Tag Archives: Lochgilphead

Leg 47- to the Whistlefield Inn, Argyll Forest

I’m in Essex as I write this, and miss my time in Scotland, which was amongst some of the best riding of the Bike around Britain tour. Leg 47 was another good day, with fantastic scenery and more places and people to revisit at some point in the future.

17 June 2013

There was was a splash from outside my tent, followed by another, someone throwing stones I thought? Maybe I’d annoyed some locals by camping here. I cautiously opened the tent flaps to a bright morning, peering out, and spotted the culprits of splashing. Rather than an angry mob there were two gannets fishing, flying up and down the shoreline and occasionally diving down into the loch, an amazing sight to wake up to.

Morning at Otter Ferry, Loch Fyne

Loch Fyne, gannets fishing – couldn’t catch them in a photo though

Unfortunately I’d camped in a shady spot and the midges were still out, so I packed up and breakfasted quickly, before setting out on what was probably going to be a long day, with lots of Scottish hills to cross, as well as some lovely National Park land.

Otter Ferry – The Oystercatcher

Bike loaded I rode down through Otter Ferry, not named after Otters, but after the Gaelic for sandbank (oitir), and past the Oystercatcher pub, before continuing up the B8000 towards Ardlamont Point. I passed a couple of cyclists going the other way looking rather sweaty, who warned me of impending hills. They weren’t wrong about the hills, which were a little feisty, however it was worth it for the views at the point. There was also a nice coach house cafe which I was tempted to stop at, but resisted in this instance.

Ardlamont Point 1

Ardlamont Point 2

Ardlamont Point 3

I turned back north towards Kames and Tignabruiaich, passing a few other cyclists with whom greetings were exchanged. A lot of tourists appear to frequent this area, also know as Secret Scotland, and I’m not surprised given the fantastic scenery and national park.

Road to Tignabruiaich

Following the coast alongside the Kyles of Butes, the Isle of Bute was just across the water. I think you can almost walk across to it at low tide, but they obviously want to keep their island status for the tax breaks!

Looking across to Bute

I stopped in Tignabruiaich for lunch at the Burnside Bistro, as several coach-loads of mostly the older generation turned up, quickly making there way to the few eating establishments who were obviously prepped for their arrival, springing into action; it must be a daily occurrence during the holiday season and I was glad I’d got in just before they’d arrived. I consumed my scampi and had a coffee, before escaping the hordes who were busy eating Tignabruiaich out of cake as far as I could see.

Tignabruiaich – panorama

Tignabruiaich – Kyles of Bute

Post lunch I had to tackle a long hill climb out of Tignabruiaich, which took a considerable amount of effort especially as it was getting fairly warm; it was all worth it for the views the top. Several loads of cake laden tourists passed me, the coaches labouring up the ascent, and filling the lovely clean Scottish air with fumes. A lot of those tourists could have benefitted from a bit of a cycle I reckon!

View from above Tignabruiaich 1

View from above Tignabruiaich 2

View from above Tignabruiaich 3

There was another one of Scotland’s handy information signs at the top of the hill, which educated me on the various Norse versus Scots battles that had taken place in the area, before the Norse were finally kicked out, and about Clan Cambell who dominated the area, with at times an equally bloody history.

I rode on alongside Loch Riddon, enjoying a nice descent on the A8003, before turning on to the A886 and then the B836 as I followed the coast. Another series of hills followed up to Loch Tarsan, several marked as serious climbs or descents which either made my brakes squeal or me perspire and grunt accordingly. I was almost tempted to jump in Loch Tarsan to cool off, but reckoned it would have been a bit of a shock to the system. Scottish lochs are not renowned for being particularly warm.

Loch Tarsan

There followed a nice descent down to Dunoon, where I did a quick circuit before heading back up around Holy Loch. I stopped to refill my water bottles at an accommodating cafe at the Marina, and stocked up on a few energy boosting supplies in the form of bananas and biscuits.

Dunoon waterfront looking over to Strone

I considered getting the ferry over from Dunoon to Gourock, which would have saved me a ride back up to Loch Fyne and round to Glasgow, but in the end decided I didn’t want to miss out on the Loch Lomond and The Trossachs National Park. I’m not entirely sure what a Trossach is though, perhaps related to haggis?

With it starting to chill off I rode through Strone and up to Ardentinny, alongside Loch Long, with more great views to absorb. I feared Scotland was going to spoil me somewhat, potentially overshadowing the rest of my tour! With it getting later I considered pitching up and wild camping for the night, but couldn’t find anywhere immediately suitable so I pedalled on, spotting the Whistlefield Inn on my map which would do for dinner.

Loch Lomond and The Trossachs National Park

Loch Lomond and The Trossachs National Park 2

Fishing boat on Loch Long

Loch Long – near Ardentinny

There were of course the usual caravan parks in evidence, but they don’t always accept tents, and I didn’t fancy paying over the odds to camp when I could just find a nice spot further into the national park.

With the end of the day looming there followed a massive and very steep hill climb up to Sligrachan, that seriously taxed my legs and lungs, and was probably the closest I’d come to having to stop and push in Scotland to date; reckon the hills and heat had tired me out somewhat. I was rewarded with a pleasant descent down to the Whistlefield Inn, where I’d already decided I’d stop for dinner. It proved to be a good decision.

Road to Whistlefield Inn through national park

I’d only covered 65 miles, but there’d been some serious and pretty constant hills along the way, so it was a relief to sit down in a comfy chair and stretch my legs out. The food was excellent and reasonably priced, although at this stage I would have eaten pretty much anything and thought it nice I was so hungry. I consumed my Cajun chicken meal pretty swiftly, followed by a ginger and date sponge pudding which was also excellent, all washed down with a pint of Sommerset Cider as recommended by Hannah, the most excellent barmaid/host who was running the place with the manager out poorly. Hannah let me know there was a good spot to wild camp just around the corner, or said I could just pitch my tent in the grounds of the Inn, so I was also sorted for a place to kip for the night.

Taking advantage of the free wifi I caught up on the news, and enjoyed a few more pints, then spent the evening chatting to Hannah and a few other locals in the Inn. John and Lynne gave me some good advice on my route for the following day, round to Glasgow. John had cycled in the Outer Hebs, which I hadn’t managed to get to but sounded very much worth a visit – on the list! He also has at least one Uncle who’s won the lottery, and we talked about the effect this can have on people. I reckon it would be great to win, as there is so much I’d love to do with the money, but I might not tell anyone as that just seems to cause problems.

All in all a great evening, finishing up by chatting with Hannah about living up here, which sounded great but not without its challenges. For example getting anything done by employing workmen from Dunoon is obviously a bit of a chore, as they work on ‘Dunoon time’ and are very laid back. They’ll get things done, but might need reminding, and there’s no guarantee as to when the job will be finished. The pace of life around this neck of the woods is definitely completely different to for instance the South East, and there’s something nice and I daresay healthy about that, although it could be frustrating if you’re not used to it.

Post a bit of a late night, with probably a few too many beers and a whisky courtesy of Hannah, I rather blearily pitched my tent and crashed out for the night. It had been a great day’s ride, followed by a great evening in friendly company. I was looking forward to tomorrow’s leg and getting around to Glasgow, and heading South, but I’d be sorry to leave this part of Scotland and some of the people I’d met. Thoroughly recommend the Whistlefield Inn if you find yourself in the area.

The Whistlefield Inn

I’ll definitely be coming back to this part of the world sooner rather than later.

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Leg 46 – to Otter Ferry via Inveraray

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Just to confirm I’m not actually in Scotland anymore, my blog is just really behind due to more exciting stuff taking precedence. I will catch up, but no doubt I’ll still be doing so from home post tour end! Check out my twitter feed (@jam_har) if you want more up-to-date info.

16 June 2013

I woke up feeling a little woozy after the excesses of the previous night at the Argyll Inn, however I feel it’s important to immerse oneself in the local culture. It was a pretty dull day outside my tent, with no wind, and closer inspection revealed clouds of midges still buzzing around. I grabbed some breakfast from my panniers and retreated back inside for another hour or so, swatting at any midges that made it in.

Post a bit of writing, and some route planning (will wonders never cease), I spread out wet stuff to dry as the sun came out, and had a shower. I still had quite a bit of damp kit from the last few days, and didn’t want to wear wet kit again, or pack it away like that. My shoes were also still quite soggy, however after a bit of bike maintenance, packing up, and a call to my parents to wish Dad a happy Father’s Day they were at least comfortable to wear again, and on the road to being merely moist.

It turned in to a bit of a late start after deciding to FaceTime my brother and his family too. Still, it was Sunday and I was enjoying catching up with people. It was good to see my nephew Seb dashing about on his tricycle. He’ll be on a bike and challenging for the yellow jersey in no time, although he is only 1 and 3/4, so maybe a little bit of training required; no performance enhancing drugs though so I’d better hide the Haribos.

Lochgilphead campsite – sunshine!

Leaving Lochgilphead in the sunshine, I stopped at a supermarket for a few supplies and to get some lunch, expecting to have to wild camp for a night or two. I try to avoid going to supermarkets when I’m hungry, which is a bit of a challenge on this tour, so I ended up buying far more than I intended, mostly from the bakery section – pastries, fresh bread, and cookies.

Lochgilphead – low tide

I pedalled down the A83 round to Loch Fyne, following the relatively flat road along the coast through Lochgair, Tullochgarm, and past the gardens at Crarae, advertised as Scotland’s own Himalayan experience which sounded intriguing.

Alongside Loch Fyne

Alongside Loch Fyne 2

Post Furnace there’s a reasonably long climb up past the Aachindrain Township, before a nice long descent to Inveraray. The A83, thus far, was proving to be a pleasant road, being smooth, and passing through forest and farmland. I noticed quite a bit of logging going on again, leaving stark patches on hillsides, and piles of timber waiting for a lorry beside the roadside.

Lush vegetation next to mountain stream

The hills before Inveraray

One of the benefits of hills plus a high level of annual rainfall is Scotland can generate quite a bit of power from hydroelectric facilities, and I passed quite a few along the way.

Logging activity in evidence

More sunshine makes a nice change

After an altogether different sort of ride to yesterday morning’s, and feeling in holiday mode quite randomly, I stopped at the Loch Fyne Hotel on the way into Inveraray for a break. The hotel in run by a friend of a friend’s brother, and had been recommended (thanks Vikki) via Twitter due to good food, and spa facilities should I require them. I was sorely tempted to have a sauna and massage, but opted for a pint and food instead, sitting outside in the sunshine and chatting to a few other tourists. The tuna melt panini and wedges didn’t last long, and it was lovely feeling warm for a change, although with clouds in the sky and it being Scotland I was prepared for the weather to change at any given moment.

Bike having a break at Loch Fyne Hotel

The sign said the hotel couldn’t be held responsible for any damage to parked vehicles – I hoped my bananas were going to be alright.

Post the hotel I rode on into Inveraray, and had a look around. Even though it was Sunday everything was open, it being a tourist destination, and I nipped into the whisky shop as recommended by Dad. I could have spent a lot of money in there, but thankfully didn’t have room in my panniers, so instead chatted with the owner about some of the distilleries I’d passed. He, of course, had whisky from all of them. The shop smelt marvellous.

Inveraray Whisky Shop – Loch Fyne Whiskies

Inveraray Whisky Shop 2

I stopped for a look at the famous jail, and castle, but didn’t go into either. They were a bit pricey for the time I’d be visiting them for.

Inveraray Jail – thought about dropping lobster off for a stay given his lack of cycling effort

Inveraray Castle 1

Inveraray Castle 2

Inveraray high street

Inveraray is a nice little town and worth a visit. I joined the throngs in having an ice cream and relaxed on the green next to the loch for a bit, watching a bloke toss a cocktail bottle around pretty professionally (that sentence could have gone wrong). I think he was trying to impress a group of nearby girls so I was quite amused when he hit himself in the head, causing much giggling.

Inveraray waterfront

Inveraray Castle from bridge

I rode out of town over the bridge, continuing on the A83 alongside Loch Fyne. Everything was very green, with the road passing through forest and fern, and some lovely scenery. I passed a group of veteran cycle tourers going the other way, powering up the hill I was coasting down, all looking very fit and lean and probably in their 70’s, good stuff. Cycling obviously has massive health benefits, and must add several years on to your expected life span.

The Loch Fyne Oyster Bar/Deli/Restaurant was my next destination. This is the original restaurant of the Loch Fyne chain. I’ve been to the one in Norwich several times and really like their seafood, although I need to check if they use wild or farmed salmon now.

Loch Fyne Oyster Bar

I was tempted to grab a meal, however you no doubt need to book, and it wasn’t long since I’d last eaten (not that that seems to make much difference on this tour, mange tout) so I just had a browse around their shop looking at all their goodies, a lot of which I have ordered online in the past as gifts for people, vey handy. Unfortunately none of the produce would keep very well in my panniers, but I did recommend the Bradan Rost pâté to one indecisive shopper.

I finally made it around the top of Loch Fyne and rode down into Cairndow, and past the Ardkinglas Woodland Garden which claims to have the tallest tree in the UK; I wonder who goes around measuring them all. The village is ‘quaint’ and gas some pretty roads around it.

Verdant roads near Cairndow

More verdant roads near Cairndow

With it starting to get late, and still wanting to cover a decent number of miles, I pedalled on down the A815 to Strachur and past the apparently award winning Creggans Inn. There must be a lot of people and organisations giving out awards these days, having passed a lot of establishments that have won one award or another, but to be fair the Inn did look nice. Steeling myself I pressed on down the B8000 coastal route, passing through a few small villages, and hearing the distant strains of the pipes from down the road somewhere. It was a bit bizarre cycling down the quiet road with the sound of bagpipes gradually getting louder. I eventually passed their source – a man playing outside his caravan in a small caravan park. I wonder what his neighbours think.

I rode past the Kilmore Chapel where the Lachlan Clan chiefs are buried, according to the sign.

Loch Fyne – clouds suddenly made things go dark

Loch Fyne from on high

The road alongside the loch is really lovely, with just the occasional hill, dip and turn, and great scenery. I think I hit it at the right time of day with the light conditions making things look dramatic.

I made it to Otter Ferry at about 19.30, and stopped for a pint in the pub whilst considering where to camp. The owner advised there was a good spot just back up the road, next to the loch, that would hopefully not be too midgey. With that sorted I got chatting to the only other people in the pub, who turned out to be from Norwich too, living just down the road from me near Elm Hill; it’s a small world sometimes.

Me at Otter Ferry, shores of Loch Fyne

Kay and Peter Bemble were up on the West Coast of Scotland on hols, with Peter recovering from bowel cancer surgery and chemotherapy. We chatted for a while about my trip, and what they were up to, agreeing that when something like cancer happens to you, or someone close to you, it doesn’t half give you the motivation to try and live life to the max, and get out there and do stuff you’ve always wanted to but perhaps put off due to work etc. You never really know what’s going to happen so don’t put your dreams on hold for too long! Peter talked about having a fresh perspective on life, and appreciating things more such as Springtime arriving, blossom appearing on trees etc. Lu was the same, having had a big lust for life post her treatment. Thanks for the donation to the Big C, and congrats on your daughter making the Olympic fencing team! Good luck with your next scan Peter, and maybe see you back in Norwich. Lovely people, like a a lot of the folks I’ve bumped into on this tour.

Post a pint, and another courtesy of Kay and Peter, I rode back along the loch locating the spot next to the shoreline the publican had recommended. It was a great little patch and I pitched up next to the beach, quickly lighting a fire to try and discourage the midges, which duly arrived in numbers. I used the quick fire lighting method in this instance, rather than flint and steel, opting for fuel for my stove over driftwood. Needs must when midges attack.

Anti midge fire – sort of worked

Nice camping spot

I applied Avon skin so soft to try and further deter the midges but it didn’t seem to be discouraging them much, so I got the tent up quick, whilst watching a cormorant fish in the loch.

Wild camp on the shores of Loch Fyne

Tent up and fire smoking nicely

The light kept changing because of the clouds, but it led to a wonderful sunset which I watched from my tent, before turning in early with a big day planned for tomorrow.

Loch Fyne sunset 1

Sunset beach panorama

Loch Fyne sunset 2

Loch Fyne sunset 3

The colours just kept getting better and better.

Loch Fyne sunset 4

As I was shutting the tent door a grey heron stalked by at the water’s edge, obviously not quite sleepy enough to retire yet, unlike me. I keep meaning to do a count on grey herons, I’ve seen loads in Scotland.

Quick mileage update – with 60 odd miles done today, my total was standing at around 2720.

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Leg 45 – to Lochgilphead

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15 June 2013

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

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

Bike maintenance in the rain

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

Very wet countryside

Damp but still smiling

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

Countryside inspiring despite the weather

Rain still coming down on the road to Campbeltown

Is it a road or a river?

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

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

Approaching Campbeltown, isle just off the coast

Approaching Campbeltown, Davaar isle just off the coast

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

Fry up at Bluebell Cafe improves matters

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

Welcome break at the Black Sheep Pub, Campbeltown

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

One of several rivers I passed over, all swollen

Sun coming out over another river

Damp sheep, that’ll learn them

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

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

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

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

Dry but still threatening

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

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

Tarbert harbour

Tarbert harbour and swans

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

Tarbert harbour, large motor cruiser

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

Blue skies at last

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

Ardrishaig – end of Crinan Canal

Crinan Canal

Ardrishaig pier and lighthouse

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

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

Lochgilphead – looking down towards Saddell Water

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

The Argyll Inn

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

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Tag Archives: Lochgilphead

Leg 47- to the Whistlefield Inn, Argyll Forest

Leg 46 – to Otter Ferry via Inveraray

Leg 45 – to Lochgilphead