Tag Archives: countryside

Leg 58 – to Anglesey

Before I start a quick congratulations to Will and Louisa, my brother and sister-in-law, on the birth of their daughter Anna Constance on 02 August, which is easy to remember because it was Lucy and I’s wedding anniversary. Being an Uncle to a niece as well as nephew is pretty exciting!

Anna post a trip out to the park – she’d mostly been asleep until we got back

Nephew Seb tackling an ice cream, clever boy

28 June 2013

The not unusual sound of rain hitting my tent greeted me when I awoke, so I decided to have breakfast in bed and hoped it would stop. It did eventually so I clambered out, receiving my first shower of the morning as cold rain water ran off the canvas and down my neck. Now thoroughly awake I checked my bike and discovered another broken spoke I hadn’t noticed the day before. Luckily I had spares so I swapped in a new one. This was the first time I’d changed a spoke without assistance, and I followed Simon from Topmark’s advice; the bike shop I’d stopped at in Barrow-in-Furness.

I was able to remove the old spoke, leaving the nipple in the rim, and then thread in a new spoke and join it up, so I didn’t have to disassemble the entire wheel, bonus! I had to bend things around a bit but it worked fine, and after about 20 minutes of adjustments I was satisfied the wheel was straight and nothing was going to rub.

The rain and bike maintenance, followed by a shower and packing up, meant I didn’t leave the campsite until 10.30ish, bidding goodbye to the only other campers post a quick chat. The little girl wanted to know if I’d been woken up by the police sirens in the night, or the drumming, I hadn’t, having a tendency to sleep quite deeply once wrapped up in my tent. I hoped the weather improved for them.

Henllys – packed up and ready for another day, grey skies again

I rode towards Abergele, joining the A547 along the coast. I wanted to avoid the busy and potentially dangerous A55 after yesterday’s experiences on dual carriageways. Just outside Abergele lies an impressive looking castle, which I subsequently learned is Gwrych Castle. It was built between 1812 and 1822, and is currently undergoing restoration with a view to converting it into a hotel – not sure how that work is going. Unfortunately I didn’t get any decent photos of it from the road, due the high curtain wall, so the one below is from google.

Gwrych Castle

It fell into a bit of a derelict state after a succession of owners, then being vandalised, lived in by travellers, and suffering from collapsed floors, ceilings and the odd fire, so it obviously needs a lot of work. It could look like a fairy tale castle, with its follys and extensive grounds, so hopefully something good will happen. If I won the lottery, or earned loads of money somehow, I’d consider buying it if it wasn’t so far away from everywhere.

Continuing on my way I pedalled around to Colwyn Bay, having to negotiate at least one hill in the process.

Colwyn Bay

Colwyn Bay – wild flowers, or probably weeds but I thought they looked pretty

I rode along the promenade to Rhos-on-Sea, before rejoining the road to Llandudno.

Colwyn Bay – promenade, sun even threatening to come out

Up until Llandudno there’d been few hills to contend with, and the rain had mostly held off aside from the odd patch of drizzle, so things were looking promising. Llandudno itself seemed a pleasant place, with a wide promenade you can cycle along to Great Orme’s Head, which looms over the town.

Llandudno and Great Orme’s Head

The Mad Hatter – always been a bit of an Alice in Wonderland fan

I stopped in Llandudno for a bite to eat, and took advantage of some wifi to check my route and schedule. I reckoned I had around 1,300 miles left to get around to London, as long as I didn’t throw in any more islands or detours, which was just about doable by 17 July. As usual I’d make up my route as I went along, and stop when I found somewhere nice, that’s about as far as my advanced planning goes really. I only needed to keep the coast on my right, and ensure I averaged around 75 miles a day.

Unfortunately the rain set in post post Llandudno, coming down pretty hard, and I was quickly drenched – not that my shoes had had chance to dry out anyway. My waterproof had definitely seen better days and was leaking in several places, serving only to trap a layer of warmish water close to my skin, which I guess was better than being cold.

I rode over the bridge to Conwy and Conwy Castle, and opted to take the old suspension bridge into town.

Conwy Suspension Bridge

The bridge is run by the National Trust, having originally been built by Thomas Telford in the early 19th century as part of the large scale road improvements between Chester and Bangor.

Bridge and Conwy Castle

River Conwy – view under the road bridge

On the suspension bridge

I enjoy looking at old feats of engineering and majestic buildings such as Conwy Castle, and often wish we put as much effort into elegant construction these days as our forebears did in past centuries.

The bridge again – are you bored of bridge photos yet?

The castle was built in the late 13th century, by that old favourite Edward I, during his conquest of Wales; he certainly liked his wars. It saw fairly active service over the years, before being partially slighted after the English Civil war and subsequently falling into ruin. It’s been restored since, and stands proud above the River Conwy as a World Heritage Site.

Conwy Castle

It has massive defensive walls, which explains how it withstood sieges successfully. Must have been daunting to assault those walls with the defenders hurling things at you.

Conwy Castle tower

Conwy itself is a nice looking town, with its own wall, and with lots of holiday makers wandering about its attractive streets.

Conwy town with castle in background – sky looks threatening

Conwy town and wall

Conwy – raining again

Avoiding the A55 I was able to ride along a cycle path for the next stage, which was handy given the road was very busy, with a lot of spray being kicked up by the traffic. Even off the main road it was a hard ride down the coast, with a fierce headwind at times, and the continuing rain soaking me further.

Looking back toward Great Orme’s Head and Llandudno

The cycle path had a few exciting sections as it tracked the coast road, which itself passed through tunnels through the hills. I road up over cycle bridges, crossing the A55 on suspended walk/cycle ways that felt a little exposed in the wind. The track wound around, up and over the hills, rather than going through them like the road. This meant a few significant but fun climbs, despite the rain, and wind which when gusting nearly stopped me dead a couple of times. I had my head down as I was fighting into the wind, and nearly ran into a cyclist coming the other way at one point. Luckily he shouted a warning and I moved over; I think we were both pretty surprised to see someone else out in these conditions.

Cycle track following the busy A55

Continuing along the coast, thoroughly drenched again, I took shelter out of the wind and rain for a bit in a roofed seating area. It was a relief not to have the wind blasting me for a few minutes, and I had a few biscuits to top up energy levels.

A stop out of the wind near Llanfairfechan

Riding on along a bit of promenade I approached a group of mallard ducks, sitting stoically in the rain by the side of the road. They looked quite content, until suddenly alarmed they took flight as a couple of terriers emerged from the bushes behind them, barking and dashing about in an animated fashion. The dogs obviously thought it was great fun, however the ducks were less than impressed as was evident from their disdainful quacking. They also flew directly into my path, and due to their low trajectory I was subject to a few wing buffets and close encounters with beaks. A high velocity duck quacking in your face can be quite alarming, however they were soon out of my way, and landed 50 yards away keeping an eye on the dogs who’d been hastily summoned by their owners.

The dog owners were somewhat apologetic, although they were laughing – it was quite funny. Given the abundance of signs on British roads I was surprised there wasn’t one warning of low flying ducks. On the subject of road signs, I do get rather irritated by how many there are. Do you really need signs warning that there aren’t any road markings. If you can’t see that there aren’t any road markings you probably shouldn’t be driving. Even more disturbing are the ones that tell you that cat’s eyes have been removed, I mean what kind of sicko goes around doing that. There are just so many signs you end up getting sign overload and start ignoring all of them, which defeats the purpose of the whole thing. Is there a bureaucrat somewhere trying to use up their sign budget or something, in case it gets slashed next year? Anyway, enough of slipping into grumpy old man mode, I’m still relatively young dammit.

The next section took me down a few country roads as I looped inland to avoid the main road, on my way to Bangor.

Wet country roads near Abergwyngregyn

The route would have been lovely on a different day, with nicer weather, but it was just too wet and windy to enjoy today. I still however took satisfaction from the fact I was making good progress despite the conditions, and pressed on to Bangor.

I eventually made it to Bangor, which is a bit confusing road wise. I somehow completely missed the city centre, but decided not to loop back, and rode on to Anglesey which I’d opted to include despite my earlier thoughts on not doing any more islands. I reckoned I could just about include Anglesey, or Ynys Mon in Welsh, and still make it round in time for Latitude. I might just need to add on a few miles to some other legs.

I wanted to see the fabled island of the Druids, which was attacked by the Romans back in AD60 who wanted to break their hold over the Celtic tribes. General Gaius Suetonius Paulinus and his amphibious Batavian contingent were apparently successfully in vanquishing them, putting many to the sword and destroying shrines and sacred groves. These Romans obviously had no intention of preserving sites of archaeological interest for future generations. Still, General Paulinus had to retreat before he could consolidate his victory due to Boudica and the Iceni revolting in the east (good old boys (and girls) as they say in Norfolk), just down the road from where I live, so I kind of hope some of the Druids survived to pass on their culture and history to future generations. It’s nice to think that maybe a little bit of magic and wonder of a different kind existed back then, however I suspect the Druids were pretty terrifying in their own right, and relied on superstition, rituals and fear to keep control. I could draw certain parallels with some modern religious institutions at this stage, but I won’t.

The Menai Straits from the Menai Bridge – Britannia Bridge in the distance

I rode over the Menai Bridge to the Isle, stopping to take in the view as the rain began to stop.

The Ridgeback on the Menai Bridge

My dad was apparently stationed on or near Anglesey when he was in the RAF, and many antics were got up to, some of which involved the bridge. I believe at least one of my god fathers was also involved, but probably shouldn’t go into any more detail in case warrants are still outstanding.

Me on the Menai Bridge – helmet wonky as usual

I wasn’t going to do the whole coast of the island, but wanted to do a circuit to see what it was like, so rode up the A5025 towards Amlwch. There are lots of campsites on Anglesey so I wasn’t worried about finding a place to pitch up later, and if the worst came to the worst I was sure there’d be a quiet spot off the beaten track I could stop at for the night.

The rain stopped as I rode on, finally, and it turned into a lovely ride despite the initial heavy traffic on the road. Anglesey is by no means flat, but neither is it very hilly, the road just undulates a lot.

Travelling up the A5025 on Anglesey – could this have once been a sacred grove?

I stopped in Benllech to pick up a few supplies at a small supermarket, stuffing down a doughnut to get some energy back, followed by a banana for good measure, and a chocolate bar to be sure. The road continued on to Amlwch, which is lacking in any vowels, but that isn’t unusual in Wales. I didn’t know how you pronounced it, but tried rolling the word around my mouth a few times. I don’t know how you pronounce a lot of place names in Welsh so I’d be useless if anyone asked for directions. It was nice to hear people speaking Welsh though, which has a musical quality to it.

Amlwch – twinned with Sankwia in The Gambia, which I thought was a little odd

With the evening stretching on, but the sun making an appearance for the first time in a while, I pedalled along the coast from Amlwch to Cemaes Bay before turning south down towards Holyhead.

Anglesey has it fair share of wind farms

I passed a signpost to Church Bay where my dad used to go on holiday as a child, which potentially would have been a good place to stop for the night, but I decided to get a few more miles done.

Anglesey countryside – looking towards the centre of the island

I didn’t go all the way to Holyhead, it basically being a sprawling ferry port where boats go to and from Ireland. Instead I turned back towards the Menai Bridge on the A5. I’d found a promising looking campsite via the web earlier, but was having trouble locating it on my map, and I didn’t have enough reception to use my phone. This meant I ended up riding slightly later than anticipated, via a more convoluted route.

A random standing stone

Looking south west towards Holyhead

Looking towards Church Bay

I pedalled through more very Welsh sounding villages, although I guess they may well have Irish origins, the Irish having invaded in the early 5th century before being defeated in 470 by some Scots who popped down for a rumble.

Sun going down over some cows

It was quite an impressive sunset

After passing through Bryngwran, Gwalchmai and Llanrhyddlad I arrived at the Tally Ho campsite just off the B4422, not far from Bodorgan. It’s a nice small Camping and Caravaning site, with friendly owners and a quiet camping field. You can order breakfast from them for the morning too, but I’d just bought a load of supplies which I needed to eat, regrettably. A bacon roll or two would have been most welcome. The campsite was £10 a night so averagely priced, with a decent but small toilet and shower block.

I’d arrived about 21.30, so was quite hungry, and set up my tent quickly before settling down to a meal of bread, cheese and BBQ’d chicken I’d bought earlier, accompanied by crisps, tomatoes and fruit. I saved some of the bread and a pork pie or two for the morning, before a dessert of chocolate buttons and a can of cider for good measure.

Sun gone on Anglesey

It was pretty late by the time I was all fed and watered, so after a quick call to my parents I retreated into my tent to write my journal, although I kept falling asleep so had trouble finishing it. The bleating of many sheep helped keep me vaguely awake, a kind of fiendish evening chorus on their part. Aside from the livestock it was a fairly quiet site, with several groups camped up in either tents or caravans. The lack of wind and rain meant sleep came fairly quickly once I’d stopped trying to write, although I was a somewhat preoccupied with how I could dry my shoes which where in danger of giving me a case of trench foot.

Having done 84 miles today I was in a good place to finish Anglesey tomorrow, before continuing along the coast to Caernarfon, and then further west to the Lleyn Peninsula. I was aiming to be up early in the morning for another longish leg, to keep my average mileage at a respectable score. The sky was clear so it looked like the weather would be better tomorrow; some heat would be nice to dry off a few things.

Bonuit tout le monde 🙂

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Leg 54 – to Flookburgh via Barrow-in-Furness

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Before starting to recount Leg 54, here’s a link to the latest fun sketch from It’s A Trap:

It’s A Trap are a Norwich based group of friends who create entertaining film and audio shorts, check out our YouTube channel. I wasn’t involved in this one, so it was a nice surprise!

24 June 2013

I woke up in good time, keen to get down to Barrow-in-Furness where there’s a good bike shop I’d found on the net the evening before. The wind had dropped a bit but was still blowing, however it was a nice bright day.

Morning in St Bees

Breakfast consisted of sausage rolls due to a slight lack of other supplies, although I wasn’t complaining, beats cornflakes. I had a quick check of the bike ably assisted by Lobster; my temporary spoke fix was holding up well, although my carapaced friend was somewhat dubious as to its potential longevity.

Post a shower I was ready to hit the road by 09.00, and got on my way after bidding goodbye to the lads starting their coast to coast, as well as Dave the dog walker, who donated a quid to the Big C – thanks Dave, it all helps!

I stopped just outside the campsite to take another look at the bay and beach in the daylight.

St Bees bay

I quite fancied spending a day on the beach, however bike mending was required.

St Bees beach

St Bees beach looking south

St Bees village looked nice, with several promising pubs.

St Bees village, I crossed the level crossing with care, nervous of more spokes going

I pedalled along the wriggly country roads out of St Bees, the scenery proving to be a lot more entertaining than yesterday, with dramatic hills, and the wind being mostly behind me making for easier riding. It was a great ride down past Sellafield, near Seascale, where I was hoping I might benefit from a gamma ray or two to give my legs some Hulk like power, sadly it appears the plant is too well shielded for such things.

Sellafield – the nuclear reprocessing site

Next up was Ravenglass, another village which sounds like it should be in a science fiction or fantasy novel, with it’s Roman Baths and the castle of Muncaster just next door. By the looks of it there’s lots to do in the area, and I’d have to add it to my list of places to come back to, along with a visit to the Lake District which I was mostly missing by sticking to the coast. Sticking to the coast did have some benefits in that I missed the steepest of the hills, however I still had to deal with my fair share on the way down to Barrow-in-Furness.

Looking East into the Lake District – ominous clouds

I was slightly concerned about the numerous dark clouds lurking over the a Lake District, making it look a bit Mordor like, however the coast looked mostly clear. I stopped at a garage in Holmrook and bought a chicken and leak pie for second breakfast, just in case the weather turned and I needed the extra energy – that was my excuse anyway. It was homemade and tasted excellent, so I bought another one for later, then phoned the bike shop to let them know I was coming and to make sure they could fit a quick wheel repair in. I ended up having quite a long chat with Simon, their wheel builder, who gave me a few pointers on my route down to Barrow. I was looking forward to meeting the guys at Topmark (108 Greengate Street, Barrow-in-Furness).

Riding down the A595

The hills looked impressive, and of course were called Fells now, rather the Braes or Munros of Scotland. Scarfell Pike lurked in their somewhere, which I’d climbed one early morning several years ago, starting when it was dark and reaching the top as the dawn broke. We were doing the 3 peaks challenge at the time, and I remember leading our group up a rather dubious looking path, using my head torch to pick out the stone cairns that marked the route. Thankfully we avoided any steep drops and saw the sun rise, before charging back down for bacon rolls at the minibus, happy days.

Muncaster Castle

The signs said Muncaster Castle was allegedly haunted, however in the sunshine it didn’t look very spooky. I had fun whizzing down the hill through the trees from it, and then across the flood plain towards Bootle.

The great countryside continued, accompanied by a few significant hills which got my legs and lungs going, as I looped around through Millon and down to Barrow-in-Furness. The last bit alongside the Duddon Channel and through Askam seemed to take an age, with lots of ups and downs, however I made it to Barrow at about 13.00, after a good session having covered around 50 miles.

I headed straight for Topmark, sort of, via a slightly roundabout route really, and met up with Simon who quickly got to work replacing my two broken spokes, and straightening out my wheel. This was a bit of a tricky task as I’d had to make a lot of tweaks to make it here (I’d done a bodge job really), and essentially involved slackening all the spokes off and starting again.

Wheel straightened and reattached I picked up some spare spokes in case any more broke, and Simon gave me a few tips on wheel maintenance, and on my route over the next couple of days. I could only deal with non-drive side spokes, as the drive side are harder to get at and you need a tool I wasn’t carrying with me, so I was hoping it would only be non-drive side that broke, if any. It wasn’t surprising I was encountering spoke breakages, the rear wheel wasn’t exactly right for the bike, and I was carrying a lot of weight over some pretty rigorous terrain. My worry was that now they’d started to break they might all go, a bit like Velcro undoing. I also got my chain checked – it was still well within limits, so I hoped it would get me back to Norwich.

Full marks to Topmark for friendly and efficient service, and going that extra mile to help me out and offer advice. I was getting to really enjoy dropping into bike shops along the way, you learn a lot as things break! Here’s a link to the Topmark website – http://www.topmarkonline.com/ (they also do lots of water sports equipment)

Post bike repairs I grabbed a quick cheeseburger from a McDonalds, because sometimes it’s just nice to eat dirty food, and they have free wifi, then had a quick look around Barrow-in-Furness.

Barrow-in-Furness – statue commemorating engineering that goes on it the city

It’s a quite a big town, and not very touristy being quite industrial. I had a look at where they build submarines from the bridge over to the Isle of Walney (BAE Systems).

Submarine building sheds – they were huge

Post Walney Island, which is essentially a large sand spit that been built on over the years, I followed Simon’s suggested route which took me along the cycle track from behind Morrisons, around the bay to Rampside. I passed a few frigates on the way.

Cycle path along bay

Frigates 1 – Barrow-in-Furness

I was a bit confused as to which navy the frigates belonged to, however the mystery has been solved by the Interweb! Apparently the 3 frigates have been moored there since 2007, after BAE built them for the navy of the Sultan of Brunei. Although the Sultan paid for them, he decided he didn’t want them anymore and was looking for someone else to sell them to. It doesn’t look like he’s had any luck, despite them being ‘lovely little runners’, with only one previous owner who has effectively left them boxed. At least the port is benefitting from harbour fees whist they’re moored there.

Frigates 2 – Barrow-in-Furness

Cycle path through the mudflats

I had to dodge around a group of kids drinking beer, who thought it would be fun to throw empty beer cans at me, and then met some police trying to find another group of kids who were running amok, nice area. Despite the local flora and fauna I made it around to Rampside and to the end of the road where a ferry runs over to Piel Castle.

Piel Island and Castle

A nice couple offered to take my photo, so here’s a rare shot of me and my bike in totality.

Jetty to ferry to Piel Island – me and my trusty steed

Of course then Lobster wanted to be in the photo too.

Me and Lobster – Piel Island

I decided against taking the ferry over to the island, it being a little windy out on the water, as demonstrated by my hair.

Ship ‘moored’ off causeway to Roa Island – not sure it was going anywhere in a hurry

A lovely ride along the western side of Morcambe Bay followed, up to Ulvertson, past the big sand flats which are so dangerous to the unwary, with people getting trapped on them by the tides and sinking sand.

Morecambe Bay

In 2004 twenty one Chinese immigrants were unfortunately drowned whilst collecting cockles out in the bay, when the tide came in. They were here illegally, and being paid £5 for a 25kg bag of cockles. They should have never been out on the sands, where they got cut off by the incoming tide despite a group of British workers trying to warn them. I guess desperate people will go to ay lengths to earn a crust, and unfortunately there are always people around who will take advantage. No one ended up getting prosecuted for any wrongdoing, which seems an injustice. I’d have thought those organising and paying the work gangs should be held accountable in some regard.

Morecambe Bay 2

In Ulvertson I rode past the Hoad monument, which commemorates Sir John Barrow, a founder member of the Royal Geographic Society.

Hoad Monument, Ulvertson

Again following Simon’s directions, and with my bike performing well, I rode around the top of the bay and down to Flookburgh, via a cycle path that avoided the worst bit of the A590. The cycle path took me over a footbridge traversing the River Leven, which flows from Lake Windemere into Morecambe Bay.

River Leven

The slightly bumpy cycle track eventually deposited me on the B5278, for a very pleasant final stretch through woodland.

Country road down to Flookburgh

I stopped at a local shop to buy a few provisions before heading to campsite; I’d decided to try a Haven Holiday Park, how bad could it be? The shop owner let me know the holiday park shop was a lot more expensive, he having worked there, so I stocked up on essentials, and enjoyed a cold bottle of banana milk before going any further.

It turned out to be an ‘interesting’ choice for a stop-over, but I thought I should at least experience the holiday park sensation once. I probably should have chanced it and found a spot to wild camp but the lure of a hot shower trapped me. The holiday park is massive, with it’s own small supermarket, restaurants, bars, and swimming pools, as well as of course the entertainment complex. There were lots of caravaners and campers there for a holiday, but after 30 minutes in the live lounge I realised it wasn’t exactly my sort of place. Agadoo and Road to Amarillo aren’t my favourite choices of music, but seemed quite popular amongst some of the punters. I had a chat with one of the bar staff with whom I sympathised for having to listen to the same music night after night. He said the worse thing was when he found himself singing along without realising it.

I retreated to a quieter bar where I could use the wifi, charge stuff, and write up my journal and blog in peace, over a pint. It had been a good days ride, with excellent progress made covering 87.5 miles, so I was keeping up my average. I wandered back to my tent at about 23.00, humming the Spice Girls and Ace of Base; if you can’t beat them join them.

Full moon again – maybe that explained things

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Leg 52 – to Annan

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22 June 2013

Rain, lots of rain. It had been raining when I got into my tent the evening before, and was still raining in the morning when I woke up. I lay in my sleeping bag for a bit contemplating what to do, before eventually deciding it couldn’t be helped and I needed to get on. I wanted to maintain at least 80 mile a day legs for a bit to give me some leeway in getting around to Suffolk in time for the Latitude Festival, and had emailed them to ask if I could reserve a ticket, so the race was on.

I got up as the rain stopped, perfect timing, meaning I could breakfast, shower and pack up relatively quickly and with a mostly dry tent. It was my brother’s birthday so I sent him a message, and would call later assuming I find dry land; everywhere was a little soggy.

After visiting reception to pay up for last night, I was on the road by 10.00, pedalling from Creetown down the coast, under grey skies and into a rather blustery wind. The wind was supposed to be a Westerly, or South Westerly, but seemed to keep changing its mind during the morning session, buffeting me around a bit. The sea in Wigtown Bay was looking progressively rougher, with plenty of white horses and churning waters. There was definitely the possibility of worse weather to come, but it’s so unpredictable in Scotland, it could have been sunny again in a few hours.

Grey skies and slightly choppy sea – although this bay was relatively calm

I pedalled down the A75, past Ravenshall Wood, and Mossyard where I’d considered heading for to camp up last night; I was glad I hadn’t as it didn’t look as good as the Castle Cary Holiday Park and Lairds Inn. I made my way up the side of the Big Water of Fleet, crossing the river just below Gatehouse of Fleet, and turning off the main road on to the B727 down to Borgue. Imagine my ‘relief’ to be passing fields full of sheep again, phew, at least they weren’t in the middle of the road or ambushing me for a change.

Kirkcudbright Bay

Passing through more farmland I cycled up to Kirkcudbright, crossing the River Dee (I think there are a few River Dees around), another sticky-out bit of coastline done. There were several yachts of different shapes and sizes making their way up the river to the marina, including one nice looking catamaran, which I always have trouble spelling for some reason. The yachts were all using their engines rather than being under sail, the wind being somewhat unpredictable and feisty.

Kirkcudbright waterside – few dinghies out sailing

Kirkcudbright waterside – fishing boats moored up

I had a bit of a cycle around the town, dodging the frequent groups of OAPs on tour that seemed to gravitate towards my heavily laden and potentially lethal bike. People use their ears more than they realise for crossing the road, and don’t necessarily look both ways as per the green cross code! I’d have flattened a few people if it wasn’t for my bell, or hollering, or evasive manoeuvres learnt from tackling sheep infested roads.

MacLellan’s Castle – Kirkcudbright

Kirkcudbright is a pretty town, with its castle, marina, and several galleries, as well as the Belfry Cafe where I stopped for a bite to eat. The Belfry turned out to be a great greasy spoon, and I ordered the all day breakfast, after briefly contemplating the roast beef, all very reasonably priced at around a fiver. It proved to be a good choice, with lots of carbs for the ride ahead. I’d try and find somewhere for a roast tomorrow, when I’d be back in England, touch wood.

Kirkcudbright Marina – still a very grey day

Suitably refuelled, and after a quick chat with the mistress of the house concerning the merits of hearty Scottish fare, I got on my way again heading down the A711 along the coast. There are a few dead end roads you can take to get closer to the coast, however I ignored these pedalling all the way around to Dalbeattie. I’d considered visiting Castle Douglas, but that would have meant a detour inland which given the weather I wasn’t really up for, so it would have to wait for another day.

Kirkcudbright Bay from the other side – bit of blue sky!

With quite a bit left to do today I crossed the Urr Water, and pressed on round yet another sticky-out bit, past Dundrennan and its Abbey, with my brakes squealing a bit too loudly down one of the few larger hills of the day; I’d need to adjust them later.

Dundrennan Abbey

Dundrennan Abbey was built in 1142, as a Cistercian Monastery, but fell into ruin following the reformation and the land passing to the crown. Mary Queen of Scots spent her last night in Scotland there, in 1568, before being imprisoned by the English.

There’s an MOD firing range and exercise area along the coast at Dundrennan too, and the red flags were up although I didn’t hear any bangs. I did see a few military helicopters flying about, hovering a bit, and then flying off, so some kind of exercise was going on. It would be fun to abseil out of a helicopter, as long as the rope proved to be long enough and the helicopter didn’t decide to ascend during the abseil.

I rode past Sandyhills and its big beach, which didn’t look very inspiring given the weather. There were still a few enthusiastic punters out on the sand, with kids building castles and people picnicking. Good to see other folks carrying on regardless of the weather, in that fine British tradition of forcing themselves to enjoy the seaside whatever the conditions.

At New Abbey I stopped for a break to have a quick look at Sweetheart Abbey, another Cistercian monastery, which proved to have a slightly morbid tale behind it. The Lady who built it was so devoted to her husband, that when he died in 1269 she had his heart embalmed and kept it in a casket of ivory and silver, as her ‘sweet and silent companion’. Lady Devorgilla lasted for another 20 years, keeping the casket close to hand, before she was buried alongside her husband, John de Balliol, with the casket clasped to her bosom. Call me conservative but that’s a bit odd if you ask me, reeking slightly of necromancy and lichdom. Their son was briefly king of Scotland, but met a tragic end, as so often seems to be the case with royalty of the period.

Sweetheart Abbey 1

The abbey is built out of distinctive local red sandstone, which looks pretty impressive.

Sweetheart Abbey 2

King Edward I stayed at the abbey one Christmas, and fought quite a few battles in the area suppressing the Scots in the Anglo/Scottish War. He spent a bit of time campaigning in the region, generally beating people up, before running out of money and having to retreat as troops and barons deserted. The pope had said his campaign was illegal anyway but he’d been trying to ignore that, obviously trying to route out all the necromancers! (this post might be going a bit odd)

Sweetheart Abbey 3

There’s also a handy toilet handy incidentally, which I was quite glad of, and lots of well marked trails for hikers and bikers.

With time-a-ticking, and the weather not really showing much sign of improvement, I rode on to Dumfries, passing some very muddy mountain bikers loading their bikes back on to their cars, after what must have been a good days off-roading. I’d being seeing signs for Dumfries for days, but found it to be rather unimpressive after a quick look around. Really I’d been expecting more after it being heralded for the last 200 miles or so.

Dumfries – the River Nith

Dumfries city centre

The coast road beckoned once more, so I cycled on through Glencaple, and round to Bankend before scooting along to Annan via minor roads that traversed the railway line several times. There’s a large area of marshland that doesn’t have any roads through it along that stretch, but no doubt has lots of interesting wildlife, and I passed signs to at least one more castle and a famous well.

Coast near River Nith estuary

I didn’t stop as I was enjoying the benefit of a tailwind for once, which had really helped with my average speed over the course of the day, once it had decided which direction to consistently blow from.

Some reeds, I think this was meant to be an arty photo

I arrived in Annan, which isn’t far from Gretna Green and the border, at about 19.00, and found the campsite just outside the town post shopping for dinner. I’d been noticing more and more English accents as I got closer to the border, which sounded a bit odd after so long in Scotland.

Unfortunately it started to rain in earnest as I pulled up to the campsite, having only been spitting for the last few miles. I had to put my tent up as it turned torrential, before diving inside and phoning the warden to let her know I was on site. I spent the rest of the evening cosy in my tent, feasting on pitta bread, cheese and peanut butter. I couldn’t be bothered to cook as I’d have got soaked, even if I’d sat in my porch area, and didn’t fancy one of my ration packs cold that were my back up meals.

Dry land had eluded me, but I gave my brother a call anyway to wish him happy birthday, celebrating with a can of beer which meant having to make a run for the toilet about 30 minutes later, and getting wet anyway. It was great to have a chat, a bit of a morale boost given the weather, and I was looking forwarding to getting back into England the following day.

Post a good days riding, having covered just over 91 miles, I drifted off to sleep pondering what it must have been live up here in the 13th century, during the Anglo/Scottish war. I can’t imagine it was an easy life, and the average life expectancy must have been low – perhaps that explained the suspicious signs of the dark arts being practiced at Sweetheart Abbey (I’m sure Lady Devorgilla was completely innocent really). Mind you I believe the average life expectancy in Scotland is still lower than in the rest of the UK, which needs to be rectified, so maybe there’s still the odd Lich about.

For those unaware of what a Lich is, here’s a picture, courtesy of Google. Also refer to the Witch King of Angmar from Lord of the Rings

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Leg 50 – to Stranraer

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Quick plug for a friend’s kickstarter project – Ren season 1. If you enjoyed the Lord of the Rings, the Hobbit, and that sort of genre of film, check out the link below as well as some of Kate’s previous film projects, such as Born of Hope. Well worth supporting!

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/mythica/ren-a-brand-new-epic-fantasy-series

20 June 2013

Leg 50 proved to be a longer day mileage wise, helped by the fact it was considerably flatter than recent days – 87 miles covered in total, getting me a long way further south.

Light rain on the tent didn’t bode particularly well for the day when I awoke, so I stayed inside for a bit waiting for it to stop. It did eventually and the sun came out, so I rolled out of my tent, getting a bit tangled up with my sleeping bag in my haste, but finally managing to extricate myself along with several other bits of kit in the process. I stuffed down a breakfast of leftovers including pitta bread, houmous, a banana, and smoked sausage, a bit of a weird combination but I reckoned it would keep me going for a bit. I would however need to restock soon.

Lobster implying a shower was probably in order

Before having a shower I gave my bike the once over, not quite satisfied I’d got my spokes quite right last night, but they seemed okay – think I was just getting paranoid over my rear wheel. Nothing was rubbing so I left it alone.

I was finally ready to hit the road by 11.00, and rode back down the hill to Largs stopping at one of the sweet shops to get some energy boosts for the day ahead; they’d tweeted me so I felt obliged to respond…oh the power of targeted marketing.

With the sun out and the isle of Great Cumbrae just off the coast, I pedalled south through Fairlie down the A78. The road was reasonably flat and straight for a change, but a little bit dull compared with previous weeks, and the traffic was also heavier again with lots of cars and lorries steaming along in both directions. Everyone always seems in a hurry to get past a cyclist, and whist I realise they have work to get to etc is waiting an extra 30 seconds to pass safely really going to make that much of a difference. Still, the drivers were still relatively patient compared with those further south.

I got my head down and passed West Kilbride, before tackling Ardrossan, Saltcoats and Stevenston, which all merged into one another and weren’t very remarkable. You can get the ferry from Ardrossan over to Arran or Campbeltown. I’d been tempted by Arran but had been in Scotland since 10 May and figured I really ought to make some longitudinal progress. There was also the risk of me going native if I stayed much longer!

Coast off Ardrossan

Skirting around several golf courses I made it to Irvine, riding through the town and on to Troon avoiding the busy dual carriageway. I stopped in Troon for a break, grabbing a sandwich and slice of pizza from a bakers, as well as a birthday card for my brother which was duly dispatched. His present will have to wait until I get home, but rest assured the garden gnome is coming!

The next bit was a tad convoluted as I pedalled around to Monkton, followed by Prestwick, past yet more golf courses and an airport, before arriving in Ayr. I didn’t pause in Ayr, although if I’d been there a few days later I could have met up with Esko from Finland who has been following my blog, and has dropped me a few emails; thanks for the support Esko, will have to cycle to Finland to meet up instead, I’ll add it to my list of destinations.

The route got a bit more interesting and scenic post Ayr, and I stopped in Alloway to look at the birthplace of Robert Burns, celebrated Scottish poet.

Burns Cottage

I hadn’t realised he died so young.

Burns Cottage in Alloway

There’s a museum you can visit, but I contented myself with a walk around the gardens and memorial, as well as the Brig o’ Doon bridge. The late medieval bridge is pretty impressive, and the setting for another verse from Burns’ Tam o’ Shanter poem. Tam rides over the bridge to escape a witch, as apparently they can’t cross running water, which seems a little inconvenient as far as one’s toilet is concerned.

I found this mouse a bit ominous, a bit like the ghost rabbit from Watership Down that had freaked me out as a child

Burns memorial – getting a facelift apparently

Tam o’ Shanter

Gardens and Brig a’ Doon

After a deficit of pleasant countryside for the last few miles I seem to have taken quite a few photos in Alloway.

View from Brig a’ Doon 1

View from Brig a’ Doon 2

On the Brig a’ Doon – no witches about

Brig a’ Doon

Post a bit of a photo frenzy, and with the nice weather and countryside distracting me slightly after the morning’s urban sprawl, I took the wrong road out of Alloway. I ended up heading up the B7024 towards Maybole instead of taking the intended coastal route. I tried to correct my mistake a few times, but just ended up getting turned around and still finished up in Maybole. Never mind, it was still a pleasant route through forest and farmland, with a few hills to keep things interesting (and sweaty).

Random ruin

I passed a couple of tourers going the other way who gave me a wave which I duly returned. They looked more loaded than me and were struggling slightly up the hill I was coasting down; I assured them they had a nice descent coming up. Unfortunately due to my wrong turning I missed an ‘electric brae’ that was marked on my map, which I’d have liked to see. For those who don’t know that’s a hill which plays a trick on the eye, so you think you’re going up when you’re in fact going down, and vice versa.

I took the A77 from Maybole back to the coast, with a few accidental extra miles added on to my tally for the day. There were still lots of miles for me to get through, so I pressed on through Kirkoswald and past Tam o’ Shanter’s house, then pedalled through Turnberry and along the coast to Girvan.

Back on the coast near Turnberry

Just past Lendalfoot there’s a memorial to a Russian cruiser, the Varyag, which has an interesting history. I wasn’t expecting to find a memorial to Russian cruiser on the west coast of Scotland, which ran aground and sank just off Lendalfoot in 1925.

Varyag memoria

Varyag memorial info

In case you can’t read the info in the photo above, the Varyag was involved in the Russo-Japanese war, it’s crew refusing to surrender in the battle of Chemulpo Bay in 1905. She and one other Russian ship were blockaded in the Korean port by 15 Japanese ships, but refused to strike their colours when offered the opportunity. An unequal battle followed, with a heroic attack by the Varyag, however eventually both Russian ships were unable to offer continued resistance and their crews scuttled them, before returning to Russian aboard foreign vessels. The Japanese later raised the vessel and added it to their own navy as ‘the Soya’, before selling it back to Russia in 1916. The Russians sent it to Britain in 1917 for repairs, but then had a bit of a revolution and it was set adrift. From what I can gather we then nickedsalvaged it, before selling it for scrap, but it ran aground and sank on the way to be dismantled, a bit of an ignominious end for a ship with such a valiant history.

Coast off Lendalfoot

I continued down the coast with the island of Ailsa Craig off the coast. At first the island really confused me as I couldn’t see it on my map, and I wondered if it was a mirage, or perhaps a giant turtle (it was a hot day and I probably hadn’t drunk enough water). I learned later that Ailsa Craig granite is used to make Curling Stones, and the island is currently up for sale but no-one wants to buy it. I think the asking price is around £1.5m, however I’m not sure what you’d do with it, perhaps build a secret base from which to mastermind plans to take over the world. Other than that it’s a bird reserve, home to large colonies of gannets and puffins

Ailsa Craig off the coast

A few longer hills followed as I rode around Bennane Head and through Ballantrae, with a long climb up to Smyrton and Auchencrosh which left me very hot. I realised my arms had burned slightly as my sun cream and worn off, probably hours before, whoops. The road surface was pretty shoddy in places which made for tough riding, and jarring my wrists which were really starting to ache, however I was rewarded with a nice long descent down to Loch Ryan.

Loch Ryan

I made it round to Cairnryan, from where Stenaline ferries leave for Ireland now, instead of from Stranraer. The traffic was still relatively heavy so I hurried round to Stranraer, arriving about 19.00, and found the Aird Donald campsite.

Around Loch Ryan to Stranraer

Stranraer in the distance

I had to interrupt the campsite owner during her soaps, however she was very accommodating and we had a quick chat. Apparently she doesn’t get as many tents as she used to, with the ferries having moved and more people in camper vans. It was only £8.00 a night, and my only company on the camping field were lots of rabbits. For some reason it felt a little spooky.

Aird Donald – I just couldn’t decide where to pitch my tent

Post setting up my tent I cycled into Stranraer on a considerably lighter bike, and had a quick tour around looking for somewhere to eat. In the end I decided upon a Chinese at the Sun Kai, as well as a couple of cold beers to celebrate a good day’s ride, and to cool off a bit. It proved to be a good choice, with lots of carb loading opportunities, and I also met Frank Montgomery (@tr6fom) a fellow cycle tourer. Frank, who lives in Leeds but is originally from Glasgow, had just completed a ride from Leeds to Glasgow in one day, covering over 200 miles, a pretty phenomenal effort. At 64 he’s just about to retire and has a lot of cycling plans. We chatted about touring ideas (Pyrenees sound very attractive) and experiences to date, with the restaurant girls chipping in with a few tips on the local area. A great evening and before I knew it 23.00 had arrived.

Dinner venue in Stranraer

Another day done I bid Frank goodbye, although I’d very likely bump into him tomorrow in Portpatrick, and headed back to the campsite. It was too late to start a blog entry at that point, however I made sure my written journal was up-to-date before I nodded off, slightly concerned my tent was being surrounded by rabbits intent on mischief.

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Leg 45 – to Lochgilphead

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15 June 2013

It was still raining when I woke up, and pretty hard judging by the sound of water hitting the canvas, so I decided to stay in my tent a bit longer and work on a blog post. The rain surely had to stop at some point, and I wanted a dry patch to pack up in, plus to check my rear wheel. I decided I’d definitely find a campsite tonight, to hopefully dry some stuff out. In the meantime there was no point in getting more stuff wet, so I’d wear my still damp kit which I reasoned might act a bit like a wetsuit (didn’t entirely work out as planned).

It didn’t stop raining, so I packed up about 10.00 rapidly getting wet again in the process. My tent was soaked, although it had been dry inside; I’d need to dry it out somehow in the evening as there was no way it was getting any dryer in the hills above Southend.

Bike maintenance in the rain

I did a quick check of my bike wheels and spokes, adjusting a few, before loading up and setting off down the hill. Everywhere was waterlogged, including the short track I’d walked down yesterday evening. I had to hop about a bit trying to stay on non-submerged areas to get back to the road, which had streams of water running down it. I’m not sure why I bothered trying to keep my feet out of the water, my shoes were still soaked from yesterday.

Very wet countryside

Damp but still smiling

I rode around the coast towards Campbeltown, in the rain and attempting to dodge the worst of the waterlogged potholes – you can’t see how bad they are when they’re full of water. At least I had a tailwind which helped up some of the hills. I was a bit concerned a couple of times that the road was going to be underwater at the bottom of some of the descents, or simply washed away. The streams that had yesterday been small babbling brooks were now raging torrents, angrily rushing down the hills and crashing into the sea. Amazing how the landscape can change so quickly and violently.

Countryside inspiring despite the weather

Rain still coming down on the road to Campbeltown

Is it a road or a river?

I rode up another hill past a field full of bullocks standing stoically in the rain. They spotted me and did their usual trick of following alongside for a bit on the other side of the fence, at quite a pace. Have any other cyclists encountered this phenomenon or is it just me? Maybe I have panniers that are particularly attractive, or offensive, in the bovine world; I don’t want to find out which it is.

I rode around the point and into Campbeltown after about an hours ‘paddling’, thoroughly soaked, past Davaar Island.

Approaching Campbeltown, isle just off the coast

Approaching Campbeltown, Davaar isle just off the coast

Dripping everywhere I stopped in at the Bluebell Cafe and had their breakfast special, which improved matters considerably – bacon, eggs, Lorne sausage, black pudding, beams, potato pancake and toast! Friendly staff, hot food, and a chat with a few other breakfasters all helped, plus I rang my gloves and sleeves out in the bathroom, not for the first time, and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last.

Fry up at Bluebell Cafe improves matters

Post the Bluebell Cafe it was still chucking it down so I adjourned to the Black Sheep Pub around the corner for a decaf coffee, in the vague hope the weather might improve and that I might dry off a bit. Slowly drying, or at least not getting any wetter, I stayed in the pub for about an hour chatting to the barman James, who with the weather as it was didn’t have a lot of tourists to serve. James was about to emigrate to the USA with his American wife, and in fact will be there now so hope it’s going well. It sounded like a pretty exciting lifestyle change, and the weather will certainly be a bit different, although we both reckoned it could be a bit of a culture shock to begin with. To move to the US he’d had to be sponsored by someone, in this case his father-in-law, and had to visit the US embassy to do all the paperwork; sounded like a bit of a trial but sure it’ll be worth it. It was good to relax for a bit and chat post my wild time in the hills, and the rain even stopped about 13.00.

Welcome break at the Black Sheep Pub, Campbeltown

Slightly drier I got back on my bike and left Campbeltown, keen to head back up the peninsula. I took the B842 up the east side, towards Carradale Point, as unfortunately the rain started again which made for pretty unpleasant riding. There was a lot of spray and mud on the road, and I was very glad of my mudguards having passed a couple riders grimly going the other way coated in muck. On a sunny day the scenery would have been great, and even in today’s conditions was impressive…and hilly…there weren’t really any flat bits, and there were lots of chevrons indicating steep sections, marked on my map.

One of several rivers I passed over, all swollen

Sun coming out over another river

Damp sheep, that’ll learn them

At one juncture I passed through a cattle farm and rounding a corner encountered a cow in the road, which had a steep bank on one side and vegetation on the other. It was either stop or run into it, so I ground to a halt as we regarded one another with suspicion. On reflection I think it was probably a bullock and not a cow, and it started frisking about a bit and pawing the ground. At this point of the day I really wasn’t in a retreating mood, and there was certainly no easy way around without backtracking for miles, so I tried to make myself bigger and edge forward, which has worked in the past…they usually back off. A bit of a stand-off ensued however eventually, after some more melodramatics on both of our parts, the bullock backed off into the bushes, leaving me somewhat relieved. I’m really not sure what I’d have done if it had charged or not moved, probably just kept the bike in between me and it, and maybe brandish a lobster in it’s general direction; or climb up a tree quick, which could have been tricky given the rain.

With the sun starting to come out, but it still raining, I rode on through Saddell and up to Carradale, over continuous hills. At least there was no chance of dehydration or overheating, and bananas were keeping me fuelled for the climbs. After Grogdale and Crossaig the rain finally stopped leaving me with just the hills to contend with, but I could deal with them, especially with the wind mostly behind me; mostly aside from when it’s a bit fickle and flows down off the hills swirling about a bit.

I met a group of 3 other cycle tourers at Crossaig, who were out for a weekend’s riding from Kilmarnock and on their way to Arran, intending to take the ferry from Claonaig. They’d set off from Campbeltown earlier only to have a chain break which had to be mended on the roadside. Luckily they’d had the tool for the job and were able to fix it – I was just glad that hadn’t happened to me, yet, however it reinforced the importance of checking your chain regularly and replacing it if it’s stretched too much. It was good to have a chat with fellow tourers, and I felt my spirits raised by the encounter.

With miles left to cover I bid them goodbye and cycled on, drying off a bit in the sunshine, and fervently petitioning the weather gods to keep the rain at bay.

Dry but still threatening

At Claonaig I turned inland and rode over the top to Whitehouse and a familiar road, joining the A83 towards Tarbert. I passed a police radar gun speed trap and asked if I was in the clear after they aimed the device at me. They waved and encouraged me on which was nice.

Tarbert was a welcome and somewhat unexpected sight, being a lovely little harbour town, with lots of yachts moored up, and a yacht club, plus several cafes, pubs, shops and and hotels. I decided to stop for a break and raided my panniers for bread and cheese, and bought some tomatoes from the Co-op, having a nice conversation with an interested seagull and a few passing tourists wondering how far I was going.

Tarbert harbour

Tarbert harbour and swans

Seagull friend, but he only wanted me for my cheese, so a short lived relationship

Tarbert harbour, large motor cruiser

The sun came out properly in Tarbert and I started steaming gently, a bit odd but it made a pleasant change to have water going the other way. Somewhat reluctantly I left the town pedalling up the hill, and being passed by the police from earlier, who reliably informed me I was going very slowly at 7mph, thanks guys.

Blue skies at last

After a few initial ups and downs the road flattened out and I had a nice ride up to Ardrishaig, being able to engage my ‘mile eating’ pace for once, in a high gear with no interruptions. Enjoying the sunshine I stopped for a break at the end of the Crinan Canal, had a wander about and made a couple of phone calls. I walked out to the end of the pier, watching a fisherman cast for mackerel. He didn’t seem to be having much luck, but I spotted 3 gannets diving for fish who were having a better time of it. It was amazing to see them dive, and something I’d wanted to witness for ages.

Ardrishaig – end of Crinan Canal

Crinan Canal

Ardrishaig pier and lighthouse

Pushing on I rode up to Lochgilphead and found the campsite, relieved to see they accepted tents as well as caravans. Whilst I was happy to wild camp again if need be, it was really nice to have the prospect of a warm shower, and to dry some stuff off. Post checking-in I pitched my tent as the midges started to arrive, homing in like heat seeking nano-missiles. I applied Avon Skin so Soft and lit some incense, but neither seemed to make much difference, I just smelt a bit hippyish and my skin was more tender for the midges. I retreated to the shower and spent a while washing away the day’s grime, before arranging a few things to dry and heading into town to explore.

It being a Saturday evening it was fairly lively on the streets of Lochgilphead, with a lot of excitable youngsters out, and I have to admit I kept fairly quiet to avoid attracting attention to my Sassenach accent, although I’m sure it would have been fine.

Lochgilphead – looking down towards Saddell Water

I located the Argyll Arms which looked promising, and spent the evening their amongst a lot of lively locals, many of whom seemed intent on downing as many shots as possible, with varying results. I chatted to quite a few of them, and got a pint bought for me so all good. The jukebox was pumping out some classic rock tunes, as well as a few dodgy numbers that got several groups singing rather discordantly, but it was all entertaining and a friendly atmosphere.

The Argyll Inn

After several pints I retreated back to the campsite, not noticing midges anymore, and funnily enough slept very well post the day’s 60 mile hilly leg. With any luck the weather would be better again tomorrow, for the ride around to Inveraray and beyond.

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Leg 43 – to Kilberry via Melfort and Kilmartin

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Great days ride covering 69 miles, with some tough hills but beautiful scenery.

13 June 2013

It was a bit bit weird waking up in a bed, and I was momentarily confused as to where I was without the familiar tent canvas not far for my head. I’m calling it canvas, but I suppose it’s not really, some kind of synthetic material that I’m very thankful keeps the wind and rain out – Akto working very well so far and I’d be back in it this evening.

I had breakfast downstairs, including several rounds of toast which was delicious, before packing up and heading off. I enjoyed one last shower before leaving, as I knew I had some wild camping coming up and wasn’t sure if I’d have a campsite that evening or not; depended on how far I got.

After dropping off my key at the backpackers plus reception, getting back my £10 deposit, I headed to Nevis Cycles which I’d found yesterday, and had already contacted via their sister shop in Fort William. I dropped my bike in with Darren to get the rear cassette changed, and a few things tightened and tweaked. I needed to get the cassette changed as it was looking pretty worn after so many miles, which was causing the chain to slip about a bit. Darren noticed my rear wheel hub was slightly the wrong size (130mm rather that 135mm), but said it should be fine given the steel frame – a bit of a relief as I really didn’t want to have to buy another new rear wheel so soon.

Leaving my bike in the operating theatre for a bit I walked down to the harbour front and enjoyed a hot chocolate before having another wander about. Thankfully there were no bagpipes this morning, just quite a few interesting shops and nice places to eat – I was half tempted to spend another day in Oban.

Oban harbour front

Oban Harbour

I headed back to Nevis Cycles about 11.30, and had a good chat with Darren who definitely knows his stuff, and gave me a few tips. He’d also replaced a dodgy cable and toed my rear brake in a bit to stop it squealing which was a bit a of a win. We talked about touring for a while, and potential other plans for routes. I’d really recommend to anyone capable, which is most people, to get on your bike and head out into the countryside, whether it be for a few hours or for several months. You see, smell and hear so much more than in a car, as well as meet more fantastic people. It’s also great to stop in at bike shops and have a chat with like minded individuals as you pass through.

Nevis Cycles – Oban

Bidding Oban a fond farewell, or should that be ‘au revoir’ as I intend to return, I pedalled off on the revitalised Ridgeback, up a long hill on the road to Campbeltown, although that was still a long way off. After a few ups an downs on the A816, I turned on to the B844 at Kilninver, and cycled to the Bridge over the Atlantic where I stopped at the Tigh-An-Truish Inn, on Seil Island, for lunch.

Loch Feochan

Loch Feochan 2

Bridge over the Atlantic

I’d been to the Tigh-An-Truish Inn a few years before, with my parents, and wanted to go again despite it being a 10 mile dead end detour. It was well worth it with a great vegetarian lasagne and garlic bread consumed vigorously. Nice to have a chat with the owner and say hello to the pub dog too.

Tigh-An-Truish Inn

Great lasagne

Lobster checking the map

When I left the pub there were a couple of French camper van tourers inspecting my bike, which seems to be a common theme. I had a brief chat with a local who wished me well, liking the fact I was losing track of time and space slightly. May also be losing my sanity at some points too.

The area around the bridge is really pretty, especially in the sunshine, with some lovely flowers and a small anchorage area amongst the surrounding hills. Apparently locals used to change back into their kilts at the bridge and Inn as they crossed back to the island, when kilts where outlawed on the mainland. Another place to come back to at some point.

I rode back up the big hill to the main road from Seil Island, over the bridge, and turned south towards Loch Melfort. I am familiar with the area anyway, having been on holiday with my parents up there a couple of times; they have a lovely timeshare in Melfort Village.

On my way to Melfort

Road twists and turns through mountains and past lochs

Reservoir before Melfort, and dam

After quite a long climb, and a lovely descent through pine forest which smelt gorgeous, I arrived in Kilmelfort and stopped at the general store to buy a few supplies, including bread, chocolate and smoked sausage! I remembered it was father’s day coming up, so bought a card and posted it from the store, which as is the case with a lot of village stores in Scotland doubles as a post office; don’t see that so much in England anymore.

I took a quick detour down the road to Melfort Village, to remind myself what it looked like. I’d forgotten how bumpy the road is though. Passed a lovely garden that I remembered from previous visits.

Melfort garden amongst the pines

I cycled around the village and past the Shower of Herring Inn, which looked like it was still going strong. There was quite a lot of activity in the village, with lawn mowing and gardening going on. I’ve noticed a lot of lawn mowing and strimming as I’ve passed through Scotland, must help keep the midges down a bit.

Melfort Village

Next up I followed the A816 around the coast and up a couple of really big hills, which were thankfully followed by lovely long descents. I arrived in Kilmartin and stopped for a break. The village is at the top of a hill and overlooks a valley where you can see prehistoric cairns. The sun came out and brought everything to life, so was a great view.

View down valley from Kilmartin

I had a look around the medieval church, and carved stones in the graveyard which are worth visiting.

Kilmartin – Medieval carved gravestones

Kilmartin – Medieval carved gravestones 2

I stopped in at the hotel for a pint, and had a chat with the barman who new of a few campsites in the area. I wasn’t sure where I’d stop, but decided to head towards Kilberry. If I didn’t make it that far I could always wild camp somewhere. Also had a chat with a Canadian lady just off the plane, and on a tour of Scotland for a few weeks. She was a bit jet lagged and not quite at home on the roads as yet, but I gave her a few tips on Skye.

Near Kilmartin – Cairns and standing stones abound

Kilmartin must have been an important place for centuries, judging from the number of cairns around, and the medieval artefacts.

Under patchy cloud I rode south, turning on to the B8025 down to the Crinan Canal, which I rode alongside for a bit counting at least 13 lochs. The canal provides a short cut for boats going from one side of the long peninsula to the other, rather than having to go all the way around the Mull of Kintyre. It’s also a very pleasant ride, and there’s a cycle path you can use.

Crinan Canal 1

Crinan Canal 2 – loch gate

Crinan Canal 3

After a nice ride alongside the canal I turned back on to the A816 and cycled past Lochgilphead, somewhere I’d be returning to in a couple of days time, all being well. I passed through Ardrishaig, which was bigger than I expected, before turning on to the B8024 to get to Kilberry.

Lochgilphead

The B8024 road surface is a bit shoddy, to say the least, which made the longest ascent of the day pretty demanding on tired legs and aching wrists. I was keeping my fingers crossed that there was still a campsite in Kilberry, as the barman’s advice from the Kilmartin Hotel was based on 20 year old knowledge. If the worst came to the worst I could wild camp, but it’s nice to get a hot shower. I finally made it up and over the top, passing a loch, before beginning a long and winding descent.

Lonely loch

The road down to the West coast

Forest panorama

Wind farm – I was to see this particular wind farm a lot over the next few days, from lots of different angles

With a South Westerly wind gathering in strength I was keen to get to the campsite sooner rather that later, so I pedalled on past Achaheish feeling a bit chilly despite the sunshine. A group of photogenic highland cattle didn’t look very cold.

Highland cattle

Highland cattle 2

I rode alongside Loch Callisport, which it’s small sandy beaches looking quite inviting. If it had been a bit warmer, actually scratch that a lot warmer, I’d have been tempted to have a swim.

Loch Callisport beaches

Loch Callisport beaches 2

At Ormsary I passed Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs sitting in a garden, a little odd. It was quite a long way around to Kilberry, and I lost track slightly of where I was on the map. I passed the Port Ban campsite thinking I was still some way from the town, so I rode on expecting there to be another site in Kilberry. I reached Kilberry about a mile later, passing a sign to some sculpted stones which I’d visit the following day. With more pressing matters on hand I popped into the village inn to check where the nearest campsite was; it had been the one at Port Ban. So as not to appear impolite I stopped for a beer in the Inn, a brew from Orkney, and chatted to the owner for a bit. It’s more of a restaurant than a pub, and the food smelt delicious. I was sorely tempted to eat there, but it was a little pricey and I had stuff in my panniers anyway, plus I really needed to get to the campsite and get my tent set up.

More blooming flowers

Ominous grey skies off the coast

Coastline near Kilberry

On aching legs I rode back to Port Ban, thankfully not having to contend with any more hills – the bike was beginning to feel very heavy. I arrived at the big site about 21.00, and pitched up post finding the manager Tom who was out running. I bumped into him on the road but declined the invite to join him for a run this instance. The site is good, having it’s own cafe that is open during the day, but was closed when arrived, and wifi around reception. The camping field is right down the far end of the site though, and a long walk for the toilet block, although they’re in the process of building a new toilet block right next to the field. You can pitch your tent right next to the beach which is nice, and have a fire on the beach itself. It being a little late, and a bit windy still, I pitched the Akto further back, and was soon inside it.

Luckily I’d just managed to get all my stuff inside my tent as the heavens opened to a heavy shower, the first serious rain of the day. I felt very cosy in my tent, and it was very peaceful with just a few buzzards circling overhead, and no other campers aside from me this evening. There were no midges around either, it being a little too windy and right next to the sea.

I consumed a dinner of bread, cheese, smoked sausage, yoghurt and fruit, before accidentally accidentally falling asleep for an hour and a half. I think I was more tired than I realised, despite only having done 69 miles; there had been a lot of hills. I’d noticed my rear brake starting to rub a bit so I’d need to adjust that, and check my wheels, but that could it until the morning. I don’t think the bumpy roads, or track down to the campsite, had done anything for my wheel straightness today!

It was quite a chilly evening so I was happy to stay in my tent and get warm in my sleeping bag, mulling over today’s leg, and writing up my journal. I recalled that I’d started to make up my own language, inventing motivational words to utter when powering up hills. Must sound a bit odd if there was anyone around but they help. The air had been lovely and fresh and clean smelling today, and a I felt quite invigorated before falling asleep again, this time until morning.

Empty campsite

View from campsite beach – to Islay and Jura?

Port Ban – View from campsite

Smoked sausage dinner, doesn’t look that appealing but tastes good

Port Ban – nighttime

It would be on to Campbell Town tomorrow, and the Mull of Kintyre, before turning around and heading back up the peninsula. I was half tempted to consider getting the ferry over to Glasgow and cut out some of the convoluted route, but I knew I’d regret it later if I did that. Fingers crossed for good weather.

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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.

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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.

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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

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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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Bike Around Britain

Blog on cycling around the coast of Britain

Tag Archives: countryside

Leg 58 – to Anglesey

Leg 54 – to Flookburgh via Barrow-in-Furness

Leg 52 – to Annan

Leg 50 – to Stranraer

Leg 45 – to Lochgilphead

Leg 43 – to Kilberry via Melfort and Kilmartin

Leg 41 – to Fort William from Mull

Leg 40 – to Tobermory, Calgary and Killiechronan on Mull

Leg 39 – to Kilchoan

Leg 38 – to Arisaig