Tag Archives: cycle

Leg 39 – to Kilchoan

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

Edited with BlogPad Pro

Leg 38 – to Arisaig

6 Replies

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

08 June 2013

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

Packing up – quick wheel check

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

Beautiful day in Uig

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

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

Looking back down towards Uig

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

Road around the North of Skye

Staffin Bay

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

Storr Mountain and Old Man of Storr

Still clouds hanging over the lochs

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

Portree Bay

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

Looking own on Portree old town

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

The road to Sligachan

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

Lobster sun bathing in Sligachan – Cuillin Hills in background

Cuillin Hills again

Loch Ainot

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

Down to the Sound of Sleat

Sound of Sleat coastline

View across to Armadale

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

View to Seal Bay from woodland campsite

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

Armadale harbour

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

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

Looking back to Armadale

Ferry to Mallaig – sun still shining

Across to Mallaig we go

Arriving in Mallaig

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

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

Road to Arisaig 1

Road to Arisaig 2

Road to Arisaig 3

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

Coastline down to Arisaig

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

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

Camping spot at Silver Sands

Camping spot at Silver Sands 2

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

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

Lobster at sunset

Sunset panorama

Sunset 1

Sunset 2

Sunset 3

Sunset 4

I have far too many pictures of his sunset.

Sun just about gone

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

Edited with BlogPad Pro

Day 38 – rest day in Uig

2 Replies

Total distance cycled= 0 miles 🙂

07 June 2013

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

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

Uig – nice day for a day off

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

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

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

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

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

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

Uig pier – clouds rolling over hill again

Uig pier 2

Uig pier 3 – bollards

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

Edited with BlogPad Pro

Leg 37 – to Uig

1 Reply

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

Slightly slower day covering 47 miles.

06 June 2013

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

A few facts about Skye:

– It’s the largest of the Inner Hebrides

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

– It has some big hills called the Cuillens on it

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

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

– There are lots of whisky distilleries

– Quite a lot of the residents speak Gaelic

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

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

Beautiful day on Skye

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

Skye looking good, with Raasay off the coast

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

One of the Cuillins

View of Cuillins from Sligachan

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

Posing Highland Cattle

This one reminded me of Ludo from Labyrinth

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

Road to Portree – through Glen Varragill

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

Bluebell meadow

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

Entrance to Portree Bay

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

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

Portree High Street

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

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

Looking down on Uig harbour

Uig

Uig panorama

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

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

Uig campsite – clouds rolling in over hills

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

Bakur Bar view 1

Bakur Bar view 2

Bakur Bar view 3

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

Leg 36 – to Skye via Bealach-Na-Ba

4 Replies

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

05 June 2013

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

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

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

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

About to leave Applecross, great weather

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

Going up Bealach-Na-Ba – ominous clouds gathering

Bealach-Na-Ba – ascent looking back towards Applecross

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

Bealach-Na-Ba – panorama of ascent

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

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

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

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

Bealach-Na-Ba – view from the top 1

Bealach-Na-Ba – view from the top 2

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

The top of Beinn Bhan

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

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

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

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

Bealach-Na-Ba – about to start the descent

Bealach-Na-Ba – hairpins

Bealach-Na-Ba – impressive cliffs

Bealach-Na-Ba – looking back up

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

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

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

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

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

Road alongside Loch Carron

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

Loch Carron

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

Road to Plocton 1

Road to Plocton 2

Road to Plocton 3

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

Plocton – castle across the bay

Plocton panorama

Plocton front

Plocton front 2

Plocton panorama 2

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

Skye Bridge 1

Skye Bridge 2

Skye Bridge 3

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

Ashaig Campsite

Ashaig Campsite 2

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

Edited with BlogPad Pro

Leg 35 – to Applecross

7 Replies

04 June 2013

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

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

Nice view in the morning across Loch Gairloch

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

The Mountain Cafe – Gairloch

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

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

Loch Gairloch with Gairloch on the right

Gairloch Village

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

Harbour at Charlestown

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

Loch Maree

Loch Maree 2

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

Beinn Eighe National Park

Beinn Eighe National Park and Loch Maree

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

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

Ride down Glen Torridon

Ride down Glen Torridon – Beinn Eighe mountains

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

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

View of Upper Loch Torridon, from Torridon

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

Shieldaig village

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

Shieldaig Bar

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

Looking back to Shieldaig

Another small inlet on the way to Ardheslaig

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

View across Inner Sound towards Skye

Another great view

Sand dune running up to cliff

Applecross Bay 1 – cool clouds

Applecross Bay 2 – sunshine extraordinaire

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

Applecross

Applecross panorama

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

Me looking pretty hot – sweaty that is

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

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

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

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

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

Edited with BlogPad Pro

Leg 34 – to Gairloch and the Big Sands Campsite

2 Replies

A 59 mile stint, despite a late start.

03 June 2013

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

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

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

The ferry I just missing, leaving it's berth

The ferry I just missed, leaving it’s berth

Rowing skiff out practicing in the bay

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

Looking out along Loch Broom towards the Hebs

Bike post restocking at supermarket – banana and baguette accessories

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

Ferry Boat Inn – sausage bap

View from Ullapool across Loch Broom

The Ferry Boat Inn

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

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

Riding up towards Corrieshalloch Gorge – bigger trees but weather deteriorating

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

Road bridge over the Gorge, before reaching the falls

Falls of Messach – Victorian suspension bridge

Corrieshalloch Gorge

Falls of Messach – looking down on them from suspension bridge

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

View back towards Ullapool

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

Road over the top – snow on mountains

Low cloud and rain ahead, was going to get wet

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

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

The descent to Dundonnell

Rhododendrons

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

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

Gruinard Bay and Island

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

Road around to Laide

Passing over more mountain streams

Deserted beaches

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

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

Aultbea

Poolewe

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

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

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

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

Big Sand and Loch Gairloch

Dunes covered in Marram Grass

View back to campsite and my tent

Beautiful view across loch towards mountains of Skye

Low tide at Loch Gairloch

Waves gently lapping on the shore

Pebbles at Big Sand

Cairn to mark the spot for Lu

With seaweed attachment for artistic purposes

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

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

Sun going down at campsite

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

Sunset at Big Sand 2

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

Edited with BlogPad Pro

Leg 33 – to Ullapool

1 Reply

Getting to grips with these hills now, or so I thought. Check out the route here and the elevation changes – http://connect.garmin.com/course/3779409

02 June 2013

Ferreting around in my panniers I realised I needed to buy more breakfast stuff, but it was Sunday and all the shops were closed in Scourie; I keep forgetting most shops close in Scotland on Sundays, or are only open for a couple of hours, but I kind of like that. Luckily I still had some cheese and flapjack left which was more than adequate and set me up nicely for a morning’s pedalling.

Beautiful day in Scourie

Feeling a lot more buoyant than yesterday I gave the bike the once over, and finding no further faults I hit the road about 10.00. I knew today was going to be a tough day, with some big hills on the coast road, but also some fantastic scenery which would hopefully help distract from the leg pain and straining lungs.

Up for the days ride, albeit with spikey hair

From Scourie I rode down the A894 to Unapool, accompanied along the way by the sound of cuckoos. I think there must have been some kind of cuckoo-off going on. I’ve never heard as many cuckoos as I have on the West coast of Scotland, where they are certainly not rare. It was nice riding along more forested roads (Duartmore Forest) of pine and birch, especially in the sunshine which brought everything to life.

Moving towards mountains I’d be passing a bit later

Just before Unapool I passed out of Mackay country and over a large bridge between two lochs.

Bridge leaving Mackay country

I stopped in Unapool for a break at a roadside cafe/gift shop where I had a pot of peppermint tea and a fruit scone, very civilised. Chatted to a couple of other touring cyclists on their way North, as well as the elderly owner; the latter spoke rather quickly and a lot, so much so it was hard to get a word in edge ways, but she was lovely and we agreed that the roadworks in Inverness were challenging. I think we agreed that anyway.

Post Unapool I turned right on to the B869, where the hills really started, and judging from the little chevrons on the map they were going to persist. Still, at least there was no headwind to speak of so all good in my books. I have a theory that the terrain and hills in particular are honest, even if they are haggis humping humongous hills, whilst the weather is dishonest, the wind changing direction all the time and more often than being in your face. The weather in Scotland can also change quickly, in the mornings being all sunshine and smiles, but by the afternoon the clouds have rolled in bringing the rain and a chill.

After a feisty 8 or 9 miles I arrived in Drumbeg, having ridden over some fairly dramatic hills that even the touring motorbikes were straining on. I was glad I cycled down the 25% hill.

25% hill! Glad I was going down this

Coastline pretty stunning in places

Challenging climbs included in the package

Hidden harbours

Pigs on the road warning – sign may be one of a kind

Could almost be the Med coast at times – but too green

I stopped in Drumbeg at a tea shop that doubled as a pottery and soap shop. It smelt lovely and I realised I probably didn’t. I chilled out in the tiny but completely sheltered garden for 20 mins, enjoying a hot chocolate and slice of carrot and passion fruit cake – got to keep the carb loading going. The garden, scented by the lavender bushes, was tranquil and warm, and I could have sat there for ages reading a book, or playing with the cat that turned up expectantly. If felt like summer had finally arrived in that garden, after the cold weather of previous weeks, with bees busy buzzing around the flowers.

Drumbeg hot chocolate stop – lovely garden

Dragging myself away from the garden I rode through the rest of the village, stopping at the general store/deli to buy a baguette, some Crowdie soft cheese, and a packet of dried bananas for emergency energy boosts. Post eating the whole baguette and most of the cheese I rode on, stopping at the viewpoint where I briefly chatted to a couple touring by car; I’d see them several more times during the day.

Drumbeg viewpoint

I rode on past Oldany Island to Stoer, with the worst of the hills done, then around to Clachtoll, past numerous sandy beaches, inland lochs and sheep. The terrain was by no means flat, but at least I didn’t have any more 15% or 20% leg breaking hills to pedal up in the immediate future, or so I hoped. This was truly the hilliest leg I’d done to date. Coupled with that there were sheep and lambs strewn across the road at times, often just lying there enjoying the sunshine, and frequently nearly causing accidents. Despite shouting at them long before I got close they often refused to move until the last minute, and then were completely random in the direction they’d choose. “Stupid animals” I thought, not for the first time.

Deserted sandy beaches – probably surfable in bigger swells

I stopped around Rhicarn at the viewpoint to check on my spokes, and for a break. A couple more spokes needed tightening, confirming my theory this was going to be a bit of a constant job. I was going to have to be careful not to over-tighten them though, and screw the wheel. It looked like it was likely to buckle anyway and I’d need to find a bike shop and a replace it at some point; it’s too lightweight for touring. There were a couple of German cycle tourers at the viewpoint who I had a brief conversation with, although their English was limited and my German worse. They had trailers which I admired them for, heading as they were the other way towards the hills I’d struggled up earlier. They waved me off and I wished them good luck.

Rhicarn viewpoint

I careered down from the viewpoint waving to a group of cyclists pedalling up it from the other direction, that I thought I recognised from some other stop on the tour. They seemed to recognise me anyway saying “hello again” from their sleek and unloaded road bikes, although I noted that they were struggling slightly up the hill; the disadvantage of only using your bike for short day trips and transporting it around on the back of your camper van the rest of the time, less stamina. It was a nice ride down to Lochinver along the windy road, through patches of trees and moorland. As I was riding alongside the harbour I heard a car horn beep and waved to the couple who I’d been running into all day again, think they might have been stalking me.

Lochinver

Despite there being a few attractive looking eateries in Lochinver I pressed on, still having quite a distance to ride to Ullapool. The hills started again as I pedalled over to Inverkerkaig, with its wide shingle bay. I stopped to admire the view and eat some Tangfastics to get some energy back – still slightly addicted! Had to tighten yet another spoke too.

Inverkerkaig – Tangfastics break

The one track minor roads continued, complete with oblivious sheep, as I rode through lots of scrubby silver birch, past lochs and alongside mountain streams carving their way through the landscape. It felt like a remote and wild location to be cycling through, and I was slightly nervous my rear wheel was going to break leaving me stranded and having to walk out. There were a few people out wild camping with their kayaks so I could have just hooked up with them for the evening, and probably had a great time, however the wheel continued to hold out.

Riding past mountain streams

And mountain moorland with gorse in bloom

A one point a small herd of red deer ran out in front of me, crossing the road and leaping the fence on the other side. I think we startled each other and they soon disappeared up the mountain. Passing close to Lock Sionasgaig, and up another big ascent, I then free wheeled down to Loch Bad a’ Ghaill, where I turned left back towards the main road that would take me to Ullapool. I was tempted to turn right and go up to Rubha Mor and Reiff, with the Summer Isles off the coast, but it was effectively a dead end, and whilst wild camping would have been great up there I was still worried about the bike. I’d probably get to see the Summer Isles from the ferry to the Outer Hebrides if I decided to go that way, depending on time available.

I pedalled alongside the loch, under the looming presence of the Stac Pollaidh mountain, stopping at Loch Lurgainn for another Haribos break where I chatted to a couple visiting from Lanarkshire. He was thinking of climbing Stac Pollaidh, which he’d painted a few years back, and we spoke for a while about places visited and still to see. You meet some great people on the road.

Stac Pollaidh

There were a few people wild camping alongside the loch again, with small campfires and the enticing smell of barbecues. It looks like a great spot to spend the night. It’s such a shame you can’t legally wild camp in England, but I guess it would result in parts of the countryside being ruined by irresponsible individuals; mind you such individuals shouldn’t spoil it for everyone else. England should have the same right to roam rules as Scotland.

Loch Lurgainn

Loch Lurgainn and Stac Pollaidh

With my sights set on Ullapool I pedalled on, turning right on to the A835. On tired legs I rode down to Ardmair, and then on to Ullapool, with a couple of large hills that nearly finished me off. I’d have climbed them easily earlier in the day, but both my bike and I were creaking by this point, and you can only go so far on Haribos.

Coast off Ardmair

The final descent down into Ullapool was a welcome sight, and I gently free wheeled down resting my limbs. I passed a really helpful sign at the bottom of the hill, which in my tied state started me giggling. It wasn’t going to help me find the campsite but a considerate passerby pointed me in the right direction, obviously slightly concerned at my apparent hysteria.

Helpful sign

I arrived at the Broomfields campsite, where reception was closed but I’d settle up in the morning. They’re often closed by the time I arrive. It’s another nice campsite with views out over the bay, and was quite busy, I guess because of the ferry over to Stornaway.

After setting up my tent I checked my bike and noticed another loose spoke, where the nipple had disappeared inside the rim. After a small amount of cursing I made the strategic decision to mend it the morning, requiring food above anything else right at that moment. I had a wander round Ullapool, along the seafront, where there are several pubs and restaurants to choose from. I ended up at the Seaforth Inn as it was the most convenient and looked busy, always a good sign. It was also boasting award winning seafood. I had the soup followed by smoked haddock and black pudding risotto, which was delicious. I felt slightly guilty for not cooking again, I dare say I could of but felt knackered, and with such fine cuisine and ale nearby couldn’t resist. I was briefly joined at my table by a couple of students studying geology up here – good place for it. We chatted for a bit, them ordering the cheap but tasty burger option – student budget and all that.

Smoked haddock and black pudding risotto at the Seaforth Inn

Post dinner I adjourned to the Arch Inn to write up my journal, plus I really had to get a blog update done and needed to find a wifi outlet to transfer the photos from my phone to my iPad. The Arch Inn was fairly lively, showing the England versus Brazil game which I think ended up a draw, a decent result. I was somewhat distracted having bumped into a group of Irish gentlemen, out hill walking from Dublin for a few days. Whisky ensued.

Somewhat unsteadily I made it back to my tent after a challenging but great day’s ride. I was satisfied I’d made it up all those hills without having to push, and covered around 65 miles, but annoyed about my back wheel. I’d check it in the morning and then make a decision about the Outer Hebrides.

Night sky in Ullapool – still not really dark at midnight

Edited with BlogPad Pro

Leg 32 – to Scourie

4 Replies

The journey South begins.

01 June 2013

I had one of the best nights sleep of the tour so far at Cape Wrath, whether that be down to the peaceful location or really spongy grass I had as a mattress I’m not sure, probably a combination of both. I’d got up once to photograph the lighthouse in operation; no shipwrecks to report so looks like it was working. There were still deer around, grazing on the lush grass around the lighthouse.

Cape Wrath lighthouse by night

Steep cliffs next Lighthouse

I was up early as I wanted to make sure I made the 09.30 ferry, although I suspected it might be a bit later today because of the tides. Not wanting to risk it I was packed up and on the road/bumpy track by 7.30, allowing enough time to deal with any punctures picked up en-route. This was after settling up with John and buying one of the Ozone Cafe/Cape Wrath t-shirts – my first sourvenir of the tour. Big thanks to John and the Ozone Cafe for the excellent hospitality and very tasty salmon dinner, and look forward to a return visit some day. Also bid adieu to the enthusiastic Spirnger Spaniel patrol.

Leaving Cape Wrath

I rode back down the track to the ferry contemplating what it must be like living a the Cape permanently. Reckon it must be a hard life but rewarding. There’s no mains electricity or water, no mobile reception, although there is a landline. Despite the lack thereof I can see the attractiveness of being cut off from all the crap the rest of us encounter via the media etc, living slightly more on the edge, but in a beautiful spot.

Passing the track down to the bothy I hoped Iain and Angus had had a good night too, and had a safe kayak today – http://www.coldwetwater.blogspot.co.uk Good luck around the rest of the Scottish coast.

Back through moorland to the ferry

Bridge over rocky stream

Wild landscape around the Cape

One of the better road sections down to a farmstead

Panoramic view of sandy kyle

I made it in good time back to the slipway to wait for the ferry, without any punctures, but with three completely loose spokes I had to tighten. The combination of a bumpy road, heavy bike, and a back wheel not really built for a touring bike had obviously take its toll, and was something I was going to have to keep an eye on. I was very glad I’d packed a spoke tightener, but will have to be careful not to over-tighten.

Whilst waiting I had a second breakfast of flapjack and contemplated putting a brew on, but then saw the ferryman arrive on the other side of the kyle and start loading today’s visitors into his boat. The ferry duly arrived bringing a full minibus load, and several cyclists on three separate trips, so John was in for a busy day at the Ozone Cafe. I bid good morning to everyone, extolling the virtues of the Cape, before they trundled off and I lifted my panniers and bike on-board the boat, the only passenger heading back this morning.

I chatted to John the ferryman on the trip across, who said the tide was only just high enough to allow easy access to the pier for my bike on the other side. I was glad I wasn’t going to have to wade ashore! John ferries visitors back and forth most days, with his dog on the prow. The weather can change very quickly around Durness, and if it looks like it could turn John either won’t run the ferry, or gives people fair warning that they might get stuck on the Cape. It’s happened a few times – people cross at their own risk and sometimes get stuck there for the night. John confirmed that there are Golden Eagles in the area, but I hadn’t seen any unfortunately.

Bidding the Cape a final goodbye, I reattached my panniers and cycled off down the A838, travelling south for the first time on the mainland in ages, which felt a bit strange. Of course I had a headwind, but it was fairly mild, and I was soon distracted by a long hill climb. It felt like quite a long stretch to Rhiconich, past the odd loch, and between mountains.

Road to Rhiconich – fairly bleak landscape

Road to Rhiconich – mountains abounding

There were some handy public toilets in Rhiconich, which came as a welcome relief – they’re right next to a rather remote and lonely looking police station. Post toilet break I turned right, wanting to head up towards Sandwood Bay a bit, although I didn’t think I’d make it all the way up there – it’s a dead end and I wasn’t sure about the state of the roads/tracks anyway.

I rode up the road alongside Loch Inchard to Kinlochbervie, passing through villages with names I had trouble pronouncing such as Achriesgill and Inshegra, although Badcall was easier. Most of the information notices, signs and town names are in Gaelic as well as English. I haven’t heard any Gaelic spoken yet but I’m sure some locals mix in a bit with some of their sentences to confuse me sometimes.

Narrow entrance to Kinlochbervie harbour

Kinlochbervie harbour

Kinlochbervie is a small town built up around the harbour which has an active fishing community by the looks of it. I’d passed what looked like a few salmon farms on the way up the loch, at least I think that’s what they were. Could be wrong as they might have just been channel markers in this instance. A largish fishing boat was just returning to port with its catch, which was duly unloaded and packed in ice. I was passed a bit later by fairly fishy lorries transporting the catch off elsewhere, no doubt to restaurants and factories.

I had lunch at the hotel in Kinlochbervie, wanting to get out of the weather for a bit which was turning showery and windier. Great cheeseburger and chips, followed by a chocolate brownie sundae just to keep the carbs topped up. Taking advantage of the free wifi I also had a quick FaceTime call with my Dad which was nice. Mum was out somewhere but I’d no doubt catch up with her later.

Shoreline in Kinlochbervie

Fishing farms or channel markers? Or nets? Thinking channel markers.

Clouds closing in still

Post an email catchup the weather had improved somewhat, so I hit the road again continuing up towards Sandwood Bay. I made it as far as Oldshoremore, before turning around and heading back down the loch to rejoin the main road south. There were a couple of quite significant hill climbs, so I was glad I’d consumed the chocolate brownie sundae, although I was getting irritated by the headwind as I pedalled towards Scourie, my destination for the evening.

I passed through some nice countryside, occasionally shouting at the still persistent headwind which was making hill climbs twice as hard. Shouting didn’t stop the headwind but it made me feel better, and there was no-one else around to alarm, just the odd startled sheep and deer. There might have been the occasional haggis too but they were staying well hidden.

Road to Scourie

I passed through Laxford Bridge, and then turned left on another detour around a minor road circuit that would take me past Handa Island. I’m not sure what possessed me to add on the extra miles, when my legs were already tired. I had a feeling it was going to be fairy flat, I was wrong.

Tarbet detour 1

Tarbet detour 2

Tarbet detour – loch which I thought I recognised from a film with Vikings in, chasing Arthur and his Slavic Knights – King Arthur with Clive Owen, but there are lots of lochs like this about in this neck of the woods

To begin with there was a sign warning about ‘the bull’, but I didn’t encounter any aggressive bovines. I spent quite a bit of time wondering what I’d do if I did encounter a bull and it decided to chase me. I did have red panniers after all, and previously bullocks had got quite excited when I cycled past them in fields. I decided the best course of action if I couldn’t out-pedal it would be to abandon the bike to its rage and climb up a tree or boulder. I cycled down the narrow undulating road through Foindle, and Fanagmore, then around to Tarbet. There were some pretty steep climbs and descents which got me huffing and puffing a bit.

I stopped in Tarbet and had a look at Handa Island, which is one of Northern Europe’s biggest seabird colonies, home to Gannets, Razorbills, Skuas, Fulmers and all sorts of other birds. Porpoises, Orcas and seals are also seen in the area, along with other whales and basking sharks from time to time. The ferry to Handa Island wasn’t running today, and I didn’t see a lot aside from a large bird of prey quite high up, which might have been a golden eagle, or maybe just a buzzard. It definitely wasn’t a pigeon.

Handa Island

There’s a seafood restaurant in Tarbet, the Shoreside Inn, that looks like it’s worth a visit, but I decided to press on to Scourie. The whole circuit is worth a ride if you’re up for a challenge, even though it’s effectively a dead end. The road is narrow, undulating, with steep sections you can whizz down and get most of the way up the following hill. I was lucky as I didn’t meet any traffic, but I imagine it can get busier when the ferry is running and it’s the holiday season. There’s a massive 15% hill out of Tarbet which got me going again, even if my chain did slip a couple of times and one of brake blocks slid out when I stopped; the grub screw holding the pad in had fallen out, but luckily I found the pad and slid it back in, okay as long as I don’t slide backwards with the brakes on. I’ll have to temp fix the brake pad until I can find a new screw, which could be a while considering the lack of bike shops around here.

I made it back to the main road, again not encountering feisty bovines, and turned right to Scourie straight back into the headwind which was really starting to p*ss me off now. It was a slow last couple of miles to the campsite, bringing today’s total to 52; it felt like more. Having arrived I had a pint at the on site bar to recuperate before pitching my tent in a nice spot right next to the sea. The campsite is situated in a great spot, laid out in tiers with lots of room, great facilities, and the on-site bar and cafeteria which are a nice addition – lots of locals in the bar too so must be alright!

Scourie campsite

After a hard day I really just wanted to eat some food and collapse, but I noticed two more loose spokes on the back wheel, the Mavic. One of the nipples had also disappeared inside the rim, so I spent the next 30 minutes taking the tyre off, finding the nipple, reattaching it to the spoke, then putting the whole thing back together again and back on the bike and pumping up the tyre. I could see this was something I was going to have to regularly check.

Feeling very grimy post the ride and bike fix I grabbed a shower before heading in search of food, and free wifi with any luck. I ended up at the as Scourie Fisher Hotel which had the food, but not the wifi which was only available to residents unfortunately; seems a bit silly seeing as I would have stayed there longer if it had been open to touring cyclists. Still the haggis was nice, as was the fried chicken, and good ale.

Feeling tired and irritable I decided to have an early night, post writing up my journal. I had a check of my maps before turning in; there was still a lot of Scotland left, and that was without including the Hebs, Skye and Mull, which I wanted to visit if time allowed.

Dusk at Scourie campsite

Edited with BlogPad Pro

Leg 31 – to Cape Wrath

A short but bumpy ride…

31 May 2013

I woke up with my fingers crossed that the fog had disappeared overnight, it had, although it was still overcast and cold with a moderate south westerly bringing with it rain. I showered and had a shave, wanted to look my best for the Cape, then had breakfast of cheese and pitta bread, before packing up. I had to shake off my tent quite a bit which had gotten wet due to overnight rain. I stood there with it billowing around me as the German bikers roared off somewhere, I must have looked a bit strange but my tent was mostly dry after the vigorous shaking.

Beach next to Durness campsite – another grey day at present

I had seen a sign that said the ferry ran from 11.00 each day, so I aimed to get there in plenty of time to ensure I didn’t miss it. I pedalled from the campsite through Durness, to the Balnakeil Craft Village, before taking an old track back to the main road. It was marked as a road on the map, but wasn’t really, turning mostly into a field full of sheep at one point who weren’t entirely pleased with my intrusion.

Post extricating myself from the field and its malcontent occupants I rode down the hill to the ferry slipway; I was going to say ferry terminal but it was nothing so grandiose. Unfortunately the sign there said the next sailing was at 13.00, the first having been at 09.30, d’oh. I made a mental note not to trust information notices again.

East Keodale Pier – no ferry in sight

So I rode back up to the Balnakeil Craft Village where I’d seen a promising cafe earlier – the Cocoa Mountain Cafe. Getting out of the rain for a bit was a welcome relief, and my spirits were further bolstered by one of the cafe’s Mountain Mochas (decaf in this instance). The mocha did not disappoint being one of the chocolatiest things I’ve ever drunk, but balanced by the coffee so it wasn’t too sickly. They make their own chocolates too but I abstained, being a bit chocolated out after the drink.

Cocoa Mountain Cafe – Mountain Mocha

I spent a bit of time at the cafe chatting and writing up my blog, before cycling back through Durness to meet the ferry at 13.00. I use the term ferry here quite loosely, it’s a motor boat with enough room to accommodate about 8 people, plus the ferryman John and his dog. It’s perfectly adequate for getting people across to the minibus waiting on the other side of the narrow kyle, and has enough room to fit bikes in too. It cost me £8.00 for me and my bike. If you’re taking the minibus too it’s another £10.00, so I was glad I had alternative means of transport.

The East Keodale Pier – and some nice flowers

The Ferry Boat Dog, en-route across the kyle

On my way over with fellow passengers and another dog

The other side of the kyle

I was slightly worried the dogs might have a disagreement but the voyage passed peacefully, and I had a chat with my fellow passengers – thanks for helping with my panniers, and for the encouragement!

Having disembarked I loaded everything back on to my bike I set off on the circa 11.5 mile ride to the Cape Wrath lighthouse and Ozone Cafe. I quickly lost sight of the minibus as it steamed off ahead, but didn’t envy the passengers with it bumping around all over the place; they needed padded shorts like mine for the journey!

Entering the MOD firing range

The road is in a pretty poor state but passable on my bike. There are quite a few hills so was hard going when you throw in the bumps too. I didn’t want to go too fast for fear of damaging my wheels or tyres. I passed several cyclists going the other way back to the ferry, who’d got the 09.30 boat. One of them had a puncture which he was mending – he was on lightweight continental tyres so not that surprising on the puncture front. I also passed through the MOD firing range, thankfully no naval bombardments were going on today, although it would have made for a more interesting blog chapter.

The road passes through moorland for the most part, with bridges crossing the occasional stream, a few herds of sheep and the occasional farmstead. Not many if any trees up here – probably too exposed, or they get eaten by the deer.

Road through moorland to Cape Wrath

Looking back down the kyle

Exiting the firing range

Lighthouse finally in sight

I finally made it to the lighthouse and Ozone Cafe after about an hour and 45 minutes’s ride. The minibus was still there having not set off on its return leg yet, so I said hi to a few people before it left. I met John who runs the Ozone Cafe, who pointed me in the best direction of somewhere to pitch my tent, down next to the high stone wall where I’d be sheltered from the wind. I pitched my tent then went back to the cafe for a cold beer, a welcome beverage after quite a tricky ride; it’s quite mentally tiring to be constantly on the look out for potentially wheel damaging or cyclist injury obstacles on the potholed road. John told me the council patch it up every summer but it’s getting worse, eroded by the harsh weather especially in the winter, not to mention the frequent minibus tours – must play havoc with the van suspension. John also said he could supply dinner for me which I quickly agreed to – salmon being a better option than pasta.

Tent set up in the lea of the wall

Two walkers arrived whilst I was enjoying a beer at the cafe, having trekked up from the bothy a few miles away. It turned out they had kayaked around from Sandwood Bay this morning, and were staying the night at the bothy. Iain, the older of the two, is attempting to kayak around the whole Scottish coastline, no mean feat, and had been joined by his son Angus for the week. As with me, but probably more so, they’re really effected by the wind, as well as the tides and currents, so it can be slow going some days and really quick others. Pretty extreme kayaking around the coast of scotland – I’ve seen how quickly the tide can rip through some of the narrow channels, and the weather can change pretty quickly. Iain said the maximum he’s travelled in one day is about 50km, pretty impressive in my book. You can check out his blog at http://www.coldwetwater.blogpost.co.uk

I spent a while chatting with them over a beer, good to swap stories. They’d kayaked into a few of the sea caves down below the cape, which you can only get to from the water, sounded amazing. It must be a completely different perspective from sea level. The sea bird colonies are also a lot more visible from down there; they’d seen hundreds of gannets – I still really want to see them fishing. Iain and Angus (McBride) left after an hour or so leaving me pretty much alone to walk around the cape and take a few photos, which I’ll include at the end of this post.

The area around the lighthouse is wonderful, a harsh environment to live in when the weather is bad, but beautiful on evenings such as this, with moorland, sheer cliffs, seabirds and grazing deer. On other days you might have seen a whale or dolphins off the coast, but I didn’t spot any today. I think this was the furthest point from home I’d get to on the UK mainland, but will have to check that, it certainly felt like the most remote.

The tranquility was at one point shattered by the barking of a pack of dogs, and a group of five enthusiastic springer spaniels careered around the corner of the lighthouse buildings to come and see me. They turned out to be search and rescue dogs that John keeps, and once having found me the barking stopped, with a few wet noses checking me out. They bark because that’s what they’re trained to do when they find someone, but they were very friendly.

I retreated to my tent for a bit and promptly feel asleep it was so peaceful, waking up about 18.00 in time for dinner. I popped back up to the cafe and dined on wild Atlantic salmon, with new potatoes, peas and carrots, with butter. Absolutely delicious. I chatted with John for a bit, who’d caught the salmon himself, it was much nicer than the farmed stuff which he is fairly critical of, the fish being full of chemicals. In the past he’s worked on a salmon farm, and talked to divers who’ve been underneath the salmon enclosures where there are piles of waste which nothing touches, sounds horrible.

John confirmed it can get pretty fierce up here in the storms and high winds, but it’s a stunning spot, with shipping slowly cruising past on the horizon. Apparently you get naval ships moored up close by during exercises, and they often leave John some of their supplies at the end of their stay in the area. He’s kept busy all the time with maintenance and looking after visitors. The Ozone Cafe is effectively open 24 hours a day, all year, to cater for anyone that might turn up at any time. Hikers can arrive at any time of the night completing the Cape Wrath trail. John has been here 5 years, with visitor numbers gradually increasing. I hope more people visit but not too many as to spoil the feel of the place – I don’t think that will happen given its remote location.

The lighthouse, built by Robert Stevenson again, was constructed in 1826 post great demand after 3 ships were lost in one night alone on the treacherous coastline. The Stevensons built a total of 96 lighthouses around the coast of Scotland, a pretty amazing legacy, and also advised and built similar structures abroad, as far away as New Zealand and Japan.

A lighthouse is certainly needed at Cape Wrath, even though it’s unmanned now as so many are. John says he has to go and reboot the lighthouse computer for the Lighthouse Service frequently as it crashes, so sounds like it would benefit from a keeper still! It’s a shame there are less lighthouse keeps now. They provided a valuable service to the coastguard, keeping an eye out for people in trouble, and providing real time weather reports which were also invaluable. They also used to record details of the wildlife in the area, providing great information to naturalists. Unfortunately some of the lighthouse out buildings are in a bit of a state of poor repair now with no one around to upkeep them.

Cape Wrath is a apt name haven the location and weather that can hit the area. The name actually originates from the Norse words for turning point (area called Am Parth in Norse I think) as this is where the Norse ships turned East to go back home on their trading or being a Viking voyages.

The Ozone Cafe and Cape get quite a few visitors, either people who’ve come over on the ferry and minibus, hikers doing the Cape Wrath trail, or kayakers! It’s a must visit spot if you’re in the area, and had been on my list from day one so I was very glad to have made it, and that it wasn’t foggy. I felt quite exhilarated by the whole experience, and certainly slept well that night. If you’re cycling the road across to the lighthouse you’ll definitely need padded shorts though! Be warned there are no toilets at the moment, fine for me but could be tricky for some.

There was a cool poem on the wall of the cafe that I thought I’d include, written by Sir Walter Scott, one time commissioner of the Northern Lighthouses, in 1814.

Far in the bosom of the deep

O’er these wild shelves my wrath I keep

A ruddy gem of changeful light

Bound on the dusky brow of Night,

The Seaman bids my lustre hail,

And scorns to strike his timorous sail.