18 July

Bright and optimistic this morning as I headed across Scotland, alongside Loch Ness before climbing up to around 1500ft then a long downhill into Fort Augustus. 

Just like the two previous days, stunning scenery and warm weather, but thankfully now not much wind.  From Fort Augustus, I decided to take the path down the side of the Caledonia Canal.  A good move, I thought, avoiding the traffic and on the level.  The ground was a bit rough, but it must be better than the A82.

From there, I crossed the canal again and back on to the road, re affirming my decision to take the canal path, much better to be away from the traffic and safely ‘off road’.   After a few miles, my family passed and stopped for a break and a quick chat on the banks of Loch Oich, then off again alongside Loch Lochy into Fort William.

Now the problems started.   Having had such a good experience alongside the Caledonian Canal, I thought I’d take the track on the opposite side of Loch Lochy and avoid the major road.  Much safer.   Great idea, so long as you don’t take a wrong turn and end up climbing into a forest, 800 ft above the Loch.  The path petered out to nothing and I was left literally high and dry.  I turned round to descend then a loud bang.    My back tyre was punctured.  But more than that, the side of the tyre had a large rip in it.  When I repaired the puncture, and inflated it, the inner tube just ballooned out of the whole, then burst.

Still, no problem, I had another tube, but by this stage, I had run out of gas cannisters which I use to inflate the tyres.....and I’d forgotten to take my pump.

It was four miles back to the road and about six to the other end of the Loch and back to civilisation, where I thought I’d be able to borrow a cycle pump from someone, so I set off walking.  I walked, and walked and walked.  I met  a lot of German’s mysteriously all with massive rucksacks, walking along a deserted track in the middle of nowhere, but no one with a bike pump.

About 200yds from the end of the track, after over an hour and a half walking, I met Dave and Stuart, two cyclists from Chorley, on their way back to Fort Augustus.  Between us, with the aid of their bike pump and a wrapper from an energy bar, to bolster the rip in the tyre, we successfully repaired the bike and I was off again. 

The campsite here is on the banks of Loch Linnhe and quite spectacular, overlooked by Ben Nevis.

And there are no midges.

And my backside isn’t sore.

17 July

Wind a lot less today, but still against me.  Much easier cycling, though in a lighter breeze.  The first ten miles was uphill across some stunning countryside to a pub called The Crask Inn, which is literally in the middle of nowhere. It must be at least ten miles from the nearest house!  Didn’t look like anyone was home when I passed.  Once at the top, it was downhill for almost thirty miles into Lairg, then Bonar Bridge and from there along B roads to DIngwall.

Then a hitch.

Well, not so much of a hitch as a small disaster.  

My SatNav ran out of battery.  I’d plugged it in to charge overnight but for some reason that hadn’t worked.  It just went dead, with me in the middle of Scotland in a place called Evanton, which with about thirty houses probably qualifies as a major connobation. 

Things started to slide a bit from there, really. My route, planned with the help of a book called ‘The End to End Cycle Route’ by Nick Mitchell, takes me carefully along minor roads, which is great in terms of safety, but a bit of a problem if you lose your map.

‘I know’, I thought, ‘I’ll sellotape my iphone to the handlebars and use the map on that’.  Two problems with this idea, first, with no signal, there is no map, and second, you can’t see the screen outside.  Still, by this time, I was in Dingwall, which has a Co Op so I stopped for directions.  The nice chap asked where I was going, and resisting saying ‘to hell in a handcart’ I told him I was on the way to Inverness but didn’t know how to get there.  He gave me some pointers to get me back on track and off I went.

Things went okay then, until I came to the A9.   I remembered the route took me along a minor road at this point which runs alongside this dual carriageway into Inverness.  Still with no map, I thought ‘how lucky am I’ to see a cycle route signposted to Inverness.  I’ll follow this, I thought and off I went.   As the traffic noise from the A9 faded into the distance, I was oblivious. I was nearly there, wind behind, traveling effortlessly to my destination.  

Then I thought, ‘hang on’.  Wind behind.  It’s coming from the west today.  If the wind is behind, I’m traveling towards Norway.  Sure enough, after another mile or so I came around a corner to be faced with the magnificent views across the North Sea.  Inverness was somewhere over my right shoulder, fading in the distance.  I retraced my steps back along the road and after five or six miles, came across a tiny blue sign, pointing the way for cyclists to Inverness.  I went past, to check if there was one when coming from the other direction.  There wasn’t. 

Still, I was only six miles from Inverness by this stage, so home and hosed, really.

Not.

I eventually came to the Inverness bridge, which I knew had a cycle path alongside it. But today it was closed for repair.  Good news, though, there was a diversion, under the bridge (which is about 200ft in the air) which meant a hairy descent then a crippling 1:4 climb to the other side of the carriageway. Then across the bridge with very frightening crosswinds and into Inverness. 

At this point, things started to go wrong. I arrived in Inverness at 4:30.  I arrived a the campervan at 6:15.  It’s six miles.    Putting it simply, I got lost.  In my attempt to avoid the major roads, I ended up traveling down every minor road in Inverness.   After an hour, I met a very nice lady in a Park (don’t ask how I got there) who directed me and finally I arrived at the campsite.

What should have been 80 miles was closer to 100.

Still, no midges.

And my backside’s not sore.

16 July

First day.  And what a day! Fantastic views, quiet roads, sun shining..........and the wind.  Straight at me, 25mph for the first 50 miles.  Like cycling through treacle.  It was one of the hardest days cycling I’ve ever done.  

I started outside the First and Last House with my family seeing me off. The boys looked doubtful.  Am anda looked hopeful.  I looked a bit ridiculous.  Then it was straight along the coast, wind in my hair, peddling like fury and getting nowhere.   There are a few peculiarities about northern Scotland.  First, the inordinate number of graveyards, second the definition of a village which seems to mean just two houses and third, the fact that it’s a very, very long way away.   The views are incredible, though, loads of secluded coves with turquoise sea and white sand.  I went for almost fifty miles along this coast line, and even though it was incredibly hard work, it was worth it.  

We then met up at Bettyhill, where after a cup of tea, and some food, I turned left to head South (finally).  Peculiarly, almost immediately I did, the wind changed direction to come back in my face again!  Another 20 miles and I arrived at Altnaharra campsite, on the banks of Loch Naver.  Quite spectacular and worth the effort. 

Almost everyone we have spoken to about Scotland warned us about the midges.  Stories of people running for cover, wearing Beekeepers hats being chased by swarms of them.  “I woke up like I’d had chicken pox’’ ‘’ Make sure you take insect repellent, Avon is the best, the Army use it’’  ‘’I had an aunt who was admitted to hospital.....’‘   Well, we didn’t see one.  Not one.  Saw a fly, but that’s a bit big to qualify.   No midges.

For all of those who worried about my backside, I’ll keep you up to date each day.  First day so good, no soreness.

Right off to bed now.  Inverness tomorrow.