It was early September and for a change the weather was nice. Id actually gone on a rare (for this year) ride on the motorbike up to Rannoch station, one of my favourite roads. As I sat a hundred metres along the track to Loch Laidon, drinking tea and looking at the view west to Glen Coe, a train came in and it crossed my mind that I'd never been on the West Highland line. Its special - after Bridge of Orchy it strikes north away from the A82 across Rannoch Moor. Beyond Rannoch station it cuts a cross a swathe of fabulous scenery, briefly touching civilisation at Loch Ossian before the long descent past Loch treig to the A86 at Fersit.
I'd encountered this line on a few occasions doing various bike trips and it fascinated me to see the smooth level rails heading across country at gradients no steeper than 1:50, despite the precipitous landscape. The building of it was an epic tale of engineering and its a testament to its design that its still intact today.
Two weeks later and I was on the train out of Glasgow Queen Street, destination, Fort William, loaded fargo in the bike racks. Typical. The train was rammed and a large number of people on it were a bunch of Glaswegians off to Ossian Station to climb one of the party's final Munro. So much for a quiet contemplation of the scenery on my way north and west. They were already noisily drunk even before they started so god knows what they must have been like by the time they'd finished.
The weather was good but patches of mist were a plenty so views were a bit hit and miss. The line the railway threads to Crianlarich is tortuous, passing as it does through many steep sided glens (including past the atrocity that is Faslane). Beyond Crianlarich the now split train was even more crowded as more of the munroe baggers joined it. Still I enjoyed the run north, spying the road to the isles and the Highland Trail route out of the Abhain Rath and up past Loch Ossian. After Ossian the train was quiet so I relaxed for the final miles to Fort Bill.
Timing was tight - I wanted to catch the wee ferry from Fort Bill to Camusnagaul to avoid an A road schlep. I made it with minutes to spare and the boat chugged across the short crossing, the fargo strapped somewhat precariously to the cabin roof.
Finally I was pedalling. My route took me west and did include a short section of the A830 before turning off down the long track by Loch Shiel. This is a beaut of a route - nice and smooth and super scenic. Low cloud made the scenery more dramatic and I took it very easy to appreciate it.
Loch Shiel track
You leave the Lochside and join the public road again at Polloch. I did consider heading up to Resourie bothy but it was too early so ground up the substantial road climb over to Strontian. The cafe in Strontian was a nice break and I languished until they turfed me out at 5. Thereafter it was some pleasant road bashing round by Loch Sunart to Salen. From here there is a short climb and descent to rejoin the last of Loch Shiel. The weather was starting to close in so I decided to keep onto Glenuig and see if the hostel had beds.
The pub at Glenuig has seen many a visitation by myself over the years, generally on a motorbike. I first came here on a family holiday in the '80's where we stayed in a croft a mile or so past the pub. It was my first experience of west coast pubs that never shut, west highland scenery and midges....
Since then I've generally camped close to the pub which is an unofficial but accepted campsite, the nearby village hall providing toilets and showers. A brief inquiry at the bar revealed plenty of bed space on a Sunday eve so I unpacked, drank tea and ate food until joined by a couple of blokes I'd passed earlier who were also staying. I ended up spending a few pleasant hours in the bar chatting to them - they were both folk musicians so we had enough in common (I play classical but its all live music) for it to be a lively discussion fueled by several fine ales.
Glenuig beach and Samallaman island. On my two family holidays we spent many hours here
The next morning dawned grey and wet justifying my cop out into the bunkhouse but by the time I'd breakfasted in the bar and packed up it had stopped. There seemed to be nobody about as I cruised around the road to Lochailort.
Back on the A830 again. This used to be single track but it was upgraded throughout the '80s and 90's until its all two way. Unfortunately this makes for hard pedaling as its all steady but long climbs up and down instead of the previous windy low level route. They have had a go at putting in bits of footway / cycleway here and there but mostly your on the main road. That said there was little traffic and after a few miles I turned off hoping to find a trail marked on the map which would be a pleasant alternative into Arisaig.
It took a couple of goes to find but soon I was following a pleasant track down by a burn across some fields and into the back end of Arisaig. I guess this must have been an early incarnation of the main road but it showed little evidence of use. Arisaig is a changed place. The main road used to go through it but its now totally bypassed. Its the usual dilemma - you remove the traffic but also remove the passing trade and given that most people will be heading for the ferry, I doubt that many will turn off route to visit this fine place. And it shows, its all a bit run down and forgotten but at least there was a cafe which provided rolls and coffee.
The run to Mallaig is actually good. The old road is deserted and very scenic. At Morar you go under the new road viaduct and round the head of the loch. Eventually your back to the main road again but a cycleway has been provided all the way to Mallaig. I hadn't looked at a ferry timetable but I knew the service to Armadale was reasonably regular so I was happy to wing it. In the event I had an hour or so to kill so headed for a bar for a beer and more food.
The boat was a new one and not the usual ship but more like the ferries that do the short crossings i.e. it didn't look capable of standing much in the way of high seas.... In the event the crossing was smooth and I spent most of it staring into Knoydart and thinking: "One day..."
Armadale to Broadford also used to be single track but this too was done up in the '00's to another smooth and wide two way. Its pleasant enough and after the ferry traffic cleared, also deserted, making its improvement somewhat pointless. For the sake of it I hopped over the verge onto a couple of the old sections that are still in existence and once again speculated on the ease at which a network of cycleways could be provided across Scotland which would make touring around so much nicer. Well easy apart from a few million but given the Scottish Governments determination to blow 20 bill on dualling the A9, this seems to be small change for a big benefit, if only they could see it.
I missed out Broadford for more empty A road to the Kyle of Lochalsh. The last time I'd been here by bicycle was 1990 after an arduous trek from Glen Garry to Kinloch Hourn and over a great trail to Arnisdale and the road to Rattagan. We were traveling light so Rattagan hostel was to be a stop over but unfortunately we hadn't booked and it was full hence the need to schlep all the way to the Kyle in order to find digs. I had some more cafe culture here and chatted to a couple of bikers on old air cooled BMW's who were doing the Scotland thing. I'd been on the cusp of several rain clouds up to this point and had been rained on a few times but finally the sun came out and very nice it was too, sitting outside drinking tea, eating cake and watching the scenery.
My route planning for this trip had been fairly vague. I'd a few ideas, an encyclopedic knowledge of Scotland's roads and trails and a few days to kill. I'd thought of doing Skye but on road involves more trunk road bashing so this didn't appeal. Plan B was to try and hit the far northwest but the weather forecast was crap so this seemed a bit too much of a mission. In the event I figured I could head to Ullapool the next day and see what transpired.
So from the Kyle it was round the coast to Plockton via some great wee roads. From just after Plockton your back on the main road but this is still single track and largely empty. Passing the Strathcarron Hotel brought back memories of my stay here in May on the Highland Trail, one of the dirty half dozen who stopped here to recover from the epic of Fisherfield and Torridon. I reversed the HT route to Achnasheen but the fargo dictated an easier route over the hills to Kinlochewe. The Coulin Pass is another route I've wanted to do so this was a perfect opportunity. A steady but smooth climb took me up to the pass and then it was a long descent into Coulin Forest. This is a wee bit rough for the Fargo on skinny Schwalbe thunderburts but once at the bottom the track improves. Tick! Another good route and I always feel smug when I avoid a long section of A road by doing such a track. Cycle Tourers take note! Get some 40mm tyres and start looking out these estate tracks.
Top of the Coulin pass, Liatach in the distance
On arrival at Kinlochewe the midges descended. This place is a particular hotspot for them and after a few midge free days thanks to a stiff breeze they appeared in force. I ran into the pub and was relieved to be told they had space in the bunkhouse. I got in and unpacked then headed barwards for food and beer. People will tell you that midges avoid the indoors for a host of entirely spurious reasons. The Kinlochewe hotel obviously didn't count as I saw several and even got thoroughly bitten by one of the wee sleakit bastards. Beer helped as did the fine food. I retired to the slightly scuzzy bunkhouse and crashed after what had been a long day.
Hmm. I woke to the knowledge that I'd been further bitten in the night in the Bunkhouse. My fellow dossers were still out cold so I quietly grabbed my stuff and headed for the Kitchen. It was raining steadily as I exited and the midges had taken shelter in the shed where my bike as. I had to spend a few seconds attaching some stuff, run out into the rain to escape them and then head in again to attach more stuff. Eventually it was done and it was a blessed relief to jump on the bike and pedal off.
It lasted most of the way up Loch Maree but eventually eased off on the climb past Slattadale. More HT memories... The descent to Gairloch was a hoot, I overtook a car at one point, that's how good it was! As usual I rode through Gairloch to the Mountain Coffee house by the campsite. The scones here are particularly fine! The road climbs a fair bit after here and then descends to Poolewe. The HT did seem like a distant memory but passing through here I recalled my meeting with Ricky Cotter, going into the shop (and the loo) and the relief at exiting Fisherfield. And the rain which was torrential but today the sun was now shining.
The coast road from Poolewe to Ledmore is a cracker, particularly if you are on a motorcycle. Even on a bike its good - lots of ups and downs to be sure but this adds to the fun and the scenery is just fantastic. I was pushing on along here for no other reason than I can. As I approached the Corrieshellach gorge I decided to take a punt on another go at the short cut I'd tried on my August trip coming from the other side.
Then I'd tried to find a footbridge but it was knackered. This time I was on a hot tip that the river was crossable just downstream. I turned off the road on the track to the new hydro electric power station and descended steeply thinking that this would be a schlep back up. The track ended at a locked gate entering the power station building. A new and pointless fence had been put up between this and the river which was about 20 feet away and by the look a goer. I hoicked the bike over the fence and jumped after it. The river was a cinch and on the other side there was actually an obvious path up to the track I'd arrived at in August. Ha! another route found, another A road missed out and a big shortcut to boot. Hmm would Alan consider this as an alternative to the HT route over the Coffin Road? No chance given the fence crossing but if I ever found myself here again this would be the way I would go.
In Ullapool I had a dilemma - what now? It was only 4pm so plenty of riding time left but I'd done 75 miles already. I had fish and chips and a beer to help me decide. I could push onto Lochinver or head east to Knockdamph Bothy or...... Wimped out again. The YH had rooms so I booked in.
Hmmm. Big mistake. It was busy, despite it being mid week outwith school holidays, and to be honest I can't be doing with dorms anymore. I went to the pub to check out the weather and the beer and then turned in late. As per, everybody else in the dorm dropped off before me and snored their heads off. I'd dragged my tent around with me for 3 days so far and not used it. Why hadn't I pitched up at the Loch Broom campsite as per my August trip?? Too late now and ear plugs helped me sleep.
At breakfast I spoke to a fellow cyclist who was aiming for Durness that day, but by the direct route. I mentioned the crap weather forecast but she had a set itinerary she wanted to stick to. Fair play but my own casual approach to route planning seemed a better bet in the face of variable weather. Plus the A836 is a peach on a motorcycle but a grind on a bicycle. My own plan was to head to Lochinver via the Inverkirkaig Road and then take it from there depending on the weather.
The few miles of A836 to the Achiltibuie turn off convinced me that this was a good plan. This wee road is more cycling perfection. The weather was not, finally driving me into my waterproofs. That said as I turned off to Inverkirkaig it showed signs of clearing up but as per it didn't. Who cares, this road is an absolute belter albeit with a lot of climbing. At one point its the sea, the road and a cliff. A camper van that I'd let passed earlier was having a mexican stand off with another glaikit tourist who couldn't cope with such narrowness so I blasted through the lot of them with a huge grin. Of course I had to block the campervan all the way up the next climb knowing that I'd leave him for dead on the next descent. I did and never saw it again.
Rolling into Lochinver the weather had now deteriorated to hard, horizontal dreich i.e exactly like it had been in May. I went into the bunkhouse cum cafe and contemplated my options over soup, sandwich, cake, coffee and a huge bill. The journey north seemed a bit much if this was to persist (it was according to the forecast). As usual East looked far better so the decision was made. It would be a far nicer route in any case, with a tailwind and the prospect of better weather in the east.
I left in the rain, slightly disappointed that I wouldn't get to meet up with the lassy I'd spoken to that morning in Durness and get to regale her with tales of the hard way up north but as usual my common sense out-voted my hormones. Its a nice route east from here but the low cloud removed all views. At Ledmore I noted the exit of the Suilven path thinking that the weather had been equally as horrible in May as now. Still the road to Oykel Bridge was an easy pedal with a stiff tailwind and lifting cloud.
The Oykel bridge hotel was full of fishing types so I kept going to Rosehall and then the back road to Ardguy, thinking I'd stop in the cafe there. Waterproofs off and even a faint hint of sunshine down another wee road but Ardguy was a disappointment. The cafe which was new in 2010 was now shut. No shop, no nothing. The price of a small town not quite on the tourist trail. Next up the Struie road and a famous climb for roadies hereabouts. Last time I was here it pished it down so it was nice for it to be dryish today. Dryish. Not dry. Better than earlier but knowledge that the campsite at Evanton also had a bunkhouse settled into my mind in full prep for another cop out.
Bunkhouse life - you always meet people stranger than you, and for me that's no mean feat. This time a bunch of blokes from Wolverhampton up for hill walking who left just after I arrived to go to see an Inverness Cally Thistle game on the basis that they had to see the local team play whilst they were up here. Die hard footy fans, fair play. For me it was a trip to the co-op, buy lots and lots of food and beer. Sit in watching crap TV and eat and drink whilst my kit dried out in front of an electric fire. I'd done 110 miles today so I felt I'd earned it.
I had a very long lie the next morning, nigh on 'till 10, the supposed departure time. The others had re-appeared and departed during my sleep so I had breakfast in peace whilst plotting my days route. Aviemore and my friends place was an option but I felt I had to give the weather one last try. NCN 1 along the Moray Coast seemed worth a go and I figured Findhorn campsite would be a good destination as I'd stayed there a couple of years previously and there was two good pubs in the place.
At Inverness I called in at the Velocity cafe again as it had started to rain just as I passed along the High Street. So much for the forecast but this was old news now. The route east is a bit fiddly but its pretty good with some off road cycleway and some pleasant back roads.
Railway viaduct on NCN 1
From Nairn I left the NCN and headed into Culbin forest. This is fat bike world as there are loads of sandy trails as well as a big long beach. The fargo required me to stick to the forest roads but its nice - lots of well spaced out pine and fir rather than the mandatory dense sitka. The rain was coming and going but as I turned south to rejoin NCN 1 the cloud cleared back to reveal a surprisingly blue sky.
Findhorn is a thoroughly weird place. On the face of its a typical Moray coastal village with a a couple of good pubs, a chippy, a shop, a caravan and camping site and a hippy commune. Errr yeah, thats right. Its origins are allegedly the nearby RAF base, much like the camp near to Faslane. But I don't actually believe this as I think a more likely reason is the generally good weather and an opportunity based on dubious land ownership and a bunch of folk squatting on it. Nowadays there are a few old timers but mainly its modern hippies - i.e super rich - living in so called eco homes and a bizarre analogy of a 'green' lifestyle. All the houses have driveways and they are all full of range rovers, bmws and other bourge barges. Enough said.
In theory I should have been welcomed as a hero given my arrival by bicycle but the lady in the cafe typified the spirit of place by telling me 'we're closed' as I entered. Fuck them, I'd done more to 'save the planet' in my last 15 years of employment than the whole lot of them would achieve in a life time. So I hightailed it to the campsite feeling suitably self righteous, pitched my tent and headed for the boozer, plans to get thoroughly pissed and then stagger round the commune shouting abuse in the forefront of my mind.
A camp, finally
In the event I had a fine fish tea, a few beers and a wander along the beach.
The next morning was dry and fine but I figured a further jaunt east was taking me too far away from home, which I technically need to get to over the next three days. So I headed south to Forres and then picked up a quiet B road climbing steadily into the foothills of the Cairngorms. A turn off took me to Dallas and the land of whisky. I'd not been in this part of Speyside for many years and very fine it is too. Overall its pleasant rolling countryside but there is that edgy feeling that this is just a precursor to the main massif with occasional high hills poking above the surrounding wooded slopes to indicate the monsters to the south.
I dropped down to Knockando (another distillery) and then onto the Speyside way. For some reason I had it in my head that this would be a nice smooth gravel path but actually its fairly unmade, despite being a disused railway line, and therefore quite muddy after the rain of the previous months. Still, its better than the A95 which I only had to follow for a mile after leaving the SSW at Cragganmore (another distillery) but this was long enough to not want to ride on it any further. From here it was a long, long climb up to Tomintoul but no traffic, fine views, tailwind, warmth and dryness made it a joy.
As usual I stopped in the Fire station cafe at Tomintoul for lunch and dropped a text to my Aviemore pals to warn them I was incoming. The Glen Brown route is maybe a bit much for the Fargo so I opted for the famously hilly A939 and the back road to Nethy Bridge.
So it proved although the rain came back in at Nethy Bridge which nearly made me head for the road but in the event I dug in and climbed up and over the Ryvoan pass. As usual I called into the Glen More cafe bar for a couple of pints of Tradewinds and then hammered down the old logging route to Aviemore.
After a nice social evening I was up fairly sharp (9.30) with a vague plan to head south down the A9 corridor, then turn off into Perthshire, Loch Rannoch and home over two days. Heading South the weather seemed a lot less promising than what was forecast as per the whole of this year to date. Rather than stick to the cycle route I rode the military road from Ruthen barracks bypassing Kingussie and Newtonmore. Its a bit rough for the fargo in places but otherwise a great route and fairly direct. I rejoined NCN 7 at Etteridge, after hopping over the A9 crash barriers, and the rain came in again, in the familiar horizontal dreich of so many days out this year.
At least I had a tailwind as I hooned it down the A9 cycleway, only interrupted by several punctures / resealing that seemed to have plagued me over the preceding day. I'm new to tubeless having long since eschewed it given how much faff it is. Some very inconvenient thorn punctures and re-assurances from several tubeless old hands convinced me to give it a go. This had been 100% successful on the 29+ and fat bike but the higher pressure (and somewhat weedy) tyres on the fargo didn't like it. It started on the cycleway to Findhorn - a hiss, a spray of sealant and much fiddling to get it to seal. Not what I had been told should happen. Sharp stones were penetrating the thin tyre casing and where a tube would have shrugged them off, the tubeless wasn't and worse the sealant also wasn't. At the turn off for Loch Garry the weather closed in once again and any thought of another night out exited my mind. Home beckoned. I had plenty of time and a tailwind. Bash on.
At Blair Atholl I gave up fiddling and put a tube in. What a mess and faff.... Still I had tyre pressure, it was 1pm and I had about 80 easy miles to go....
There is not much else to report. I stuck to NCN 7 and 77, which is mostly on road, as far as Perth then headed over the hill to Bridge of Earn. Thereafter I followed an oft used back road route to home at 8.30pm, 120 miles and 10 hours after I'd started. Total distance for the tour, 600 miles.
