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| another milestone in our life or is it a millstone? |
Dave and Ian have participated in a few
odysseys over the years. On mountains, down straths over rivers,
through blizzards, sluicing downpours, sheltering in bothies, tents,
under overhanging outcrops in snow holes, wherever. Mostly on foot
and sometimes on bikes. This particular trip, 'the Scotland north
auld git cycle odyssey' was designed to be anything but an 'odyssey'.
No it was a cycling for softies trip with warm duvets and cooked
breakfasts. We are pensioners and Dave got a new knee a few months
back.
So on a blustery, though sunny day, Friday 19 September 2014 we
set out from Inverness. That's right, the day after the Referendum. Whether we cycled in joy
or despair is our business. After wending through the city centre
taking a few detours as flood prevention work blocks off some of the
cycle route we ascend the ramp onto the Kessock Bridge where a cycle charity run heading towards us momentarily
impedes our crossing on the narrow cycle way. Then we are over and pulling up
the south flank of Ardmeanach as we meander through minor roads to
Munlochy. Our route continues to climb steadily up past the fertile
Rosskill estate. We are now on the spine of the peninsula as we head
east through Killen before leaving the approved route and left onto
the B9160.
A long downhill leads us to the south
shore of the Cromarty Firth and through the quaintly named hamlet of
Jemimaville. It is not far from there to Cromarty and the jetty. We
do not have long to wait for the small ramshackle ferry and after
parting with a crisp five pound note we are carried to the Easter
Ross shore at Nigg Ferry, overshadowed by a huge oil rig being
refurbished in the old Highlands Fabricator's, Brown Root and Wimpey
construction yard. An Haliburton concern. The firth has various rigs
queued up in the bay, no doubt waiting there turn?
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| Cromarty ferry |
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| old police house, Fearn |
My head floods with memories. Between
1974 and 1978 I was the Hamish McBeth of this area of Easter Ross,
from Portmahomack at its north east tip, taking in the villages of
Inver, Hill of Fearn, Hilton, Balintore and Shandwick right through
to the jetty I am now cycling from. The lone police officer. A
Utopian existence steeped in community service and by far the best
time in my career. So far removed from the centralised controlling
force that we endure today. The eyesore that is Nigg Ferry with it's
rig construction yard is soon behind us as we peddle into a blustery
head wind along the shore of Nigg Bay to Arabella where we turn
right, to pass the interestingly named Clay of Allan farm and into
the village of Fearn. We follow Rhynie road through the village,
passing the house I lived in all these years before, just up from the
birth place of Peter Fraser a past Prime Minster of New Zealand. It
is no longer a police house as budget cuts and changes to police
policy have rendered single station police officers redundant, so it
is now a private house.
We are soon past Rhynie farm and a frenzy of
'tattie houkin', past Loch Eye and over onto the flat, past the
bombing range and into Tain after
41 miles of good cycling. We billet
at Ross Villa. No tents or bothies this trip.
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Struie RAC box
Dave is waiting on a call |
Sunday 21
st and we are off
from Tain on a dull, cold, but mostly windless day. After a short
distance on the busy A9 to the Meikle Ferry bridge we turn onto the
cycle route to Ardgay along the south side of the Dornoch Firth. It
is an enjoyable route through Edderton. A couple of photographs of
the ancient RAC box at the north end of the Struie Hill road.
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Dave crosses the Kyle of Sutherland on the meccano bridge
that's him, the wee distant yellow blob |
Adjacent to the revitalised garage in Ardgay is a glorious wee cafe,
no frills but wholesome food and baking. Just the job. By the way,
the garage also boasts a bike shop. Note that. We are soon in
conversation with an even older traveller than our good selves. He,
like most highland west coasters, sits quietly with his pot of tea,
nothing passing his notice. He is Willie Elliot, aka 'Willie the
Ghillie' and he hales from a remote spot north of Scourie. He knows
Cathel McLeod who will be our host further into the trip. Small
world. Then off again following the cycle route on quite backroads to
cross the river Carron and on to cross the Kyle of Sutherland by a
walkway bolted to the side of the railway viaduct and directly under
Carbisdale Castle youth hostel, now closed.
We leave the main Lairg road and go via
Falls of Shin, passing a car parking area surrounded by what is left
of the Harrods of the north, flat concrete. At Lairg we grab a bite
at the Pier Cafe, a nice spot on Loch Shin. Thereafter follows a long
uphill drag, not steep, but unrelenting, as we cross bleak moorland
for a few miles before alighting at the Crask Inn.
After partaking of
a half a pint of delicious real ale we are off on the last few miles,
nine or so, into Altnaharra. Most is thankfully downhill so we skud
along in anticipation of rest and food. We are not disappointed.
Lindsay and Mandy are five star hosts and tea and biscuits are
produced on our arrival, shared by a couple from Inverurie who are
also on a cycling odyssey of their own. Mandy makes dinner and all
guests eat at the same communal table. Good food and pleasant company
and all for £25 pounds. We clock up
49 miles today.
Monday morning has sun and misty low
cloud in the valley. We are soon dragging ourselves up another long
uphill section on our way to Durness via Tongue. In no time on a
sunny, if coolish day we are over the high point of the Tongue
section and scudding down towards Loch Loyal, a silver curved shimmer
in the distance. At the bottom of the glen we cross Lon
Achadh na h-Aibhne at Inchkinloch, then along the shore of Loyal with
the slopes of Ben Loyal on our left. Refreshment is taken at an
idyllic spot, Lettermore; whitewashed cottage beside a strand of
trees over arched bridge that must have been part of the old road.
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| Lettermore by Ben Loyal |
Soon we are above Tongue and a
breakneck downward section takes us into the village. Provisions at a
shop followed by tea and a rather large bacon roll follow in the
Tongue hotel with views over to Castle Varrich, now a roofless ruin
thought to go back to the 16
th century and perhaps to
Norse times.
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| Castle Varrich |
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| Dave on the long pull up from River Hope |
We mount again and get on the last leg
of today's journey, the roughest part, both terrain and weather. We
stop on the causeway and don warmer clothing then we are striking up
a three mile section of hill, not steep but unrelenting. At the top
there is a long gradual downhill before a serious 1 in 8 last section drops down to the river at Hope. My fingers hurt from pulling on the
brakes. I should have allowed myself to enjoy that section because
now comes a steeper ascent as we go up and over the large hump of a
hill separating the Hope river from Loch Eribol. At the top we get lovely views over
the loch and down onto the small Ard Neachie peninsula.
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| Ard Neachie in Loch Eribol |
The weather is worsening with rain in the air and breeze
freshening as we scoot down and along the south side of the loch. The
breeze is in our faces as we pull into the lee of Eribol church to
have a snack. As we eventually swing around the head of the loch we
see a huge tract of wilderness area. This is really out of the way.
Along the north side of the loch we are aided by the breeze. We pass
what looks like a couple of 'hippy' communities, probably millionaire
'hippies', who knows? There is a lot of work going on to lay fibre
optic cable. Even a hippie can be, 'only so far away from
civilisation'.
After what seems like an age from
departing Altnaharra we enter the scattered township that is Durness.
The rain has decided to get real by now and we are getting a soaking
as we drag ourselves up and down the 'hills' of Durness. At the very
end we pech' up the last long drag past the Caravan site and round
the last corner to our digs for that night, Glengolly Guest House. We
have completed 49 miles today.
The room is, well, a room. Not a lot of
drying points for our sodden gear. We spread it about as best we can,
then down to the Sango Sands camp site cafe for fish and chips and a
bottle of beer. It is quite a forlorn place in the cold wind and
rain, complete with a few locals and bedraggled tourists.
Breakfast on Tuesday is 'whisky
porrage'. Wise choice? Time will tell. Then it's the south road on a
dull damp morning with scudding clouds and a brisk and gusting south
westerly impeding our progress. Skirting the Kyle of Durness was a
battle into a healthy gust.
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| Dave, teeth gritted, battles into wind by Kyle of Durness |
We cycle along the strath that is
followed by the River Dionard as it exits into the Kyle. Our way is
blocked at the far end of the strath by the modest Farmmheall hill
and its radio mast. I look for where our road will obviously swing
low past this impediment. It is then I see what looks like a vehicle
high on it's flank. Ah! We do go over it. Hmmm! At least we are in
the lee of the hill and protected from the wind. Find a gear and turn
the peddles and grind on from sea level to about 250 meters. I can
taste whisky, I knew it was a mistake. At the top we stop for a
breather near Gualin House, the views down Strath Dionard past a
cloud shrouded Fionaven are spectacular, even in the rain. Then it is
into the wind again over an undulating plateau before plunging down
the long descent to Rhiconich. We press on and are soon going over
steep ascents and descents to Laxford Bridge. Refreshment pause as we
hang over the bridge to intimidate, I don't think so, a tweed
bedecked lady casting for salmon. The protective ghillie assures us
there are no fish moving. Then away we speed along a windy switchback
of a road in anticipation of our first serious stop of the day at
Scourie, still a bit ahead of us. We are lucky with the traffic,
quite sparse; time of year? The last couple of miles is down a scary
ski slope section of road that swings us into the village. We
dismount and leave our bikes to the mercy of the blustery wet
afternoon as we head into the warm innards of the Scourie Hotel for
lunch. We meet a group of the Cycle Touring Club heading for Durness,
wind assisted. In what seems like no time at all we are mounted and
back onto the switchback, twisty road south over the Scourie More
peninsula and heading for the crux pitch of the day. That being the
hill that bars our way between Kylesku and Assynt, known locally as
the Skaig. By the time we get to the shapely Kylesku bridge our
blustery day off occasional showers has settled into a gloomy day of
persistent, heavy rain.
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| Kylesku bridge in gathering gloom |
We switch our lights on and set out over the
Skaig which involves dragging our sodden selves from sea level to
over 250 metres in a shortish zig zag torture routine. There is a
short flattish section at the summit. A couple cars occupy the
parking area. I assume their occupiers are somewhere on clag covered
Quinag to my right, lucky them! Then back to breakneck descent time
as the road snakes down to Loch Assynt. I glimpse Dave hurtling away
from me in the distance. Has he not got brakes? I have got brakes and
my hands are sore applying them. On the last downhill section before
the junction at Loch Assynt, in heavy rain, I stop to converse with a
lady heading up hill. She is pushing a mountain bike and both her and
the bike are laden with gear. She is hoping to find a place to eat
and get a bed on the other side of the hill. I do not envy her trip,
particularly if she intends to descend on the bike, with all that
gear. I get the the Assynt junction with relief, just eleven miles of
reasonable normal cycling left. I engage top gear for the first time
that day as I speed along Loch Assynt side. That changes as I near
Lochinver as the switchback nature of road cycling in the north west
is once more upon me. The last five miles seems like an eternity, but
then I am again hurtling down the ubiquitous steep hill into the
village. Destination for that night, Cathel McLeod's great wee guest
house, Polcraig. Cathel, an old colleague of mine and someone who
obviously has gleaned a smattering of knowledge off me over the years
is soon by my side with a two large drams, the other one for Dave. We
are dripping on his reception floor as we down the welcome
refreshment. We had just cycled
54 brutal miles. After a shower and
change of clobber we hang our wet gear in the drying room and head
for the Lochinver Larder to eat. It is also the home of the famous
Lochinver Pie.
We leave Cathel's place early on a dry,
calmish morning. The hill on our exit from the village is steep and
catches our breath a bit. We retrace our route back the eleven miles
to the junction of the Skaig and onto roads anew to Inchnadamph.
Photographs of Ardvreck Castle and Calda house at the east end of the
loch mandatory.
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| Gable of Calda House with Loch Assynt and corner of Ardvreck Castle |
The castle was the stronghold of the McLeod clan of
Assynt from 1590. For a time during their tenure they held James
Graham, Marquess of Montrose, captive before transportation to
Edinburgh for trial and subsequent execution. Clan McKenzie routed
the McLeods and in 1672 took over the castle, although after a while
they moved out to the more comfortable Calda House which they had
constructed nearby. In 1737 Calda house was destroyed in a mysterious
blaze. It was never rebuilt and it and the castle descended to the
ruins they are today. The castle is said to be haunted by the ghost
of Montrose.
Our next stop is Elphin. It is off our
route. Signs by the side of the road lured us to that spot with the
promise of tea and fresh baking at the community hall craft day. The
baker has not surfaced, so no cakes. We make ourselves a cup of tea
and dine on a couple of dry digestives. The power of advertising.
Back to Ledmore Junction and a right turn with Bonar Bridge our
destination. We are on single track road and soon pass Loch Borralan.
We do not spot the Crannog at it's west end, no matter. The day is
brightening up as we head east and the road is turning into a
pleasure. We stop for more photographs at the bridge over Allt Eileag
then it is Loch Craggie before the long gentle descent down Strath
Oykel in lovely autumn sunshine. It is a beautiful cycle route with
long views to the distant east. A short, abortive stop in the village
of Rosehall at the 'closed' hotel means no afternoon tea for us. We
get on and are soon meandering beside the Kyle of Sutherland before
emerging onto the busy Lairg - Bonar Bridge road at Invershin. At
Bonar Bridge we receive a warm welcome at the Dunroamin Hotel by our
hosts Lesley and Iain. A good meal is followed by good real ale. A
second 54 mile day, not as brutal as yesterday.
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| west face of Edderton Stone |
On our way back now as we head over the
bridge and through Ardgay to retrace our earlier route back to Tain
via Edderton. A couple of photographs of the Edderton stone.
We are
treated to tea and home baking by Christine and Richard MacKenzie in
Tain. Then off down the Scotsburn Road on our way to a final
'overnighter' at Dingwall. After Alness we get to Evanton and stop
for scones at a fine wee church run cafe in Evanton. You will notice
the importance of calorie intake on such journeys. We take the old
Evanton Road, the first section out of the village being a long
uphill drag that levels out into a particularly pleasant cycle route to Dingwall.
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| old ferry area of Dingwall from Old Evanton road |
Then into Dingwall and down Ferry road to our bed and
breakfast stop. In Ferry road we pass the Ross Memorial Hospital,
birth place of my middle son and also 'birthplace' of my Ross and
Sutherland police service. We clock up a pleasant
42 miles. Ann and
Flavel are mighty fine hosts. After a delicious and filling dinner at
the guest house, courtesy of Ann, we manage an hour or two in the
Caledonian Bar where we meet 'Whitey' a retired highland league
football star, of a year or two back. A pleasant evening.
A great breakfast and we set out on the
final short hop to the end of our mini cycling odyssey. It is a
fresh, sunny morning with clouds scudding across the sky, thankfully
accompanying us. We swing past the location of the old ferry then out
of Dingwall on the cycle route which swings left over the river Conon
and up onto the top of Ardmeanach to swing right at Tore.
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| old shop at Artafallie on old A9 near Tore |
We are still on
the old road, before a tunnel takes us under the very busy, present A9
adjacent to North Kessock. We detour into the village and stop at the
old ferry jetty.
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| Dave in front of Kessock Hotel |
The tide is high and moving against the gale force
wind that is breaking up the surface into white horses with fleck
spumes adding to the visual drama.
The route back up to the cycle
route at Kessock Bridge level is seriously steep. Crossing the bridge
is an adventure. Negotiating the narrow cycle track takes care in any
circumstances, however a gale coming out of the west causes us some
balance difficulty. In fact my helmet is nearly blown from my head.
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| Kessock bridge |
Then it is down and into Inverness for the traffic dodging leg
through the centre before arriving back at the car in good order
after a final
18 relaxing miles.
So our trip is at an end and after a
welcome cup of tea it is bikes on the car and an easy run down the
A9.
A great trip, made all the better by the brilliant scenery, the freedom, the brutal fifty
four miles from Durness to Lochinver, the easy fifty four miles from Lochinver to Bonar Bridge and last but not least, the friendship, coupled with meeting some old colleagues and friends en
route.
Sincere thanks to Hamish, Cathel and Iain.
And Dave's knee got stronger.
