I nearly failed at the first hurdle planning transport to the start of my trip. There were no bike spaces on the Oban train so I had to get a last minute extra day off and book digs in Oban for Friday night. This meant I could get the early sailing on the Saturday to Lochboisdale rather than the later one so would give more riding time. The train was full of middle aged women returning from a gig in Glasgow but the scenery was a fine distraction as this is quite a train journey, the line threading a torturous route through various glens. I got to Oban at 5, checked into the hostel and then had a few beers in a pub I'd discovered a few years back on a works trip; followed by a fish tea on the sea front whilst watching the view. Annoyingly my nights sleep wasn't as the place was full of pissed rugby fans up there for a rugby league game.
I was up early the next morning and made as much noise as possible as I exited for the ferry terminal (revenge is sweet but I doubt anyone noticed). It was misty but there was that cool stillness in the air which hinted at a fine day. The ferry departed on time and I tucked straight into a Calmac full breakfast. Then it was up on deck for the whole 5 hour crossing to watch the stunning scenery of the Minches. I saw dolphins, many seals, a minky whale and countless sea birds. The hassles of the previous months evaporated with the mist.
I stocked up on food at the shop at Loch Boisdale and the small amount of traffic on the ferry disappeared. So as I pedaled west away from the village I had the road to myself. Nav was easy - there is only one road. Turning north, I cruised along effortlessly in the sunshine, in no rush, barely a breath of wind and the island views opening out before me. I experienced a feeling of total serenity, no cares, no stress and a big grin on my face. I had no detailed plans, just to ride my bike through this beguiling landscape, but I wanted to check out a track on the west coast which I'd read went most of the way up South Uist. Bits of it didn't seem to be on the map so I elected to pick it up a bit further north.
The landscape is unique - generally flat with low bumps, countless marshes and small lochans. Houses were scattered randomly in all directions. To the east were series of rocky hills in the 150-200m range. After a few leisurely miles during which I further relaxed I turned off the 'main' road and onto a back road to the coast.
The beaches here are stunning - white sand and not a soul to be seen.
I followed this road round the coast and then left the tarmac at Howmore. There is a small hostel here run by the Gatliff Trust and affiliated to the SYHA. There are a few of these on the Western Isles and I planned to visit one the following night.
The bike - not the most ideal touring machine but comfy enough. I would have been better on my Surly Cross Check but several years commuting had left it in dire need of TLC so the on-one seemed a better bet given my desire to bag some trails on my route.
This track went for a few k until it petered out at Stilligarry and I returned to the main road. South Uist, Benbecula and North Uist are all linked by causeways built in the 70's making road access easy across all three islands and massively improving community and social life for the islanders. I passed the first one of these and headed west round the coast of Benbecula
I didn't see one!
When you look West the next land is America. Benbecula has many more houses than South Uist but its still pretty quiet. The main town of Balivanich was a bit grim looking and somewhat random in its layout. I passed straight through and kept on across Grimsay and then North Uist. I'd vaguely thought of heading to the small Island of Baleshare, also linked by a causeway, for a wild camp but a mile or so up the road I saw a sign indicating a campsite so took the easy option. I'm glad I did as it was a gem. There is a big problem in the Islands with people turning up in camper vans and parking them up anywhere and everywhere. They usually have all there food with them so contribute little to the local economy, leaving behind only waste. The Council offers small grants to crofters to establish basic camp sites and camper van hook ups to try and manage the 'wild' camping of vans and generate some income. This one had a campers kitchen and a bunkhouse. It was a pleasant evening and no one else was camping so I pitched up and had the kitchen to myself. Distance for today only 36 easy miles.
Next morning was misty and damp but the cloud lifted as I departed. I continued north around the coast noting with amusement the Sunday rush hour at church start time. Sundays on North Uist, Harris and Lewis have to be well planned as nothing is open, all thanks to the prevalence of the somewhat conservative Free Church of Scotland who make the Catholic church look like a bunch of left wing liberals. That said the ferrys now run on Sundays so at least I could continue my journey north.
Farmers truck heading across the sand to the isle of Vallay
As I made tea in the ferry waiting room, I eyed my fellow passengers, all in cars or campers and many giving me sidelong looks, possibly wondering how I could be out in such wilds without a roof over my head. I felt absurdly smug knowing I had all I needed to eat and sleep in two small bags and a tent.
The Bernaray to Leverburgh ferry runs a torturous route around a myriad of islets in very shallow water. There is talk of a further causeway to link North Uist to Harris but the costs, so far, have proven unattainable. I hope it remains so as this would doubtless encourage more camper vans given the cost saving. My Island hopper ticket had cost a mere £25 but its 4 times that for a car (although this is subsidised heavily to encourage more tourism) so a bike is clearly the best way to travel on these islands. The deckhand on the ferry agreed telling me in no uncertain terms that islanders prefer cyclists to camper vans!
Leaving the ferry at Leverburgh the cloud was thickening and the westerley breeze increasing. I headed up the west coast as I wanted to check out the beaches but in the event the only rain so far kept me on the bike. The road turns east after a few miles and the east coast was clearer and dryer - should have done the east coast road!
Descending down to Tarbert the wind increased further blowing banks of cloud over the hills. Tarbert itself was empty and everything, including the public loos, was shut. I ate food in the shelter of the Tourist office and headed out. The last time I'd been on the next section of road was on a motorbike in 2002. I'd vaguely recalled a bit of a hill after Tarbert which was indicated on my 250k map but in reality it was a fair old climb - sea level to 190m. Not that bad in the grand scheme of things but the mist was down so I couldn't see what was around me which always makes a climb seem higher than it is. Just after the summit the cloud lifted and hills appeared out of the murk. South Harris is the most mountainous of all of the Western Isles and its dramatic after the flatness of the Uists.
I noted a road to my right climbing over a pass from a sea inlet. Only after looking at my map did I realise this was my route. I was heading for a Gatliff hostel at Rhenigidale which was on the east coast. So I had to drop all the way back to sea level, climb back up to 190m and then descend back to sea level. The best bit was that this was a dead end road so I would have to reverse this the next day.
In the event it was straight forward and the weather was improving by the mile. I finally made the hostel at about 5 and it was a gem. A small building but with two downstairs rooms and three dorms up stairs. Two other couples were staying but one of them was camping so I had a room to myself. I could have camped as well but took the soft option as it was only another couple of quid. The sun was now shining so I dried my tent as I cooked tea outside whilst reading my book. All in all it had been a good day doing around 65 miles. The other residents - all ageing SYHA regulars - seemed envious of my undertaking. They had all been there in their youths but were now stuck with car travel to get around. More smugness..
Next days destination was Stornoway and the ferry to Ullapool. It was only 35 miles and other than the two big climbs to get back to the main road, easy going. These passed without incident but on the main road north I had a stiff headwind. So much for the previous days south-westerly and it was cool to boot. Still I made good time and arrived at the ferry terminal early.
Obviously on the trip I had more excellent Calmac food and enjoyed more views and sea life. Many times I've sat at the campsite at Ullapool and watched the ships come in from Lewis so it was great to finally be on it. You sail in via the Summer Isles which make for some tight sailing for such a big ship. I'd toured these on a small boat the previous year so it was strange to see them from on high. I'd no further plans bike riding wise that day so pitched up in the campsite and headed into the town. Fortuitously I managed to source another book from the wee book shop just up from the harbour, having finished the one I'd brought with me the previous evening. This book was then bagged up and posted home! Then it was food and a few beers at the Seaforth and then a finish up in the Ceilidh place where I got chatting to a guy walking the Cape Wrath Trail (a 250 mile route from Fort William to Cape Wrath no less) so it was nearly midnight when I eventually crashed out.
The next morning was cool, breezy but bright. I packed up and headed north on the A835. I've ridden this road a few times on various motorbikes, most recently a month ago in blazing sunshine - later that day it had hit 28 degrees. Today it was less than half that with a stiff north easterly. Its a bit of a grind on a bicycle to be honest. Short but steep climbs that are whisked up on a motor bike seem to take an age on a loaded bicycle. I have cycled most of the next bit on various occasions but this time was a first doing the whole lot in one go. After a couple of said climbs you turn off on the wee road to Achiltibuie. By contrast to the '835 this is a corker on a bike with ace views of lochs and mountains, including the well know pimple that is Stac Pollaidh.
Achilltibuie is worth a visit but today I was heading north on the Inverkirkaig road. This is another biking belter. After climbing over a low pass with views to Suilven it descends to the coast which it hugs for many miles. The weather had been a bit iffy to this point with a couple of brief showers coming in but as I traversed this ace road the sun shone.
Sea, road, cliff!
There are a few short sharp climbs on this road but unlike the engineered uniformity of the '835, these are a more entertaining mix of ups, downs, round and rounds. You pass through the small hamlet of Inverkirkaig then its the biggest climb of the lot and a final fun descent to Lochinver. I and friends had stayed in a chalet in Inverkirkaig in 1996 and this road saw a few passes by bike. Myself and another also got our bikes up to the summit of Suilven - a feat never before achieved (I think).
Rolling into Lochinver it was definitely chilly after the descent so I dived into the public loos and pulled on a base layer. This enabled me to sit in the sun eating a large panini full of various fried pig derivatives bought from a caravan which is a regular at this spot. Cake and coffee followed and then it was onwards for more helter skelter road riding.
Viewpoint a few miles out of Lochinver. These hills are some of the oldest in the world - around a billion years or so....
The Drumbeg road has a bit of a reputation hereabouts. I'd ridden it all previously but the years had blurred my memory of it. To Drumbeg itself its not too bad - a couple of biggish climbs but overall OK and the scenery is unique - rock covered in rocks basically with a constantly varying coastline and views of Lewis coming and going in and out of the rain showers out to sea. At Drumbeg I stopped for an afternoon snack to fortify me for the next section.
Beyond Drumbeg the 250k road map showed more arrows but this utterly failed to communicate the actuality of the climbs. They just kept coming. You'd grind your way to the top of one, bomb down the other side and then you'd be hit in the face by the next tarmac wall. Eventually I gave up thinking "this must be the last one" and just pedaled. Even when I spied the Kylesku bridge I figured it wasn't over yet. Nope, just a couple more ups and downs and then finally the descent back to the A835.
The Kylesku Bridge. I first crossed it in 1988 on a family holiday to Kinlochbervie a year after it was finished. It replaced a small flat bottomed ferry and marked the end of a major project to upgrade the whole A835 between Ullapool and Rhiconich further north.
From here there were more steady ups and downs in the sun, finally arriving in Scourie at 5, 65 miles done with my legs feeling it after all the climbing. The tent was pitched in the lea of a wall as it was pretty breezy and I cooked tea in the tent thanks to a final passing shower. That said it was dry as I sat out eating food and drinking tea and wondering what to do next. Go to the pub was the obvious answer and the Scourie hotel was a good one with a couple of good ales on (Tradewinds!) of which I sampled a few and allowed me to really think about my onward route.
The original plan had been to head for Durness if the weather was going to be OK. But in the event the weather wasn't looking too good and I was heading into the worst of it. I'd prepared for the cold thankfully but wasn't fussed about battling into wind and rain. Heading east seemed the best bet and this would mean some great roads, one track to make a big short cut and hopefully a nice big tailwind.
The next morning justified my decision as looking north revealed only black clouds. I kept north for a bit longer to Laxford Bridge and then with a last glance at the ever stunning west coast scenery turned south east.
The weather held off for a bit but after passing the small community of Achfary the first of several rain showers came in. I'd only been on this road once before, driving up to Kinlochbervie on that family holiday in '88. That had been a long day with seemingly endless miles of single track roads to negotiate before we finally reached our cottage.
Ben Stack and Arkle appeared briefly between showers. I'd hidden under some trees near Loch Merkland for a particularly heavy shower but it was clear there was no avoiding it so pressed on. Further along the road was a turn off for a track I hoped to follow over into Glen Cassley. I'd no idea what this would be like and whether the 45mm road tyres I'd bunged on the bike just before departure would be up to the job. Continuing on the road would have been fine as its a great wee road with no traffic but in the spirit of adventure I made the turn at the top of Loch Shin.
It was almost an anticlimax - the 'track' was surfaced, obviously part of the Scottish Hydro Electric infrastructure. Almost - it made a fearsome climb away from the loch and yet another monster shower chose its moment well hitting me just as I approached the summit.
There were two tents pitched right at the top by the road in the most exposed location imaginable. Maybe they were trying to avoid the midges but so far on this trip they had been totally absent, all thanks to the late frosts in both April and May. Descending into the Glen dropped me out of the cloud and rain and into pleasanter climes.
Oddly beyond a dam and various buildings the tarmac stopped and the track was a more usual stony surface. The marathons rolled over it all fine and after a short steep climb and a descent taken at excessive speed I rejoined the public road by a lodge house. The ride down Glen Cassley barely required a pedal thanks to a monster tailwind. As hoped it was drying up as I headed east with blue sky ahead. At Rosehall I took shelter from the wind in a strange structure in a Forestry Commission car park that housed the usual interpretation panels describing the local flora and fauna and noting the areas particular suffering during the clearances of the early 19th century. The duke of sutherland was largely responsible and local memories are still very sore on the subject.
I was now on A road again but it was near empty, even when it joined the main A836. I've motor biked this road too from the North coast and its a blast. I missed out the metropolis of Bonar Bridge hoping to score a cafe in Ardgay that I and friends had used at new year a few years previously when we'd stayed at a nearby holiday cottage. In the event it was long since shut but there was a new one next door. It was of the overpriced cafe cum craft shop type but I was past caring after the wilds of Sutherland so tucked into coffee, soup and cake whilst idly chatting up the proprietress.
I also had the wherewithal to check out the map and suss out my nights stopping point. The black rock gorge campsite at Evanton seemed an ideal spot and had come recommended by my pal Iona. Between me and it was either the A9T or a large road climb. Hey ho, its not like I wasn't used to it and I'd have a nice tailwind. So I headed along the road from Ardgay, passed the cottage we'd stayed at (a very snowy new year that one) and started on the long and steady climb up what is locally known as the Struie road.
Another climb, another rain shower..... It was all coming from behind so of little consequence. Passing over the moor it cleared up again and southwards looked sunny. The descent was fun, particularly the double S-bend over a narrow bridge. Before you hit the A9 you turn off onto NCN1 which follows a back road to Evanton. I rolled into the campsite, checked in and pitched up then hit the co-op for much food. I'd done 80 odd miles that day so I'd earned it and the beers I drank in the local pub.
Another day, another pitch.
The next morning was a bit grey but undeterred I headed off, keeping on NCN1 to Dingwall. Obviously I had to have a second breakfast in a nice cafe here and then it was south on the NCN.
This follows a mix of back roads and cycleways beside the busy A835 (that road again) to Tore services. For once I missed out on the greasy spoon cafe at the garage and kept on south on what would have been a very early incarnation of the A9 (now a fast dual carriageway). You duck under this to North Kessock and then climb back up to use the footway over the Kessock Bridge before dropping down to the outskirts of Inverness. The route through Inverness is a bit convoluted, as is often the case for the NCN, and also involved riding up the busy ped zone against a no entry sign. No-one minded but I was a bit shocked at all of these people after the solitude of the Westerns Isles and the North West.
Finally I left them all behind on the NCN (now 7) which climbs steadily out of the town. A quick map appraisal indicated that NCN7 followed a lengthy route to avoid the worst of the hill but I spied a short cut which would miss a chunk of miles and didn't look to bad hill wise. This is the first time I've done this bit of NCN 7. I was involved in its creation during my sustrans days (well in an advisory capacity as it was very much a Scottish Office gig) but never actually got to ride it. Its good. Most of it is on road, including sections of the old A9, but these are roads which see little traffic. The last section to Tomatin is on a purpose built cycleway in the wide A9 verges.
I'd been watered a few times over the day but got a shock when I saw this - enough hail stones to leave an icy surface on the path.
Approaching Tomatin I noted a particularly black cloud approaching from behind so dived into a bus shelter and brewed tea whilst the torrential downpour struck. This seemed to clear things out though as thereafter it stayed dry. The mix of roadside cycleway and old road continues to Slochd. You can carry on down the old road if you want but a far better route is to follow the 'mountainbikes only' route to Carrbridge by the river Dulnain. This had been one of my projects when I worked for Sustrans and is a fine route following smooth estate roads (they weren't originally but I made them smooth!) and crosses a fine old Wades bridge which was restored as part of the scheme.
Sluggan Bridge and the river Dulnain
Thereafter its another nice track and the back road into Carrbridge. From here the route disappears back into the woods and over a reasonable climb and descent to the A95 near Boat of Garten. New since I was last here was a cycleway alongside the road to Boat. Then it was another piece of my handiwork on a great dust cycleway by the Strathspey Railway from Boat of Garten to Dalfaber on the north side of Aviemore.
My friend Rob and Iona stay here and I was looking forward to a pleasant evening eating and drinking in the Ski-an-Dubh restaurant, 60 miles done.
The Cairngorms with much snow from the monster winter in evidence. Skiing was still taking place and the previous day had seen more substantial snow falls on high. As I was technically a day ahead of myself I spent the Friday relaxing and wandering round Aviemore, taking time to sample the beer in the Old Bridge Inn!
Iona wanted to join me for part of my southwards route. The plan was to follow NCN7 on its backroad route to just past Inch, and then do the Gaik pass which misses a big loop of the A9 out. Iona was on her newly acquired Salsa Fargo and was keen to try it on some proper dirt. The weather was warmer and whilst cloudy seemed dry with no immediate rain clouds visible. Its a great wee road south and heading along Glen Tromie is a joy, particularly with a nice tailwind and sunshine.
I've done the Gaik a few times over the years and its a great route. Most of it is on a good track with one short singletrack section.
A nice low river crossing
Iona traversing a large area of washed out river bed.
The start of the single track - fun on 45mm road tyres and panniers!
Iona not quite on it....
We passed a group of mountain bikers who seemed a bit shocked at my panniers and Ionas drop bars. Overall the trail passed without incident, including the double crossing of the Edendon Water by Sronphadruig. Then it was the easy roll out down the track. The wind had been backing south all morning so it was with a sense of inevitability that a large rain cloud greeted us as we finished the last section of the descent. This suited Iona as she was heading back north on the A9 cycle route to brighter climes. For me it was a case of waterproofs on and get on with it.
To be fair it was actually shortlived and it had cleared up as I descended into Glen Errochty. Up and over again into the Rannoch Glen and then it was steady climb over to Loch Tayside. There was a campsite marked on the map near the start of the descent to Coshieville but as I passed it was all closed up. Hmm, where to camp? I had previously stayed at a site in Kenmore but I had a feeling it was also now shut. A campsite was marked at Aberfeldy so this would have to do.
Arriving did not fill me with much joy. It was one of those huge ones filled with caravans, campervans and huge family sized tents. My tiny one person backpacker tent looked lost in the great big one size fits all pitch I'd been allocated. Amusingly several people came by to congratulate me on being the only person in the whole vast site to arrived under their own steam. I just felt self conscious as I thought back to my lonely pitch on North Uist at the small but perfectly formed campsite there with me the only occupant. Still; folks were having fun despite the iffy weather so I put up and shut up.
At least I could make use of the Aberfeldy Co-op for lots of food and drink. So I retired to my tent with all of this and consciously ignored all around me. The day had been another 60 miler and I was starting to feel the cumulative distance. Tomorrow I'd be home.
Cosy shelter
That night it rained heavily and getting up to go to the loo and back without getting everything wet took a fair bit of finessing. Thank god I'd had generally dry nights to this point as its impossible to keep the inside of such a small tent dry for very long if you are coming and going in the rain.
That said the next morning was bright and sunny again. I packed up for the last time and departed the site sharpish before anyone else was up. The route home was one I'd oft used on a motorbike - A826 to Amulree, over the open moor on the A822 to the Sma glen, turn off this onto a B then a wee road crossing the A85 and then various back roads to Dunning. I was on familiar territory now having biked these roads many times. The rain had to have one last say - an annoying light sprinkle that seemed to be coming from a clear sky and wouldn't stop - a Scottish water torture? But it was dry as I finished my day and got home in the early afternoon, 55 miles done.
Total mileage was 460 odd miles which I'm quite pleased at in 8 days of riding given its the first tour I've done since '90. I dealt with a range of weather and generally had an incredibly relaxing time. The bike was far from ideal and the Cross Check would probably have been a better bet. A bit of map appraisal since I've got back suggests that there is a huge scope for tours which include various good tracks, all around Scotland, so missing out the usual A road grinds. I reckon a rigid 29er with tyres like my pal Iona has on her Fargo (WTB wolverines) would be the tool for this, so maybe I'll have to go shopping later this year.....
