Tag Archives: wild camping

Leg 73 – to East Dean

13 July 2013

My tent turning into an oven pretty early on indicated it was going to be another hot day, so I rolled out before it got too unbearable at about 07.30. The campsite was already very active with people getting ready for the Goodwood Festival of Speed. I could hear bacon sizzling from all directions; the smell was very attractive.

Loveders Farm campsite – morning campers

Ian of course hadn’t had the ‘benefit’ of a tent, and certainly hadn’t needed one. I was quite jealous of his sleeping mat which, as opposed to mine, appeared to stay inflated throughout the night. Mine hadn’t really done that since Lincolnshire but I’d just got used to it. I might have to invest in a similar one if I can remember the make (Ian?).

In the daylight you could see just how busy the campsite was with punters going to the Festival of Speed; there was an air of excitement and I almost wished we were going that way, but the traffic would have been horrendous.

Ian soon emerged from his cocoon like bivvy bag, and we set about getting ready for the day ahead. Although we didn’t have bacon we did have lots of cheese and pickle, and chocolate milk, and fruit, so hearty fare was had, with more sandwiches prepared for lunch. After a shower we packed up and got on the road for about 10.00, cycling from Nutbourne down to Bosham, an ancient village with references back to Roman Times.

Bosham 1

Emperer Vespasion may have built a house in Bosham; the Romans certainly built a basilica there. Fishbourne is just up the road where there’s a famous Roman villa. King Canute also had a palace in the village, and his daughter allegedly drowned in the mill pond and was buried in the church yard. Canute was the monarch who commanded, unsuccessfully, for the tide to stop coming in, to show his sycophantic court that there were limits to his power. This seems like a bit of a risk to take as a medieval king if you ask me; I’d prefer them to think me all powerful to discourage assassination attempts. King Harold, who was killed at the battle of Hastings, might also have been buried in the church; it’s all rather speculative.

Bosham 2

The road around the inlet at Bosham is very low, and floods regularly at low tide, however we were in luck as the tide was out as we pedalled around it. Actually it would have been more fun if the tide had been in a bit, as Ian and I have a tendency to do stupid things when we get together, or at least he entices me into doing stupid things; there could well have been some stunts had the road been waterlogged.

Bosham 3 – a rare photo of me on my bike

We continued around the coast and up to Fishbourne, using a cycle path to get most of the way to Chichester. The roads were getting increasingly busier as I rode further east, and the cars more expensive looking. This seemed to directly correlate to a reduction in driver patience and road etiquette, so I was glad to be off the road even for a short while. We rode past the Roman villa/palace at Fishbourne and down into Chichester, where we stopped for a break in a cafe; I had an excellent pineapple and mango smoothie, and was seriously tempted with the fry up they had on offer.

Cafe stop in Chichester

Chichester grew to importance in Roman times, and its street plan still resembles the layout of that original town, with a Roman road going up to London, and another going to Silchester. It continued to be an important city through the centuries; King Alfred the Great fortified it during his battles against the Danes.

That’s probably enough on the Time Team front; back to the cycling. Refreshed we took the B2266 down to Bognor Regis, after a great stretch alongside a canal. It was lovely riding away from the traffic again, although that didn’t last once we rejoined the road. The holiday season was definitely in full sway along the coast, with a group of oldsters singing Vera Lynn numbers, and various acts along the seafront.

Fundraisers in Bognor – knocking out a few Vera Lynn numbers

Belly dancers on the beach

We passed cheerleaders as well, always a bonus! And there was a Birdman competition scheduled for later in the day but we had to get on. Birdman competitions are a little odd, but great fun to watch. Contestants in various costumes and contraptions launch themselves off a pier, trying to ‘fly’ the furthest distance possible before crashing into the sea. Google images will supply pictorial evidence in this case, should you require it.

Beautiful day along the South Coast

We continued along the coast to Littlehampton, stopping to consume sandwiches and the occasional icecream to take the edge off the hot day, and to maintain energy levels. It was a nice change to ride with someone else, and we were pretty equally matched speed wise. I’d been worried Ian would be a lot faster than me with his lighter bike, compared to my Ridgeback with its bulging panniers, however he had much fatter tyres which thankfully slowed him up a bit, and I was more used to hills by this stage.

Me riding down the A259 – not a great road for a cyclist

We made it to Littlehampton and obtained directions from some other cyclists as to the best route to Worthing, trying to avoid the busy main road as much as possible. Maybe it was the heat however drivers were definitely being more aggressive in the South East, or maybe it was because there were two of us; shouldn’t have made any difference as we were in single file. I’m sorry to say that I’ve just come to the conclusion that whilst you can’t generalise, there are just a higher percentage of impatient, irritable and bad drivers in the South East, compared to the rest of the country, barring large cities where maniacal driving is something of the norm. I grew up near Hastings and Eastbourne so I already had a pretty good inkling that this was going to be the case. Thankfully there are quite a lot of quieter roads and cycle paths you can use, and the countryside is lovely to ride through.

Worthing Pier

Just before Worthing I spotted a bike shop, somewhere between Ferring and Goring-by-Sea. My old cycling gloves were in the process of disintegrating having taken a battering over the last few months, in all weathers, and after having been soaked with sweat and at times blood from various nicks and scratches. One glove had lost two gel pads, and the other was in danger of losing the same ones, so it was time to replace them; they really help my hands stop developing pins and needles after a few hours riding. I opted for Endura fingerless gloves again, but a slightly different type to my current ones. The new gloves were far less smelly, and very comfy; I instructed the helpful shop staff to treat my old ones as a biohazard and burn them at the first opportunity. We’d been drinking a lot of water throughout the day and the shop also let us refill our waterbottles, which was much appreciated; think the shop was http://www.southdownsbikes.com , so check them out if you’re in the area.

Ian’s bike – he was travelling light

We pedalled on, battling through traffic and the occassional swearing driver to Worthing, and then on to Shoreham-by-Sea which was packed with people enjoying the sunshine. There were lots of beach huts along the Shoreham seafront, some of which were immaculately finished, with extravagant interiors. People obviously go to a lot of effort to kit them out and maintain them; they’re not something I’ve ever considered owning but I can see the attraction if you live near a nice beach, and they’d be ideal for storing your windsurfing kit in, if it weren’t for security worries.

We had to double back in Shoreham because the cycle bridge over the lagoon hadn’t been finished yet, despite the cycle route signs pointing us in that direction. I’d hoped we’d be able to meet up with Anthony Sheehan in Shoreham, who’d been following my travels via Twitter, however after the traffic and frequent icecream stops we arrived a little too late. Hope you had a good day’s ride anyway Anthony, and cheers for the messages.

Riding on down the A259 we arrived in Hove and then Brighton, where we stopped to meet up with Ian’s sister Caroline, who I hadn’t seen in ages, her husband Roger and their 6 month old baby Jasmine. It was great to sit on the grass in the sunshine down by the seafront, which was packed with likeminded individuals having picnics, the odd drink, or quite a lot of odd drinks in some cases. We were also treated to some bonus food courtesy of Caroline and Roger – couscous and quinoa, very tasty and good carb loading stuff. We spent about an hour lazing before deciding we really ought to head on towards the South Downs and find somewhere to camp for the night, however it had been very pleasant relaxing for a bit, and watching a plane do some aerobatics over the beach.

: Brighton Seafront – meeting up with Caroline, Roger and Jasmine

: Brighton Beach

: Aerobatics 1

: Aerobatics 2

: Aerobatics 3

: Aerobatics 4

: Aerobatics 5

: Me on Brighton seafront

Thanks for the encouragment and mention on your website Caroline and Roger – http://www.dragonflyclinic.com – sports therapist and other treatments plus pilates if you’re in need. Hope to see you again soon; think Ian, Chris and I might be passing through Brighton sometime early next year if a plan comes to fruition.

Energy levels replenished we picked our way along the cycle path that runs down Brighton seafront, dodging the multitude of tourists and locals strolling about in the sunshine, who frequently meandered into the cycle lane. It was absolutely packed with people, especially around the pier. I guess folk descend from London and its boroughs for the weekend, especially if the weather is good.

So it was slow going getting out of Brighton, but we eventually made it passing the marina and heading for the hills as the South Downs rose up before us. These were the first serious hills we’d encountered all day, and with the heat Ian was struggling slightly as we passed through Rottingdean, Peacehaven, and on to Newhaven. I’d probably underestimated how acclimatised I was to riding long distances in hot weather, compared with my cycling buddy for the weekend, and despite drinking lots of water he realised later he may have suffered from a touch of heatstroke. We stopped in Newhaven and nipped into the supermarket to grab some supplies; it was nice to stand in the freezer isle for a bit again.

After a couple of pints of banana milk we both felt a lot better, and rode on to Seaford and ‘up’ into the ‘Downs’, which seems a little contradictory but there you go, that’s the English language for you.

Coast off Seaford

The scenery around the Cuckmere Haven and the Seven Sisters country park took me back to my childhood when I’d come here on Geography field trips to study the Oxbow lakes, or to visit the nature centre and walk with my brother and parents; we acquired some stick insects which were pretty fascinating at the time. There followed a monster climb up to Friston Forest, as we ingored ‘Route 2’ which directed us inland towards Polegate, sticking instead to the coast road (A259 still).

We were in familiar territory as we sped down the hill to East Dean, heading for the Tiger Inn where dinner and a cold pint awaited.

Bikes resting in East Dean after a hot days ride

Having grown up near here I knew of several good pubs, however the Tiger was reliable and with the South Downs on our doorstep there’d be loads of places to crash out later.

The Tiger – East Dean

It was busy but we managed to squeeze on to a table outside, and ordered a couple of pints of Harvey’s Ale and the pub’s homemade burgers for dinner. Harvey’s Brewery is based in Lewis, just down the road; unfortunately I’m not related as far as I know, but the beer is very good, matching anything brewed in Norfolk aside from perhaps Nelson’s Revenge. We spent a very pleasant few hours in the pub ‘rehydrating’ as the sunshine disappeared, to be replaced by a balmy evening with clear skies. A large group of cycle tourers appeared later on for dinner, and then rode off towards the beach; I wasn’t sure where they were going to camp but we’d decided back up the hill was probably the best bet.

Tiger Inn – busy evening

Having eaten and drunk our fill we left the pub and headed back up towards the forest and top of the hill, pushing our bikes through a meadow above East Dean.

Tiger Inn sign

No tent was required, not that Ian had one, so we both just lay down in the long grass on our sleeping mats, watching the stars and odd sattelite travelling across the night sky. It was a great spot to sleep for the night, and whilst not strictly legal we weren’t bothering anyone, or wrecking the joint, and you wouldn’t know we’d been there by the time we left in the morning. I think it was probably National Trust land and we’d be gone early, so probably wouldn’t be noticed by anyone aside from the odd dog walker. I just hoped there weren’t any cows or sheep in the meadow that might come and try and get friendly with us later on in the night; knowing my luck it would sheep, infernal creations.

We’d covered 65 miles today, which was an excellent effort from Ian considering the heat and the fact that whilst he’s done lots of long mountain bike rides before, he’s not really done much in the way of cycle touring. We’d only have a short ride tomorrow to get over towards Hastings, where I was going to stop for the night with my parents and Ian lived anyway.

It was great falling asleep under a spectacular starry sky, and waking up to a wonderful view as the sun rose.

Sunrise on the South Downs

Leg 44 – to Campbell Town, Southend and the Mull of Kintyre

5 Replies

I’m in the West Country now, so the blog is still very behind but will catch up as and when I have time. I’m doing some long legs to try and make it around to the Latitude Festival, which will be fun and near the end of my tour. I may link up with the cycle to Latitude event in London on 18 July, just talking to the organisers about it.

14 June 2013

To say that the 14 June 2013 won’t qualify in the top ten of my Bike around Britain touring days may be a bit of an understatement. It probably wouldn’t make the top 50, more likely the bottom 10 unfortunately.

I got up late, mostly because I overslept, and partially because when I did wake up it was raining and I did’t feel like getting out of my cosy tent. The rain eventually stopped, and my bladder dictated it was time to emerge into the wider world. As the toilet block next to the camping field was currently under construction, I had to make it to the other toilet block about a quarter of a mile away. I opted to take my bike, the bumpy ride not at all helping with the bladder situation. I did however notice that my rear wheel was rubbing against the brake pads, thus warranting attention.

Morning view from Port Ban campsite

When I got back from workmen had arrived to start doing more to the new toilet block. It will really be a blessing for campers when that’s finished. Unfortunately they started cutting tiles which rather shattered the peace of the beachfront campsite, not that there were any other campers around, but the buzzards were definitely vexed.

There followed about an hour of rear wheel fixing, which was pretty annoying seeing as it was new. I guess the weight of the panniers had worn it in quickly! Straightening out the buckle took a lot of patience and fine tuning of spokes, and a couple of times I nearly despaired at the worsening wiggle as I turned the wheel. I eventually got it into a satisfactory state, and also adjusted the brakes and gave everything a quick lube for good measure. I’ll need to check the rear wheel and spokes every morning I think, just to be on the safe side, and maybe get some advice from the next decent bike shop I pass; could be a while as not many shops, let alone bike shops, around here.

What is it about me and rear wheels? It’s not like I’m overloading the bike, and it’s balanced front and back. At least I’m getting lots of practice at spoke tuning and brake adjustment. Haven’t broken any spokes yet either, touch wood.

Bike finally loaded and ready to go

Everything packed and loaded, and slightly nervous about my spokes going ping, or being too loose on one side, I pedalled up to reception to pay for the night. £14.00 was a bit steep, and I was beginning to wish I’d just wild camped, however the staff were nice and a hot shower always welcome. I spent 30 minutes in their cafe before leaving, partaking of a warm beverage to recover from my stressful wheel straightening experience, and watching the buzzards fly about over the bluff.

Port Ban campsite

On my way out of Kilberry I took a quick detour to see the sculpted medieval stones, which turned out to be very like the ones in Kilmartin, depicting medieval lords, or swords and suchlike.

Kilberry sculpted stones

At this point the weather was still alright, with a moderate but manageable southerly breeze.

Liked this house

From Kilberry I rode up West Loch Tarbert, through some nice countryside, seeing a couple of ferries heading out towards the islands; Caledonian Macbride ferries again. The minor road I was on (B8024) passed through woodland of beech, oak, ash, sycamore and pine – those were the species I could identify easily anyway. There were buttercups, bluebells and wild garlic growing alongside the road in abundance, the wild garlic giving off a splendid aroma.

Road to Tarbert – top of a decent hill climb

I had to contend with several largish hills, which woke my legs up nicely, but reached Tarbert in good time. I didn’t actually go into the town, turning on to the A83 just beforehand for the 37 mile ride down to Campbeltown. I’d be back along this way shortly anyway, one of the joys of the Scottish coastline – Slartibartfast has a lot to answer for.

Heading south along the coast the sky grew overcast and rather threatening, with a steadily building headwind making it tough going. The sea looked angry with plenty of white horses, and waves crashing over the rocks in places. I passed through Whitehouse and on to Portachoillan, with the occasional period of sunshine brightening things up. It was however a hard slog into the headwind, especially up the frequent hills, and every mile was hard won. It reminded me of my first day on Orkney, where the wind had been challenging on the way to Kirkwall; If anything it was windier, and some of the gusts really caught my panniers and pushed me around.

Threatening skies, and ferry on its way

I eventually made it down to Tayinloan, with the island of Gigha just off the coast. A ferry runs from Tayinloan to the small island, which is inhabited, probably by sheep for the most part. Don’t think there’s a distillery on it, unlike Islay and Jura which I could also see across the water.

Llamas on patrol

I met a group of Llamas which made a nice change to the usual livestock. This one was particularly curious, however I kept my distance worried he might spit at me, which I’m sure I’ve heard they do sometimes. I liked his hairstyle, very down with the kids.

Stopping in Muasdale for a break I dropped into the village store. They had bananas! I’d forgotten to buy any in Oban and had developed a craving for them. I duly consumed a couple, along with some chocolate to try and get some energy back. The store owner advised that on a good day you could ride to Campbeltown in 30 minutes, or about 2 hours if the wind was in the wrong direction. He was about right, the next session taking a while and involving a fair bit of swearing as the headwind quickly drained my banana infused legs.

Riding on down the A83. Not liking the look of the weather.

The next 15 miles were really hard work, with the headwind getting a lot stronger as I passed through Bellochantuy and Kilkenzie, before arriving in Campbeltown about 17.00.

Windy coastline, with sheep of course

The old bridge

Weather boding ill

The last 10 miles had been achieved purely on the promise of a hot meal and a pint in Campbeltown, so I had a quick ride around looking for somewhere to have a break. Passing a Co-op I nipped in to buy a few supplies, including a couple of their Danish pastries which were massively reduced, it being the end of the day – they didn’t last long. The checkout girl recommended the White Hart Hotel for a decent meal, which I’d passed on my scout about, so I made my way there past the docks.

Campbeltown port with lots of timber ready to be shipped

I passed the port where a lot of the trees I’d seen on the back of trucks, or stacked up at the bottom of deforested hillsides, seem to have ended up. At least there’s a decent replanting programme and it seems to be well managed, although it takes about 30 years for the trees to get to harvestable size, and must increase the risk of landslides.

Locking my bike outside the White Hart I got down to the serious business of food, and a beer to help alleviate my dented morale. I ordered the Louisiana Spicy Chicken pizza, based on the bar staff’s recommendation, and wasn’t disappointed; it was huge and tasted delicious.

Campbeltown – pizza at White Hart Hotel

The hotel and bar wasn’t expensive, and the staff friendly, so suddenly the day seemed a lot better, especially with a portion size finally worthy of a long distance cyclist’s appetite. I’d have struggled to finish the pizza a few month’s ago, but it disappeared quickly and I felt ready to venture forth once again.

Refuelled I set out for Southend and the Mull of Kintyre, at the southern point of the peninsula. The rain set in about half a mile out of Campbeltown, and with the wind made things rather unpleasant. Spray being kicked up by passing cars meant I was soon pretty wet, including soggy feet. I covered the 10 miles to Southend fairly slowly, but it was worth it, being greeted by a fairly dramatic coastline.

Mull of Kintyre

Sea off Southend pretty stormy

I rode around to Carsley Bay and stopped for a look at the Kiel Caves, and St Columba’s footsteps and Well. I disturbed a lot of roosting pigeons in the cave, which might have been quite a good spot to camp if it hadn’t been for the amount of guano, it was certainly sheltered from the wind and rain, but a bit too squishy and smelly!

Kiel Caves

Kiel Caves – inside a bit smelly

St Columba’s footsteps

I reckon the footstep was about a size 8 Wellington boot, but that’s probably slightly blasphemous – I’m sure he wore sandals. I made a wish at the Well for a good place to camp, kind of worked I guess.

St Columba’s Well

Carsley Bay

Mull of Kintyre panorama

A large and dilapidated looking dirty white building up on the hillside was making me slightly nervous. It looked very out of place, and maybe was once a hotel, maybe it still is. I wouldn’t stay there, it looked spooky and was probably full of vampires; Hotel of the Damned maybe – there’s a short story there I reckon.

I’d been aiming for a campsite in Southend, but it turned out to be a caravan site only. I could have perhaps squeezed into a spot on the coast beside it, but there were several no camping signs, and I didn’t want to sleep in the shadow of the spooky building anyway, plus the coastline was getting blasted by the wind. I decided to save money and wild camp somewhere inland for the night, preferably somewhere a bit drier.

Pedalling out of Southend I turned on to the minor road that would eventually loop back around the coast to Campbeltown, via a different route to the one that had brought me here. In the driving wind and rain, with water seeping into places it had no business to seep into, I had to tackle a couple of pretty challenging hills in my search for a campsite. I could feel my back wheel starting to go again too, perfect timing. With streams starting to flow down the road I eventually found a suitable spot, if not particularly dry, near a patch off woodland. It would have been a beautiful view if not for the weather, but at least it was keeping the midges away.

It was a relief to get my tent up and pile inside, stuffing my panniers and wet stuff into the porch area. I was pretty damp, the rain having dripped inside my waterproof, and my socks needed wringing out.

Wild camp in hills near Southend 1

Wild camp in hills near Southend 2

Reckon my tent was pretty camouflaged from any hunting vampires, although they’d be unlikely to be out in this weather, their makeup would run!

I got into some dry stuff and retreated into my inner sanctum, getting cosy for the night and trying to dry a few things out using body heat, which is effective but not entirely comfortable. I decided to leave wheel straightening until the morning, when hopefully the rain would have stopped (haha). I snacked on a few biscuits and some cheese, listening to the bad weather lashing against my tent, which fortunately doesn’t leak, and putting on a few extra layers to combat the chill evening. I really didn’t want to have to venture outside to the loo, and thankfully fell asleep before I needed to.

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.

Cape Wrath Lighthouse and Ozone Cafe

The Lighthouse

Cape Wrath foghorn

View from hilltop down to Lighthouse

Another lighthouse shot

Cape Wrath – dramatic cliffs

Cape Wrath – dramatic coastline

Cape Wrath – sun going down

Cape Wrath – Red Deer coming joint me for the evening

Cape Wrath – Swallow or House Martin?

Cape Wrath – Deer silhouetted

Cape Wrath – Sunset

Cape Wrath – Sunset 2

Cape Wrath – Lighthouse on

Cape Wrath – Spring spaniel patrol

Ozone Cafe – wild salmon dinner

The Ozone Cafe

Too many pictures

Edited with BlogPad Pro

Leg 22 – to Loch Ness via Inverness

4 Replies

A trying day…

22 May 2013

I woke up slightly later than anticipated at 08.30, the latest I’ve ever slept in so far in my tent. I’m not sure why but might have been because it was overcast so still quite dim inside my exceedingly cosy tent. I had breakfast looking out for red squirrels, but couldn’t see any. They must have decided it was a good day to stay in bed too, so no photos of my elusive quarry yet.

I was packed up and ready to go by 09.45, post refilling water bottles and a final loo stop. I drink quite a lot of water in the mornings but consequently I always need the loo about an hour later, which can get annoying when you have multiple layers and a cycling bib on. It’s not warm enough to sweat much at the moment, which I suppose is a good thing, but maybe I could cut down on water consumption as a result.

Delnies – packed and ready for another day, with banana attachment

From the relatively sheltered campsite I waved goodbye to the owners and pedalled off into a headwind, joy of joys, it looked like it was going to be another one of those days. I rode down to Ardersier and then up to Fort George, stopping briefly to shelter from a heavy shower that moved through from the North – found a convenient shrubbery (it was quite a verdant shrubbery incidentally).

Fort George is a working barracks and I could hear the sound of live firing from quite a distance away, single shots interspersed with automatic bursts, so sounded like they were practicing on the ranges – the red flags were up to confirm this. I rode up to the massive edifice that is Fort George in a fierce squall, quickly cycling into the entrance tunnel to gain some shelter. It’s an impressive fort, built in the 18th century post the quashing of the last Jacobite uprising, don’t think it was ever needed in anger but it does dominate the area and would have provided a significant deterrent to any trouble makers. I had a look around the bit you don’t have to pay for, but decided not to pay the £8.50 to look around any further; would have been interesting but taken a few hours, and I wanted to make some decent progress today. Few photos below, the layout reminded me of playing Total War on my computer; I’ve defended and attacked many of a similar design and they proved pretty formidable bastions on both accounts.

Fort George – inner drawbridge

Fort George – cannons, there were lots of them

Fort George – view from battlements

Fort George – turret view

As you can see from the photos I was experiencing a variety of weather. It was sunny one minute, then throwing it down the next, with hail mixed in. All a bit melodramatic. I’ve given the Scottish weather a personality I’m competing against. It’s doing everything it can to try and stop me, throwing in dirty tricks like changing the wind direction, and I’m constantly trying to thwart it and pedal on. Bit odd but the competition makes it more bearable. We’ll see what its next plan of attack though; I’m thinking of it as a mixed up teenager at present, changing it’s mind and generally being awkward!

From Fort George I pedalled down the Moray Firth, looking for dolphins that are supposed to frequent these waters in large numbers. It was high tide and they probably would have been more likely to make an appearance when the tide was running, hunting for salmon which apparently irritates the local fishermen no end; bet the dolphins were here first though. Didn’t see any but nice view.

Moray Firth – no dolphins

The next bit of the leg was a little bit trying, teenage angst must have been setting in as the weather decided to unleash several squalls of chilling rain, followed by bright sunshine that quickly overheated me on the long climb up to Culloden Moor. I didn’t want to bother taking any layers off though as I knew the weather would change its mind again in a minute. I made it to Culloden Battlefield and stopped at the visitor centre for lunch, soup and a burger. A bit pricey, and not the best food I’ve ever eaten but was nice to get inside. I didn’t look around the centre as it costs £10, and again I didn’t want to spend three hours doing so. Several coach loads of tourists also turned up thronging the place with Germans, Japanese and Americans, all intent on using the toilet then the restaurant. Wanting to avoid the crowds I beat a hasty retreat – accidentally dropped my iPad when repacking my bike, it’s slightly dented and the volume sticks, but still seems to work.

From Culloden I cycled to Inverness, descending from the moor in more turbulent weather, which was starting to get a little draining. I’d been turning the air blue for the last hour or so, dredging up a few special insults for my teenage weather nemesis I need to get a name for; can’t decide if they’re male or female though. Name suggestions on a postcard (or comment) please.

As fortune would have it I discovered the Velocity Cafe and Bicycle Workshop on the way into Inverness, completely by accident, so I stopped for a cup of tea and a chat. Great cafe and staff, obviously cycling themed. The girls gave me a few tips on my route to Loch Ness, where I intended to wild camp that evening, directing me to Dores. This avoided the A82 on the north side, which is apparently a little hazardous for cyclists, being very busy.

Welcome break in Velocity Cafe

Velocity Cafe and Bicycle Workshop – pop in if you’re passing

I spent a while in the cafe before heading in to Inverness revitalised to hunt for a few bits and pieces, including a new cable for my Power Monkey, to connect it to the solar panel – the cable has fractured somehow. I spent a while trying a few different shops, so got to see quite a bit of Inverness, including one of the retail parks a few miles out of town where there’s a Maplins. No joy on the cable front but bought a few supplies and I like Inverness, has a nice feel to it. I’ll have to order the cable online and get it somewhere on route, but that’s going to take a bit of organising; I’ll add it to the list with the Garmin on it.

Inverness high street

Inverness castle

Post Inverness I took the B862 down to Dores, temporarily leaving the coast to go monster hunting. The rain, hail and wind dropped off in the lee of the hills as I approached Loch Ness, I was definitely in the Highlands now, passing through some lovely countryside, and up and down a few hills.

Sun on beech trees

I reached Dores and cycled on for a bit, taking in some of the loch and beautiful scenery, as well as scoping out a site to camp for the evening. Satisfied I’d found a suitable location I returned to Dores and the Inn, recommended by the Velocity Cafe, for dinner and a couple of pints, plus a cheeky dram. Dinner consisted of oven roasted salmon on ham risotto, and was truly excellent. I chatted with a few of the other patrons, both locals and visitors. Thanks for the tips on the route and things to see Ryan!

I also met a couple on holiday from Houghton-le-Spring, somewhere I’d camped a couple of weeks ago, small world. They were interested in my ride, having lost one of their sons to leukaemia a few years ago. Was good to have a chat with people who’d had similar experiences, and was interested to hear about his charity ride of a few years ago, via several forces bases to Germany I think. All the more impressive seeing as he has one prosthetic leg from the knee down – a result of a childhood accident involving a bus. Sounds like that was a great ride with some good company in the form of squaddies, dangerous drinking pals.

Post the pub I retreated to the site I’d spotted earlier. It was a little damp underfoot but found a firm spot and set up, bedding own for the evening in a very peaceful location overlooking the loch, with the rain pattering down through the trees.

On up the coast tomorrow but I’ll finish with a few photos from Loch Ness.

Loch Ness 1

Loch Ness 2

Loch Ness 3

Loch Ness 4

Loch Ness 5

Loch Ness 6 – with mini Nessies. Sign said this was then dwelling of a dedicated Nessie hunter who’d been on watch for about 17 years!

Loch Ness 7 – sun going down

Loch Ness 8 – me

Loch Ness 9

Loch Ness 10 – wild camp

Only about 43 miles today, but hard won, in spite of my weather nemesis. No monsters to report on the loch.

Edited with BlogPad Pro

Leg 13 – to Tentsmuir Forest via St. Andrews

4 Replies

13 May 2013

I awoke to a cold and windy morning post a good night’s sleep. It wasn’t raining although precipitation was forecast for later on, whether that be rain, hail or sleet remained to be seen. Breakfasted on oatcakes and cheese, berocca substitute and fruit, and felt set for the day. Oatcakes are a good find as they fit in my panniers easily in their individual packets, and contain plenty of the right sort of carbs, and cheese is always a win.

With the weather looking like it was going to do much the same as yesterday I packed up my thankfully dry tent, stuffed kit in my panniers, and was on the road by 10am. I’m definitely getting into a routine on this, and getting more efficient at what goes where and keeping things organised. It’s really annoying if you can’t remember which pannier you’ve put something in when you need it in a hurry, and you end up going through them all until you find what you want.

Ready to go, bit windy though

Taking advantage of a tailwind I made good progress along the coast, through Elie, St. Monans, and on to Anstruther where it started raining, just a shower and already had my waterproof on.

St Monans or Elie 1

St. Monans I think

The showers were to continue on throughout the morning and into the early afternoon, and the temperature really drops when they pass through so had to pedal vigorously! A lot of the coastal towns and villages I pedalled through reminded me of those down in Cornwall where we used to go on hols when I was a child. They’re stuck on to the coastline, with neat little harbours for fishing boats, a church, cottages and of course at least one pub. I guess the towns around here sprung up on similar sorts of enterprises to those in the south west; fishing, farming or mining.

I pedalled on to Crail where I took a diversion out to the point – Fife Ness, where there’s yet another golf club. I wanted to see the point but regretted it slightly when I had to ride back to the route into a fierce headwind.

Fife Ness – another golf course

Feeling peckish I got back on to the A917 and continued around to St. Andrews, into a partial headwind and at times driving rain that came lashing down with a vengeance. Could have sworn there was a bit of hail mixed with it too as it left my face stinging. I arrived in St. Andrews as the sun came out, and had a quick scout around, immediately liking the town. Nipped into Boots and bought some vaseline, with Aloe Vera (well posh), for my lips and nose which were suffering slightly from the adverse weather. Also bought a few provisions from Sainsburys, using a £2 brand match voucher that was about to go out of date. For those organised people this won’t sound like much of an achievement, however remembering to use supermarket vouchers is a big thing for me, so was quite chuffed with my savings!

Lots of students and tourists in St. Andrews giving it a good atmosphere. One busker playing an accordion, very well, no goblin tendencies as far as I could tell.

I found a lovely cafe for lunch and proceeded to spend the next couple of hours there. Jannettas is a great little establishment, serving reasonably priced and wholesome food.

Jannettas – a welcome break. Bean soup, coronation chicken baguette, hot chocolate and peppermint tea, all for about £14.

As they had wifi I also caught up on my blog, but had to finally drag myself away to get to my campsite in reasonable time.

I noticed St. Andrews has a Gold Gilt award. I’d been seeing these awards as I made my way around the coast in various towns and villages, but only seen bronze and silver to date. I assume they’re to do with general attractiveness of the town, tourist appeal, tidiness etc. Gold definitely deserved for St. Andrews, even if it’s just because of the lack of goblins or trolls.

On my way out I cycled past the cathedral, destroyed in the reformation, and the castle, destroyed in the independence wars and apparently the site of various burnings at the stake and murders. A prominent Protestant was killed there, then his mates all got together and killed the catholic Cardinal (Beaton, who had a mistress, is that catholic?), and set up their own Protestant parish. There were various sieges and French assaults as well, all very dramatic and I imagine you can get a far better account on Wikipedia. Few pictures below.

St. Andrews Cathedral 1

St. Andrews Cathedral 2

St. Andrews Castle

St. Andrews Castle plus Lobster

St. Andrews Castle 2

Cycled around a bit more of St. Andrews, including the golf course seeing as it’s a famous one – road all the way down to the estuary and view point, seeing a few jets take off from RAF Leuchars, and back again enjoying the sunshine. Then watched a few people teeing off from the prodigious clubhouse which has words such as ‘ancient’ in its title, must be posh. Wasn’t so impressed when a bloke in his Chelsea tractor nearly flattened when he turned out of their car park whilst on his mobile phone though.

St. Andrews golf course

Note sunshine out, a rarity.

Scenic St. Andrews view from viewpoint

Leaving St. Andrews via a nice cycle path running alongside the A91, I cycled on to Guardbridge and over the River Eden, watching more Euro Fighters play cat and mouse in the sky overhead. Rode past the RAF base where my Dad was once stationed (a few years ago now ;)) and on to Tentsmuir Forest where I wanted to spend the night wild camping. It was a really nice ride through the forest and down to the beach where the sun was still shining, clouds and rain over St. Andrews now but it was going out to sea so I was saved another soaking. Apparently Dad used to get chucked into the sea off the coast here, for Air Sea Rescue drills, looked abut chilly for that sort of activity to me.

Tentsmuir Forest beach, looking back to St. Andrews

Making my way through the forest I collected some birch bark for at experiment later (doesn’t harm the tree). Nice ride down good trails, smoother than some of the roads I’d been on! I stopped just past Tentsmuir Point at a landmark called the Ice House, which is a perfect place to camp. Didn’t see another soul for the rest of the evening.

Bike in Tentsmuir

Tentsmuir wild camp – watch out for midges, ice house in background

The Ice House was built in 1858, or thereabouts, and was used to store salmon caught in the area, using ice saved from winter. It’s derelict now but home to a colony of Natterer Bats I hoped to see later. Was slightly concerned it might also be home to trolls, and whilst I’ve watched troll hunter I’d forgotten my UV light kit.

Tentsmuir Forest has been home to people for thousands of years, from the Mesolithic period through to the Picts, Romans, Vikings and beyond. A group of sailors, Dutch I think, got shipwrecked of the coast here and set up home, initially in tents, which is where it’s current name came from (Tents Moor). Poles were stationed here in the second world war and built tank traps and bunkers. Then the forestry commission bought it and planted pines. Interesting nature reserve along the dunes with cool species of plants and animals, where you can learn about succession if you’re that way inclined, took me back to biology field trips.

I had a cold supper eating provisions bought from St. Andrews, accompanied by a hot cup of peppermint tea. It stays light a lot longer up here, compared with Norfolk anyway, so although chilly enjoyed a nice peaceful evening in the forest, about 200 yards from the dunes and sea.

I wanted to experiment with trying to light a fire using only flint and steel, which is why I collected the Birch bark earlier. Found and sandy hole and after a few minutes had success. Silver Birch bark makes the best tinder, at least in the UK.

Man made fire!

The forestry commission don’t like fires in or near their woods so I quickly put it out, and made sure it was out. Shame as it was a chilly evening, and could have been handy if anyway unwelcome guests of a trollish nature turned up.

Had an early ish night after waiting up to see the bats, they didn’t appear, making me wonder if there were indeed trolls in the ice house.

Only did about 47 miles today, but nice to have a slower day and have a couple of big legs coming up.

Edited with BlogPad Pro

Bike Around Britain

Blog on cycling around the coast of Britain

Tag Archives: wild camping

Leg 73 – to East Dean

Leg 44 – to Campbell Town, Southend and the Mull of Kintyre

Leg 31 – to Cape Wrath

Leg 22 – to Loch Ness via Inverness

Leg 13 – to Tentsmuir Forest via St. Andrews