Tag Archives: Cromarty

Leg 24 – to Dornoch, via Tain

Saw a lot of interesting things today, and weather was brighter! Bit of a long post.

24 May 2013

A cold morning but brighter. Feeling famished I dived into a breakfast of pitta bread, cheese, bananas, flapjack and berocca substitute, realising I probably hadn’t eaten enough yesterday. It’s hard to take on board the required calories for this sort of day in day out riding sometimes. I spent breakfast mulling over a strange dream I’d had about recovering diamonds stolen by Nazis during the Second World War, and getting a reward for them when I returned them to their descendants via a contact of a friend, all a bit strange. I blame Lucy’s sisters blog which I’d read the day before and mentioned Nazis.

I packed up as the sun started to come out, a bit late to dry the two pairs of socks I’d washed last night, or my still damp towel. It had been too wet and cold to get anything dry of late, however I attached the socks to my cargo net to hopefully dry as I went along. Campsites rarely have drying rooms, and your stuffed wild camping anyway. My tent was also still damp and I wondered, not for the first time, if I’d not be better off just using a bivvy bag – on reflection I think a tent is better though.

With the Ridgeback loaded I gave it the once over. Everything checked out fine, despite it being a little more battered and grimy than when I first started, and with a few bits of gaffer and wire in places including holding together the front right pannier rack; I just call that a custom job.

I wasn’t sure how far I’d get today, so I loaded up on pies and doughnuts at a bakery in Dingwall for lunch, on the way out. There were 3 bakeries to choose from, that I sa. I chose Deas where my purchases came to about 5 pounds, a bargain. Scotland seems to have more bakeries that England, which have fuelled my progress around the coast pretty well to date; cheap, tasty, lots of carbs, and always have a nice chat with the staff. I need to find more black pudding and haggis though.

Dingwall high street

Dingwall high street 


Dingwall Wimpy, unfortunately closed

Dingwall Wimpy, unfortunately closed

Post a second breakfast of a cheeky croissant from the same bakery, I pedalled to Alness. You can follow Route 1 and avoid the A9, but I stuck to the coast road which was a little busy. I hadn’t looked up where Route 1 went, and had been led astray by it before, or it had turned out to be really bumpy, so I generally left it alone today aside from where our paths converged on roads.

From Alness I rode to Invergordon, once site of of the main British Naval base in the early 20th century back when Winston Churchill was first sea lord. The base got moved further north to Scapa Flow, when it was realised it was in range of bombers from Europe. The fleet sailed from here for the Battle of Jutland in the First World War, the one great sea battle of that war. There was a submarine boon/net across the entrance to the Cromarty Firth back then. A German Sub once tried to sneak in under a British warship, and nearly made it; they had trouble raising the boon afterwards and found a big bit of the net missing. Also found a plaque commemorating the lives lost on HMS Natal, mentioned in yesterday’s post.

Invergordon Rigs

Invergordon Rigs


The sun dismissed the last of the clouds in Invergordon, and I took off a layer, still leaving two on not including the bib; it still wasn’t warm. There was a big cruise ship moored up, I guess where the old naval docks used to be, the MSC Magnifica haling from Panama, although every one I saw going back to it appeared to be German. Apparently quite a few cruise ships stop here, it being a deep water birth.

Invergordon - Magnifica

During the break I tried to phone Garmin again. I’ve been trying to get through to them for a few days but it’s impossible. You just end up with the message saying all their lines are extremely busy at the moment, and to check their website. I’ve already checked their website, and emailed them, to which I got a reply suggesting I call them. I think I need a replacement unit as this one is clearly bust, I can’t even perform the hard reset suggested. Think I’ll try calling them a few more times then email them if that doesn’t work. I hope my phone isn’t being charged for being on hold, could be expensive and will result in a complaint. Still feel better off with just a map though.

I pedalled on up the firth through Barbaraville, where I started singing the beach boys song Barbara-Anne, then down around the point to Nigg, to the shoreline opposite Cromarty. It was a bit of a long ride but worth it and followed my sticking to the coast plan. There used to be a ferry that ran from here but not sure if it still does, couldn’t see one, much better weather today though!

Cromarty Firth in sunshine

Cromarty Firth in sunshine

 

Cromarty on opposite shore

Cromarty on opposite shore


I could see where I’d been the day before, in much worse weather, I waved. Amazing how quickly the weather can change.

Cromarty Firth panorama

Cromarty Firth panorama


 

Me and lobster in Cromarty Firth

Me and lobster in Cromarty Firth

At this point I consumed the lunch I’d bought earlier; curry pie, pizza slice, Bridie (like a pasty but with different pastry) and a toffee doughnut, nice. Re-energised I rode on to Balintore and Shandwick Bay, on the Pictish Trail apparently. The Picts, descended from the ancient Celts that once lived across most of Europe, used to live in the area, and there’s a standing stone covered with their carvings just outside Balintore. It’s got a mixture of Christian symbols and Pictish artwork on it, carved in the 7th or 8th century, and pretty impressive.

Pictish stone

Pictish stone with carvings

This got me thinking about the Picts, about whom I know relatively little. I wondered what happened to them, did they all die out or get absorbed by other nations and cultures, the Vikings for example? Apparently not a lot is generally known about them, aside from their stone carvings and silverware which still survives. They’re also mentioned in writings from the same period, from other countries. I don’t think they wrote anything down themselves, probably using a tradition of oral history like the Australian aborigines. I expect their genes are mixed in with everyone else’s, Britain being a mixing pot of people from all over the place, so no doubt they still have descendants around today, even if those descendants don’t realise it.

Balintore looked lovely in the sunshine, and I could have easily whiled away a couple of hours down by the harbour, however I decided I couldn’t dawdle with more miles to cover today.

Balintore

Balintore Harbour


 

Looking down on Shandwick Bay

Looking down on Shandwick Bay

Post adjusting my rear mudguard which has a habit of slipping and rubbing the tyre slightly, I pedalled on to the other end of the peninsula. My pedals have started to squeak sometimes which is getting annoying, so I’m going to have to address it before they drive me to distraction. I arrived in a Portmahomack in the sunshine, which was persisting throughout the day, and cycled through the village. There’s a visitor centre there too which would be good to visit sometime if they have more stuff on the Picts.

Portmahomack

Portmahomack 


 

Random Alpacca

Random Alpacca

There were three Apaccas. They regarded me with some suspicion.

I rode on to Tain, where I stopped at the Duthus Inn (great name) for a pint of cider, it being a warm day. There were quite a few motorbike tourers pausing there too, so had a quick chat. I noticed I’d got singed a bit – forgot to put on sun cream! My face might be a bit stripy due to the cycling helmet and sunglasses.

Tain

Tain


I decided I had enough time to tackle the Dornoch Firth, it only just coming up to 17.00 when I left Tain. I knew there was a campsite in Dornoch itself on the coast. Passed a couple of distilleries including the Glenmorangie distillery, which apparently isn’t pronounced quite how we all pronounce it.

The ride around the firth was really great, spectacular scenery and sunshine, and not much traffic. I rode along the gently undulating road to Bonar Bridge, through more heathland and verdant forest – pine and Beech; think Beech woodland is my favourite, especially if it includes Copper Beech.

Road to Bonar Bridge

Road to Bonar Bridge


Dornoch Firth countryside 1

Dornoch Firth countryside 1


Dornoch Firth countryside 2

Dornoch Firth countryside 2


Dornoch Firth countryside 3

Dornoch Firth countryside 3

 

Dornoch Firth

Dornoch Firth

 

Bonar Bridge

Bonar Bridge


I passed quite a few other cyclists and tourers going the other way, and got passed by a couple of groups on sleek carbon fibre road bikes on their way to John O’ Groats judging from their outfits. They didn’t have panniers or tents, lightweights I thought ;-). Good to see other cyclists out though, probably the weather and it being a bank holiday weekend,  which I’d forgotten about. Can’t quite believe it looks like we’ll have had two good bank holiday weekends weather wise in May, must be a record, even if some of the rest of May has been dubious at times.

The ride up the north side of the Dornoch Firth was again beautiful, through a more forested landscape, though more hills to tackle. On tired legs this meant jelly baby consumption, however I made it all the way along without stopping so my legs must be getting stronger. I joined up with the A9 for a short section, going back to the bridge across the firth near Tain which I’d ignored earlier. I then cut North East up a side road that lead to Dornoch, a lovely looking town with a few shops, pubs and hotels, and main square with historic marketplace (photos tomorrow). Think this is where the Sutherlands were centred. I stopped to buy a few bits and pieces, including a multi pack of crisps – proceeded to eat about 4 bags I was so hungry by this stage.

I got to the campsite and pitched up about 19.00. Nice site right next to the beach, cost £7.00. Bloke said it was the cheaper of the two in the area so a bonus. I proceeded to cook up the traditional pasta feast, but might have overdone the Tabasco slightly; bit of an inferno but there was none left after only a short time. Finished off with a banana, an apple, more cheese, ginger nuts and a Pepperami I’d forgotten I had for good measure.

All in all a great day, covering 85 miles in predominantly sunshine, even if there’s still a chill in the air and snow on the mountain tops. The only slight annoyance is trying o get through to Garmin, they need to get more staff or stop issuing faulty badges of devices, something they apparently have a history of doing.

Onwards to John O’ Groats!

Durnoch campsite

Durnoch campsite – following morning

Leg 23 – to Dingwall via Black Isle

A good leg at 76 miles.

23 May 2013

I hadn’t been disturbed or nibbled my monsters overnight, although I did wake up with a lobster on my head; that happens sometimes. Somewhat reluctantly I climbed out of my warm sleeping bag and tent, into a very cold, grey and wet morning. I half expected to see Nessie come looming out of the mists as I ate breakfast, whilst shuffling about to keep warm. Must be the cold air flowing down from the surrounding mountains that makes it extra chilly.

I packed up quick, including my wet tent which slightly numbed my hands, before loading the bike and pedalling back to Dores.

Loch Ness wild camp

Loch Ness wild camp site, a wet and cold morning

 

Mist on Loch Ness

Mist on Loch Ness – or was it just low cloud and rain really

From Dores I headed quickly back towards Inverness, wanting to get out of the wet and hoping it was better near the coast; it was, but not before my head and hands started hurting it was so cold cycling, that’s British summertime for you. It stopped raining as I left the vicinity of the loch, and a couple of hills warmed me up a treat. I paused at a supermarket just outside Inverness to restock with a few bits and pieces, and bought a hot sausage, bacon and cheese roll whilst I was there; very welcome second breakfast. A lot of food seems to come with cheese in Scotland, or you have the option to add cheese. I’m not complaining as I need the carbs on this trip, but can’t help but think it’s not a great thing for the majority of people not cycling over 50 miles a day.

After a couple of wrong turns in Inverness I made my way down the Beauly Firth, through the occasional shower but with the sun coming out. I seem to be getting used to the weather now, which probably means it’ll change again, hopefully for the better. I decided I’d try and put in some good miles today, wanting to get back into the swing of things after a few short days recently. It would be good to get around Black Isle and down to Dingwall, depending on hills and weather.

Inverness - Kessock Bridge in background

Inverness – Kessock Bridge in background

 

Snow on the mountains on the way to Beauly

Snow on the mountains on the way to Beauly

I cycled west through Kirkhill and on to Beauly, where I stopped to look at the old priory, built in the 13th century.

Beauly Priory

Beauly Priory

Beauly means beautiful place, from the French beau lieu. The priory was founded by French monks from the Valliscaulian order in 1230, who gave the town it’s name. Bit of an obscure Order by the sounds of it, this being only one of three British bases outside of France, all of which are in Scotland. Quite a strict group of monks, only the Abbot being allowed contact with the outside world, but they were still pretty rich and influential, from fishing etc. It later converted to the Cistercian Order, when the Valliscaulian Order was disbanded by the Pope – maybe it became too rick and influential. In ruins now, having been abandoned in the 16th century.

From Beauly I cycled on to Muir-of-Ord, looking suspiciously at the snow on the surrounding mountain tops. I’ll cycle in most conditions but draw the line at snow, which isn’t good on a loaded touring bike. I fell off in snow once and it left a big dent in my helmet, I’ve always worn a helmet ever since, whatever the conditions.

I turned east to Black Isle, following the other side of the Beauly Firth which mostly ran right next to the water’s edge all the way to Charlestown, where I could see the bridge over to Inverness which I’d ignored earlier – can’t take any shortcuts! There were traffic jams on it which left me feeling slightly smug.

Beauly Firth - looking West

Beauly Firth – looking West


Beauly Firth and Kessock Bridge

Beauly Firth and Kessock Bridge


I pedalled on to Munlochy, up and down a big hill, then had to hide in a bus shelter for a bit as a hail storm passed over. I’d been caught out in the open earlier during a hail storm, and it doesn’t half sting when it hits you on your face and especially nose and ears. It makes quite a racket pinging off your cycling helmet too!

Continuing on I passed through Avoch, Fortrose and Rosemarkie, where I could clearly see Fort George across the Moray Firth, looking imposing; you can see why it was built there, giving it a commanding presence over the area and shipping lane.

Fort George across the Firth

Fort George across the Firth

A stormy looking sky

A stormy looking sky

Munlochy Bay

Munlochy Bay

Sun came out sometimes

Sun came out sometimes, revealing stunning coastline


I had a really long ascent from Rosemarkie, lasting for about 2 miles and quite steep in places, so was relieved to get over the top and down into Cromarty. I’d used the minor road which was nice and quiet, passing through farmland and forest, and mostly sheltered from the wind and rain.

Cromarty, which I think is a great name for a town, was also the birthplace of the famous Scottish writer and geologist Hugh Miller (look him up). I was getting blasted by wind and rain so decided to retreat to the Cromarty Arms for a large plate of scampi and chips, a very welcome break.

Me in bad weather mode

Me in bad weather mode in Cromarty

Entrance to Cromarty Firth

Entrance to Cromarty Firth – there used to be an anti submarine boon/net across it


Post refuelling I ploughed on down the Cromarty Firth, seeing rigs out in the bay, along with lots of seabirds. I passed through Jemimaville and Balblair, before a long stretch down a straight bit into a leg draining headwind, at least it was less hilly, and the sun kept making an occasional appearance.

Cromarty Firth, Dingwall bound

Cromarty Firth, Dingwall bound

Cromarty Firth, rigs

Cromarty Firth, rigs

Cromarty Firth, A9 bridge

Cromarty Firth, A9 bridge


I passed a few nature reserves (RSPB), and a sign telling me about HMS Natal, which blew up whilst moored in the Firth in 1915, killing over 400 people including visiting women and children. The sign said it was caused by a stray cigarette in the shell room, but who knows for sure. The explosion shattered glass in Cromarty and rattled windows in Fortrose.

The Cromarty Firth had several ships and rigs in it today, but was nowhere near as busy as it once would have been, being the UK’s primary naval port at one point. I don’t know if the rigs are built here and towed out to sea, or are being dismantled, or just in for maintenance. It would have been a different scene in the First World War, with masses of Naval ships moored up or on their way in or out. There are more seabirds these days, with the aforementioned Oystercatchers in abundance, along with Scaups which apparently eat cockles and mussels whole, crushing them in their stomachs! That’s a pretty strong constitution. Oystercatchers are a very familiar sight so far in Scotland, with their familiar call which is quite piercing.

I rode on to Dingwall, and camped up at the Caravan and Camping Club site, next to the football stadium. The builders were in at the stadium, and a little bit noisy finishing late and starting early, but I found a quiet spot and had a welcome warm shower. The shower was especially welcome after the previous night’s wild camp and a cold day.

Had a relatively quiet evening, with a quick pint at the Mallard pub as it was close, where I wrote up my journal. One thought from today; I sometimes feel like a ship’s lookout whilst cycling, on the alert of icebergs, accept it’s potholes instead. There were quite a few vicious ones today, a few of which I hit but bike seems okay, even if I slightly smarted from the experience. I tend to miss them when I get tired.

Good leg at 76 miles, onwards to Dornoch Firth tomorrow, which is hopefully the last Firth for a while!