything was working correctly, although my shins still looked a bit battered from pedal hits. He’s from Christchurch where an Uncle of Lu’s lives, so we talked about the recent earthquake there, sinking houses and cardboard cathedrals, as well as travelling. He warned me about the danger of ticks, his brother having picked one up the day before in the area – he was touring too but working elsewhere. A couple of Australians turned up shortly after I’d arrived and joined our conversation. They were touring down the West Coast by car, and flying back to Oz via Bangkok in a few days time, which sounded like an attractive proposition. I left after 45 minutes needing to push on, and as the conversation turned to sport, rugby and Aussie rules football, with associated New Zealand v’s Australia rivalry emerging. A nice stop and weird running into more antipodian people than natives in a remote Sottish village.

Shieldaig Bar

The road definitely got steeper after Shieldaig, with some challenging hills but fantastic views on the way to Ardheslaig. The Kiwi barman/medical student had told me there were sea eagles in the area so I kept an eye out, but didn’t see any. I broke into song a few times to help get up the hills, mostly Queen tracks today, which are quite vocally challenging incidentally. I’m sure the sheep appreciated my efforts although Barcelona may have left something to be desired, and probably kept the sea eagles away.

Looking back to Shieldaig

Another small inlet on the way to Ardheslaig

With slightly aching legs I rode past Kenmore, Arina and Fearnmore, on a road that wasn’t built until the 1970’s, before turning south and leaving Loch Torridon behind. The gradients got a little less steep as I rode alongside the Inner Sound between the mainland and Raasay and the Isle of Skye, although there were still plenty of ups and downs. The sun came out again giving a great view over to the Inner Hebrides, somewhere I hoped of be in a couple of days time. As I rode, and prompted by the earlier conversation in Shieldaig, I pondered what an adventure it would be to cycle all the way to New Zealand, through Europe, Turkey, the Middle East, India and Asia. I’d have to rent my house out and work out a way to fund it, writing maybe, or sponsorship, or stopping to work along the way, but it would be amazing to cycle all that way through such a diverse range of cultures and landscapes. One to ponder some more; one thing for sure is that I’d need a new back wheel before embarking on such a journey!

View across Inner Sound towards Skye

Another great view

Sand dune running up to cliff

Applecross Bay 1 – cool clouds

Applecross Bay 2 – sunshine extraordinaire

I finally turned the corner after one last significant ascent, heading East into Applecross Bay, with Applecross’ white buildings gleaming in the sunshine at its far end. As I rode down the hill towards the village, a large bird of prey flew over and landed in the grass further up the mountain. It had the right wing shape and was the right colour to be a golden eagle, but didn’t look big enough, so I thought it was probably a buzzard. I later learned that there were some juvenile eagles in the area, so maybe that’s what I saw.

Applecross

Applecross panorama

I arrived at the campsite at about 19.30, having covered around 67 miles which I was pleased with, and that doesn’t include going backwards and forwards at one point. I’d got into the zone more today, so the miles had seemed to pass more quickly despite some long climbs with fairly steep gradients, thinking about expeditions in foreign climes, books and movies, and wondering what was going on in Norwich, and very briefly at work. The climbs were all good practice for tomorrow and the dreaded Bealach-Na-Ba, which was going to take some effort. I was glad my back wheel had held out, with no more loose spokes I could find, although it was a bit wonky.

Me looking pretty hot – sweaty that is

Applecross campsite is great, with an on site restaurant called the Flower Tunnel where I had chilli and nachos, followed by a large pizza; I was mega hungry and needed to carb load for tomorrow. The staff are really friendly and helpful, and let me charge up my mobile and Power Monkey battery pack that I still need to get a new lead for, to connect to the solar panel. I planned to order one online and get it delivered to Loch Melfort, where my parents have a time share, although I might just be able to find one in Fort William.

There was no mobile reception to speak of at the campsite, so I decided to try buying Internet access via the Highland wifi network. It’s a bit expensive so not something I want to do very often, but it worked fairly well, despite logging me off the network frequently and then not letting me back on until I reset my browser. It allowed me to catch up on emails and do some planning, as well as have a quick FaceTime call with my brother and sister-in-law, but it wouldn’t let me transfer photos off my phone onto my iPad as I could only have one device logged in at a time – I can see why but it was a bit irritating.

Given the superb weather and location I considered having a day off and resting up. I’d ridden over 2,000 miles so was nearly halfway, and hadn’t had a day of absolutely no cycling since setting off from Norwich over a month ago. I start to feel slightly anxious if I don’t progress even a small way each day, so I put off a decision until the morning, retreating to my tent to get away from the midges which were starting to appear now. I realised I’d have to careful of sunburn as well as insect bites, having noticed a few slightly burned patches on my legs – sock line. Itchy insect bites and sunburn would be a pretty bad combination to endure.

I’d received an email from a friend at work, with a poem I thought I’d include to finish today. As always great to receive encouragement and know that people are finding my blog interesting, or even inspiring to a degree, so thanks Dave.

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

Edited with BlogPad Pro

Leg 34 – to Gairloch and the Big Sands Campsite

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A 59 mile stint, despite a late start.

03 June 2013

After a slightly hazy start to the morning due to the whisky consumed the previous evening, I had a quick breakfast and got down to the business of the day, which first involved mending my rear wheel.

I had to take the wheel off again, remove the tyre and find the spoke nipple, before reattaching the whole thing, a messy job. I then spent about 30 minutes carefully trying to straighten the wheel without over tightening the spokes. It’s a tricky job but I managed to get it vaguely straight without anything going ping, and the wheel rotating without rubbing against the brake blocks, a result in my books. I’d still need to find a bike shop to get it professionally straightened and the spokes tightened, however the next shop I’d pass wasn’t going to be until Portree on the Isle of Skye; even if I diverted inland there were none closer. My administrations would just have to suffice for the time being.

Having spent a while on the bike, then getting a shower and packing up, I missed the 10.30 ferry to Stornaway. On reflection I decided this was probably a good thing, as I wanted to get further down the coast with a lot of Scotland left to do. I could always catch the ferry from Oban across to Barra at a later stage, depending on how I was time wise. I had a quick trip to a supermarket to restock on a few supplies, having run out of shampoo for starters but also needing breakfast stuff, then had a ride around Ullapool, which is well worth a visit even if you’re not catching the ferry.

The ferry I just missing, leaving it's berth

The ferry I just missed, leaving it’s berth

Rowing skiff out practicing in the bay

As I rode along the seafront a couple of Tornados roared through over the bay, practicing some low level flying by the looks of it – almost another Top Gun moment.

Looking out along Loch Broom towards the Hebs

Bike post restocking at supermarket – banana and baguette accessories

Before leaving Ullapool I had an early lunch at the Ferry Boat Inn, who serve a great sausage bap. Food photos are for my Japanese readers to give them an idea of ‘traditional’ Scottish fare, although I’m not convinced that usually involves salad.

Ferry Boat Inn – sausage bap

View from Ullapool across Loch Broom

The Ferry Boat Inn

I hit the road south at 13.00, with at least a 55 mile leg in front of me which I hoped wasn’t going to be too mountainous. I wasn’t too worried as it stays light so late, and would be alright as long as I didn’t encounter any significant wheel trouble.

From Ullapool I cruised down the A835 alongside Loch Broom. Aside from the traffic, which consisted of some big lorries, it was a nice ride through woodland with bigger trees for a change. This section ended with a big climb up the Corrieshalloch Gorge, with the weather deteriorating I turned on to the A832 to follow the coast.

Riding up towards Corrieshalloch Gorge – bigger trees but weather deteriorating

I stopped at the Falls of Messach, and walked down to the gorge and Victorian suspension bridge. The gorge is startling, and the bridge over it wobbles quite a bit when there’s more than one person on it. I decided not to bounce up and down as I didn’t want to upset anyone, or cause them to fly into the depths of the gorge.

Road bridge over the Gorge, before reaching the falls

Falls of Messach – Victorian suspension bridge

Corrieshalloch Gorge

Falls of Messach – looking down on them from suspension bridge

In a fit of enthusiasm I ran back up the path to my bike, something I’d no doubt pay for later. With the rain closing in I progressed up a gradual but on reflection long climb in the shadow of Meall An T-Sithe – I don’t know if that means anything specific but it sounds cool.

View back towards Ullapool

The roads takes you up pretty high, and I passed quite a few patches of snow further up the mountain – they weren’t that much further up the mountain.

Road over the top – snow on mountains

Low cloud and rain ahead, was going to get wet

I felt like I was on the road to Mordor at this stage, with the fairly bleak landscape and weather closing in. At least it wasn’t winter when this road must get closed by snow fairly regularly. And at least the weren’t any Orcs or Uruk’hai chasing me, although couldn’t be absolutely sure of that. A lot of the place names around here sound very Tolkien, and surely provided him with some of his inspiration.

Having travelled upwards for so long there followed a remarkably long descent down to Dundonnell, that seemed to go on forever, but did take me down into more verdant territory, with the first flowering rhododendrons I’d seen this year providing a stark contrast to the trees and mountains. I free wheeled down most of the way, at quite some speed, just hoping my back wheel held out. The downhill section was only slightly marred by another cold shower, however I didn’t bother putting my waterproof on as it was protecting a couple of baguettes I’d bought earlier and attached to my rear rack cargo net. I’d rather have gotten wet than be eating soggy baguettes later. As it was I was pretty much blown dry by the time I reached the bottom, and the sun came out.

The descent to Dundonnell

Rhododendrons

I stopped outside the Dundonnell Hotel and ate a pork pie and some fruit I’d bought earlier, as well as some chocolate, chatting with the only other cyclist I’d seen all day; a lone tourer on his last couple of days around the Highlands. He was about to go home before packing his car and going to the Isle of Skye where he had a cottage for the week. He was staying at the bunkhouse just up the road from Dundonnell, and hadn’t been camping, hence had a lot less kit. Got me thinking I ought to try the occasional bunkhouse. We agreed the hills around here had been an ‘interesting’ challenge before parting ways, wishing each other the best of luck and the wind at your back etc etc.

Continuing along the coast there followed another long climb up to Gruinard Bay, with Gruinard Island in the middle of it. The island was the site of Anthrax tests during the Second World War, both with a view to dealing with such an attack from Germany, or launching an attack versus them. Happily neither occurred but the island was contaminated for years afterwards, not being declared safe until 1990. It’s safe now, but uninhabited aside from sheep, who haven’t keeled over. Apparently the original owners were able to buy it back for £500 once it was declared safe, the price agreed with the government during the war.

Gruinard Bay and Island

There followed another long climb out of Gruinard, the steepest of the day. I made it up despite my chain slipping off at one point; I wonder if I’ll need to replace my gear cassettes soon too. I rode on passing through Laide and Aultbea as the narrow road dipped and turned, past more great scenery including deserted beaches, cliffs and patches of pine forest.

Road around to Laide

Passing over more mountain streams

Deserted beaches

Aultbea is quite a sizeable village, with the Isle of Ewe in the centre of the bay – Loch Ewe. There looked to be houses on the Isle as well, probably farms by the looks of it. The sea was flat calm today and it had been lovely riding so far, despite the hills and occasional shower. I put it down to there being no headwind, which really makes a difference to your morale as well as your speed. I’d also only had to tighten one spoke so far so must have been doing something right.

Loch Ewe, with Aultbea on the right, and the Isle of Ewe in the centre

Aultbea

Poolewe

I rode on to Poolewe, where followed another long ascent before finally riding down into Gairloch. I stopped at a general store to buy some Branston Pickle that I’d started craving for some reason, before turning right up the B8021, through Gairloch itself, and on to Big Sand where there’s a campsite. Gairloch is a nice looking town and I thought I’d stop at one of the cafes on the way back through tomorrow.

The ride alongside Loch Gairloch was really magical, with the sun coming out, the sea flat calm, no traffic to speak of on the gently undulating road, and no headwind. Sitting up in the saddle I relaxed and rode the last 3 miles admiring the view, but forgetting to take any photos, accompanied by the odd cuckoo and a few ducks out on the water, and only interrupted from my reverie when I rumbled over the odd cattle grid; they always worry me as they rattle my wheels around.

The campsite at Big Sand is set right against the seashore, amongst the dunes covered in Marram Grass. It was really peaceful, it not being the school holidays, and I had plenty of space to find a spot for my tent. Having arrived at 19.30, covering 59 miles in the end, reception was closed so I’d settle up in the morning again.

With my tent set up I proceeded to feast on baguettes, Crowdie cheese left over from yesterday, ham, pork pie, Branston pickle, tomatoes, a banana, two cookies, a twix and some peanuts…I didn’t think it excessive. Just about sated I went for a walk on the beach and sat with a beer on a dune for a while, just letting the calm atmosphere wash over me. It was a great spot just to relax, gazing out across the slightly misty loch towards mountains in the distance. I hoped to see some dolphins or a whale, but there were only seabirds out on the water as far as I could see. I walked down to the waters edge thinking how much Lucy would have liked it here, so I built a small cairn near the dunes to mark the spot for her.

Big Sand and Loch Gairloch

Dunes covered in Marram Grass

View back to campsite and my tent

Beautiful view across loch towards mountains of Skye

Low tide at Loch Gairloch

Waves gently lapping on the shore

Pebbles at Big Sand

Cairn to mark the spot for Lu

With seaweed attachment for artistic purposes

Wandering back to my tent I met a German couple touring by motorbike – one of the many sets of German bikers I’ve passed up here. We had a good chat about our rides so far; they’re off up north to Cape Wrath, with me heading south. Karl had been there before and agreed it was much more impressive than John o’Groats. They also informed me they had a friend who was a local whale watcher, who says that the whales and dolphins weren’t coming in yet as there’s little in the way of plankton due to the late spring and it being cold for longer. This means for example the fish the dolphins feed on (mackerel) haven’t come in, as they in turn haven’t got as much to feed on, all part of the food chain. We also had a chat about the relative state of the economies in both countries, Karl reckoning that things weren’t as good as people think in Germany, with a lot of people on very low income jobs (400 Euro jobs); he was certainly concerned about what would happen if he lost his job, being nearly 50 which does make a difference to your employability, despite it not being supposed to.

Turning in for the night I chilled out listening to some music for a while (Abney Park). The cuckoo I’d heard earlier still going strong at 23.30 when I fell asleep. It was so peaceful I could have stayed for a while, but I needed to make my way down to Applecross, before crossing over Bealach-Na-Ba (pass of the cattle) and on to Skye.

Sun going down at campsite

Sunset at Big Sands – the colours were actually much more dramatic than this picture shows

Sunset at Big Sand 2

Thanks to Nigel and Rich for the texts today, helped get me up some big hills!

Edited with BlogPad Pro

Bike Around Britain

Blog on cycling around the coast of Britain

Monthly Archives: June 2013

Leg 42 – to Oban

Leg 41 – to Fort William from Mull

Leg 40 – to Tobermory, Calgary and Killiechronan on Mull

Leg 39 – to Kilchoan

Leg 38 – to Arisaig

Day 38 – rest day in Uig

Leg 37 – to Uig

Leg 36 – to Skye via Bealach-Na-Ba

Leg 35 – to Applecross

Leg 34 – to Gairloch and the Big Sands Campsite