Monday, July 23, 2007
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Crianlarich to Stirling - 73k - Sat 21 July
We wanted an early start. The midgees wanted an earlier one! We were happy to leave this place behind, nice as it was because the midgees didn't leave us alone. We headed off down the A85 towards Killin, but would be turning south to Stirling at the tiny hamlet of Lix, just 8k away, where the famous 'Kyber Pass of Scotland' would begin, and hopefully the flat rail trail for bikes on the NCN 7 that was promised to avoid it.
The road started to rise a mile or so before Lix - by Lix we were doing it hard in low gears, and as the road turned south beyond Lix it got steeper for the next 2k where we reached what I thought to be a temporary summit, in anticipation of the real 'Pass' to come. What we had done was not so bad. At the crest we found the NCN 7 (using the old railway line to Killin), so we hopped on that, leaving the highway and the steep climbs. From the rail trail, which I must say was fantastic, we could see that the road then dropped steadily for mile after mile, while we stayed high up on the old railway line. The truth is that there never was Pass, and in fact the road continued to descend until it met Loch Lubnaig, and remained flat all the way to Stirling. The climbing we did was the 'steep' section that the guy said to avoid at all costs!
The rail trail was great though. It crossed some viaducts, giving superb sights across the Glen, and down on villages, farmhouses and the road full of traffic. But after 7k it finished, dropping by a series of tight S bends in concrete down to roaf level where it turned us out on tracks, old bits of road and paths winding up and down through forests with tough short hills, tight bends and all adding to extra distance.
It took us away from the road several miles into the village of Balquhidder, which we would not have normally visited, but it was the village where the great Scottish revolutionary Rob Roy was buried with his wife in the ruins of the village cathedral. Buried with him was his son who was hanged by the authorities for abduction of a woman. We kept faith with the NCN as it then took us across country again, just adding miles to a day when we really didn't need it, and after several more miles of mountain bike riding (where you'd be in your element Angus!) on dirt paths with steep sections where we just made the crests - (which is not meant for touring bikes laden with panniers!) we decided that enough was enough and took the first chance to get back on the highway at the village of Strathyre. After Balquhidder, as we were wrestling with the tight ascents and twists and turns of what was the old road, it dawned on me that this would have been the road travelled by Queen Victoria, who labelled this section as Scotlands equivalent to the Khyber Pass. We were probably on it, so rather than the NCN avoiding it, it probably put us on it! We got off anyway.
From the highway, we were in high gear immediately and flying along the Loch at high twenties and thirties, which is basically how we covered the final 30k or so to STirling. The Highlands had disappeared now, and the land was flat, and the road good. Julie led the way for the final 40k or so, and rode superbly. She has certainly improved and become a competent cyclist. It is a thrill to see her climb mountains with determination, to rise out of her seat and take on the steepest climbs. She is hard to keep with on the flats - I tell her its because I carry more load - but she has done superbly well since the early days after leaving PAris.
After meeting Hamish the Highland Bull, who was just a crowd pleaser, entertaining the crowd through his fence at the hamlet of Kilmahog (he was a 500kg version of a labrador puppy), we cruised the rest of the way, via lunch stop at Callander, to Stirling.
We were about 6k out, the flat road heading straight for Stirling, when Julie shouted that we could see the Wallace Monument, a high point from where it is believed William Wallace viewed and commanded the Battle of Stirling Bridge in 1290 something. Just a mile or so later the great Stirling Castle came into clear view, the road lined up perfectly with it, so we had it in a sights for the remainder of the way. We stopped just on the edge of town for photos with the castle as the backdrop, then at the town sign also with the castle as the backings creen, and then we cycled into this most marvellous o Scottish towns. It was said of the Scottish Kings that if you take Stirling, you take Scotland such was its geographical significance.
It was at 3pm on Saturadya afternoon, 21 July that our bikes finally came to rest outside the Alpine Bike Shop in Murray Place, across the road from Willy Wallace Backpackers, our home for the next two days. The Apline Bike shop had promised me two boxes for the bikes. We turned off our computer at 3486k, just 14k short of our estimated 3500k.
Our great ride was over, but certainly not the adventure. Life for us is full of exciting challenges. Julie has said she has an agreement with her bike to give it a rest for a while. I think mine will need some tlc before it goes on another adventure.
This was a massive undertaking, but we looked at each other with a glint in our eyes as if we knew we were thinking the same thing - we pulled off something that was seemingly impossible, with the good grace and blessing of the Lord Himself whose presence we were continually aware of.
Thats the end of the ride story, but given another chance here today I will add some reflections when time permits.
As I write it is Sunday morning 22 July, our free day in Stirling. As has been the case with every free day except Kilchoan, and every big town - it is raining, a fitting tribute to our trip where for some five of the seven weeks of the ride, it rained on our parade.
We are very grateful for the faith, love and prayers of a lot of people back home whom we know followed and supported us with great love and affection. We will be home soon, but our hearts are in Scotland, and as the sign says that we have seen so often leaving Scottish villages 'Haste ye back again'.
Thats a definite!
The road started to rise a mile or so before Lix - by Lix we were doing it hard in low gears, and as the road turned south beyond Lix it got steeper for the next 2k where we reached what I thought to be a temporary summit, in anticipation of the real 'Pass' to come. What we had done was not so bad. At the crest we found the NCN 7 (using the old railway line to Killin), so we hopped on that, leaving the highway and the steep climbs. From the rail trail, which I must say was fantastic, we could see that the road then dropped steadily for mile after mile, while we stayed high up on the old railway line. The truth is that there never was Pass, and in fact the road continued to descend until it met Loch Lubnaig, and remained flat all the way to Stirling. The climbing we did was the 'steep' section that the guy said to avoid at all costs!
The rail trail was great though. It crossed some viaducts, giving superb sights across the Glen, and down on villages, farmhouses and the road full of traffic. But after 7k it finished, dropping by a series of tight S bends in concrete down to roaf level where it turned us out on tracks, old bits of road and paths winding up and down through forests with tough short hills, tight bends and all adding to extra distance.
It took us away from the road several miles into the village of Balquhidder, which we would not have normally visited, but it was the village where the great Scottish revolutionary Rob Roy was buried with his wife in the ruins of the village cathedral. Buried with him was his son who was hanged by the authorities for abduction of a woman. We kept faith with the NCN as it then took us across country again, just adding miles to a day when we really didn't need it, and after several more miles of mountain bike riding (where you'd be in your element Angus!) on dirt paths with steep sections where we just made the crests - (which is not meant for touring bikes laden with panniers!) we decided that enough was enough and took the first chance to get back on the highway at the village of Strathyre. After Balquhidder, as we were wrestling with the tight ascents and twists and turns of what was the old road, it dawned on me that this would have been the road travelled by Queen Victoria, who labelled this section as Scotlands equivalent to the Khyber Pass. We were probably on it, so rather than the NCN avoiding it, it probably put us on it! We got off anyway.
From the highway, we were in high gear immediately and flying along the Loch at high twenties and thirties, which is basically how we covered the final 30k or so to STirling. The Highlands had disappeared now, and the land was flat, and the road good. Julie led the way for the final 40k or so, and rode superbly. She has certainly improved and become a competent cyclist. It is a thrill to see her climb mountains with determination, to rise out of her seat and take on the steepest climbs. She is hard to keep with on the flats - I tell her its because I carry more load - but she has done superbly well since the early days after leaving PAris.
After meeting Hamish the Highland Bull, who was just a crowd pleaser, entertaining the crowd through his fence at the hamlet of Kilmahog (he was a 500kg version of a labrador puppy), we cruised the rest of the way, via lunch stop at Callander, to Stirling.
We were about 6k out, the flat road heading straight for Stirling, when Julie shouted that we could see the Wallace Monument, a high point from where it is believed William Wallace viewed and commanded the Battle of Stirling Bridge in 1290 something. Just a mile or so later the great Stirling Castle came into clear view, the road lined up perfectly with it, so we had it in a sights for the remainder of the way. We stopped just on the edge of town for photos with the castle as the backdrop, then at the town sign also with the castle as the backings creen, and then we cycled into this most marvellous o Scottish towns. It was said of the Scottish Kings that if you take Stirling, you take Scotland such was its geographical significance.
It was at 3pm on Saturadya afternoon, 21 July that our bikes finally came to rest outside the Alpine Bike Shop in Murray Place, across the road from Willy Wallace Backpackers, our home for the next two days. The Apline Bike shop had promised me two boxes for the bikes. We turned off our computer at 3486k, just 14k short of our estimated 3500k.
Our great ride was over, but certainly not the adventure. Life for us is full of exciting challenges. Julie has said she has an agreement with her bike to give it a rest for a while. I think mine will need some tlc before it goes on another adventure.
This was a massive undertaking, but we looked at each other with a glint in our eyes as if we knew we were thinking the same thing - we pulled off something that was seemingly impossible, with the good grace and blessing of the Lord Himself whose presence we were continually aware of.
Thats the end of the ride story, but given another chance here today I will add some reflections when time permits.
As I write it is Sunday morning 22 July, our free day in Stirling. As has been the case with every free day except Kilchoan, and every big town - it is raining, a fitting tribute to our trip where for some five of the seven weeks of the ride, it rained on our parade.
We are very grateful for the faith, love and prayers of a lot of people back home whom we know followed and supported us with great love and affection. We will be home soon, but our hearts are in Scotland, and as the sign says that we have seen so often leaving Scottish villages 'Haste ye back again'.
Thats a definite!
Glencoe to Crianlarich - 73k - Fri 20 July
It is hard to give credit to such spellbinding magnificence as the mountain of Glen Coe. We were packed and riding just after 9:30am, wondering whether we were riding into steep climbs. But we had to ride nevertheless. The place was a photographic paradise. After stopping at the Glencoe Visitors Centre, we headed up the Glen. The bottom line is that for 27k we climbed in altitude, but we didn't mind because the road ran up the Glen, always gradually rising, and although it was low gears all the way, with Julie preferring her bigger gears but out of the saddle, we climbed out to the top of the Glen and through the PAss of Glen Coe. The views back were just spectacular, the mountains and their rugged beauty failing in words that capture them. We took photos knowing full well they would appear nothing like the scenes before us.
Through the Pass we entered Rannock Moor, nothing like below but still beautiful in its own way. Its here we passed the sign that said that at 28k we had climbed to 1140ft to the top of Rannock Moor. The moor opened out enabling the bikes to move along much faster, we were looking for a great spot to make lunch, which we eventually found alongside a Loch that lies in the centre of the Moor. We then pressed on with now heighted views of Loch Tulla still on top, but then we had a delightful long but steep descent that took us down and along the Loch for many miles.
We were keen to get to our camp by now, which was still a way off, and some 10k past the village of Crianlarich. The hamlet of Bridge of Orchy came next, from where we knew it was still a further 30k. Tyndrum had a TIC, so we stopped, and the fellow told us about the steep climb the following day, and the NCN alternative, saying Queen Victoria called that stretch (Glen of Orgy) the Khyber Pass of Scotland. We were grateful for the information, and couldn't wait for the moment to come!
Crianlarich is another lovely but small village at one end of Glen Dochart, along which we now turned, still on the A85, for the final 10k to the caravan park. It had been a solid day, especially the 28k or so uphill from Glencoe village to the top of the Moor. We were following the river Dochart, so the road was nice and flat, and eventually the welcoming signs of the Dochart Caravan Park enticed us finally off the road, as did the welcoming band of midgees who were lying in wait for us about which we could do little except cover ourselves in good old aussie aeroguard and stay in the tent for the night. Two days later we are both still scratching!
It was a great day, and as we prepared for bed in our tent we realised with some sadness that this would be the final night in the tent, the final meal on our fantastic little Trangia cooker, and the final walk to the shower block running the gauntlett through a waiting army of little midgees!
It was our third day in a row without rain!
Through the Pass we entered Rannock Moor, nothing like below but still beautiful in its own way. Its here we passed the sign that said that at 28k we had climbed to 1140ft to the top of Rannock Moor. The moor opened out enabling the bikes to move along much faster, we were looking for a great spot to make lunch, which we eventually found alongside a Loch that lies in the centre of the Moor. We then pressed on with now heighted views of Loch Tulla still on top, but then we had a delightful long but steep descent that took us down and along the Loch for many miles.
We were keen to get to our camp by now, which was still a way off, and some 10k past the village of Crianlarich. The hamlet of Bridge of Orchy came next, from where we knew it was still a further 30k. Tyndrum had a TIC, so we stopped, and the fellow told us about the steep climb the following day, and the NCN alternative, saying Queen Victoria called that stretch (Glen of Orgy) the Khyber Pass of Scotland. We were grateful for the information, and couldn't wait for the moment to come!
Crianlarich is another lovely but small village at one end of Glen Dochart, along which we now turned, still on the A85, for the final 10k to the caravan park. It had been a solid day, especially the 28k or so uphill from Glencoe village to the top of the Moor. We were following the river Dochart, so the road was nice and flat, and eventually the welcoming signs of the Dochart Caravan Park enticed us finally off the road, as did the welcoming band of midgees who were lying in wait for us about which we could do little except cover ourselves in good old aussie aeroguard and stay in the tent for the night. Two days later we are both still scratching!
It was a great day, and as we prepared for bed in our tent we realised with some sadness that this would be the final night in the tent, the final meal on our fantastic little Trangia cooker, and the final walk to the shower block running the gauntlett through a waiting army of little midgees!
It was our third day in a row without rain!
Kilchoan to Glencoe - 86k - Thurs 19 July
It was grey and overcast as we peddled out of this idyllic little community by the sea, just across the Loch from the Isle of Mull and the beautiful village of Tobermory. The first 6k was a roller coaster with tough ups and downs as we climbed out of the village, the ruins of castle Mingary just to our right. At the 6k mark we had reached akind of summit, where ahead of us we could see the village of Kilmory, then across the sea to the Isle of Mudle, with the outline of the ruggedness of Skye behind it. We turned east though, and completed the long collar around the back of Mt Hiant, with its long and delightful descent now with the Holy Mountain on our right, and to the west, past where several villages were cleared of families to make way for sheep for the Mingary Estate.
The remaining 20k back to Salen was just as tough as the way out, following the rugged coast with its climbs, drops but always beautiful scenery, through Britains national treasure of Sunart Oakwoods, but today no rain. We hit the A861, and still in an easterly direction, continued the tough road with its long climbs and steep descents that wound its way to the village of Stontian, where we had lunch in the park.
From Stontian we cut through the Glen of Tarbert, which gently climbs into the Glen, then gently descends - the rough country having now smoothed out to make it really glorious cycling, as we approached the ferry that ran from Ardour to Corran, the last several miles tracking the coast again with its many examples of cute houses that date from the earliest time of the crofts. The ferry was a welcome sight, and crossing just a delight as we looked up Loch Linnhe to Fort William and Ben Nevis for the final time.
We turned south on the A82 tracking the shores of the southern reach of Loch Linnhe, through the pretty village of Onich, and then veering east again up into the great Glen Coe. We went through North Ballachulish, from where the Glen opened up to us in all its great and unparralled beauty. The bridge that took us from the northern shore of now Loch Leven to the southern was just a spectacle, the road now tracking the southern shore of the Loch. The mountains and their splendour are unequalled in the english language. I personally don't think I have seen anything as majestic and spellbinding as the scene before us, with enormous highlands on both sides reaching to over 3300ft running all the way up the Glen, with the tiny village of Glencoe nestled just a mile away on the shores of the Loch, with a beautiful caravan park right on the edge.
We camped here, our tent just metres from the shore, but a tiny speck compared to the beautiful mountains that otherwise surrounded us on all sides now. Glencoe was the scene of the terrible Glencoe massacre in 1692, when after a failure by the head of the MacDonald Clan to give written assurance of his allegiance to the King, soldiers were dispatched who for weeks were hosted in the homes of the MacDonald clan, but who then received orders to kill every one of them under the age of 70yrs. The Clan chief was first to be murdered by gunshot, followed by his wife, and then followed 36 more - men women and boys and girls. The beautiful valley was the backdrop for such a terrible atrocity, for which leaders were later punished.
We slept here the night, looking forward but with some trepidation to the journey through the Geln the next day to our final camp at the village of Crianlarich.
The remaining 20k back to Salen was just as tough as the way out, following the rugged coast with its climbs, drops but always beautiful scenery, through Britains national treasure of Sunart Oakwoods, but today no rain. We hit the A861, and still in an easterly direction, continued the tough road with its long climbs and steep descents that wound its way to the village of Stontian, where we had lunch in the park.
From Stontian we cut through the Glen of Tarbert, which gently climbs into the Glen, then gently descends - the rough country having now smoothed out to make it really glorious cycling, as we approached the ferry that ran from Ardour to Corran, the last several miles tracking the coast again with its many examples of cute houses that date from the earliest time of the crofts. The ferry was a welcome sight, and crossing just a delight as we looked up Loch Linnhe to Fort William and Ben Nevis for the final time.
We turned south on the A82 tracking the shores of the southern reach of Loch Linnhe, through the pretty village of Onich, and then veering east again up into the great Glen Coe. We went through North Ballachulish, from where the Glen opened up to us in all its great and unparralled beauty. The bridge that took us from the northern shore of now Loch Leven to the southern was just a spectacle, the road now tracking the southern shore of the Loch. The mountains and their splendour are unequalled in the english language. I personally don't think I have seen anything as majestic and spellbinding as the scene before us, with enormous highlands on both sides reaching to over 3300ft running all the way up the Glen, with the tiny village of Glencoe nestled just a mile away on the shores of the Loch, with a beautiful caravan park right on the edge.
We camped here, our tent just metres from the shore, but a tiny speck compared to the beautiful mountains that otherwise surrounded us on all sides now. Glencoe was the scene of the terrible Glencoe massacre in 1692, when after a failure by the head of the MacDonald Clan to give written assurance of his allegiance to the King, soldiers were dispatched who for weeks were hosted in the homes of the MacDonald clan, but who then received orders to kill every one of them under the age of 70yrs. The Clan chief was first to be murdered by gunshot, followed by his wife, and then followed 36 more - men women and boys and girls. The beautiful valley was the backdrop for such a terrible atrocity, for which leaders were later punished.
We slept here the night, looking forward but with some trepidation to the journey through the Geln the next day to our final camp at the village of Crianlarich.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Kilchoan - rest day - Wed 18 July
We woke to a lovely blue sky, occasional puffy white cloud and a gentle breeze off the water of Loch Sunart. Yesterday was a tough ride to Kilchoan, on the western end of the Ardnamurchan peninsula, virtually the western extremity of mainland Britain. We left Fort William in lovely sunshine, it was a fantastic run down the 12k or so to the Corran ferry, and the crossing gave glorious views back up the Loch to Fort William and Ben Nevis (4,000ft and highest in Britain).
By the time we got another 20k, the heavens opened and for the next hour we had more water dumped on us than I seem to recall. We had to keep going. The road was tough, long hills at times, and also steep long declines which is scary in drenching rain and very little brakes. This kept up as we turned west onto the 30k run to Kilchoan, only to change into sunshine again just before we hit the glorious climb up behind the neck of the Holy Mount, Ben Hiant which rises 1700ft, with the tiny but pretty village of Kilchoan on its western side. The weather is so fickle and unpredictable. We are glad the body is weatherproof, as are 'Pommie Pete's Ortlieb panniers that he lent me just before we left, for which I am daily grateful. Julie's are another story.
Today though was different. No bikes today. Julie is a Stewart, and our ride is more than a bike ride. It is physical for sure, but also spiritual. We are pilgrims, not just tourists. Julie is a daughter of Kilchoan and Sanna Bay. Coming here is not just as a tourist, but as a pilgrim to touch something of her past, her rich heritage which seeps from the very rocky outcrops of these heather covered hills.
The Stewarts were in the front line of Bonnie Prince Charles fight to regain the English and Scottish Crown at the battle of Culloden. There were 500 of them, the Prince himself of the royal line of Stewarts (he was Stuart, the french form from Mary Queen of Scots). The charge of the Highlanders ended in defeat and disaster, and the repercussions and aftermath led to much further bloodshed. We don't really know why the Stewarts were eventually found to be living at Sanna Bay, just around the headland from Kilchoan, a hundred years after the great battle that changed Scottish history forever, one of these being Julie's great great grandfather.
Following Culloden, things became quite difficult for people living in the highlands. One of the things that saved them was the introduction of potatoes, which could be grown in poor soil. They also made money from kelp (seawead), which was used for glass and soap production. Fishing was also a flourishing industry. But all this changed when cattle prices fell, kelp was no longer needed, and the fish had moved on. People struggled, and landowners saw money in something else - sheep. Families living on land owned under the old clan system were moved on (cleared) to make way for sheep. This happened later on the Ardnimurchan peninsular than other parts of Scotland. Families were cleared off lands where they'd been for generations under the old clan system, to make way for sheep farming by the land holders. Families ended up in scattered groups on impoverished soil, and expected to survive.
Sanna Bay was one such place. Villages that existed around the Ben Hiant grasslands were all cleared, and many families ended up at Sanna Bay and Portuairk, a neighboring bay. Thats where several Stewart families were known to be living in the 1840's and 50's, one of them Julie's direct ancestors. They are buried in the lovely little cemetery on the hillside overlooking the beautiful bay of the village of Kilchoan.
We sat there today, having climbed the lovely green hillside. We found numerous graves of the Stewarts, all of Sanna Bay. We knew her great great great grandparents (Allan and Mary Stewart) were buried in this cemetery, but no headstone could be found (many are unmarked). We sat there. In Julie's hand she had her Aussie flag that came with her from Australia. It flew behind her on the bike all the way from PAris, across Normandy, and into Dorset, Devon and Cornwall. The flag followed her up through England, across the Scottish border into the Highlands, to a destiny on a sunny morning overlooking Kilchoan Bay. She dearly wanted to leave her flag, sort of a part of her and the nation that had now become part of her, on the grave of her ancestor, but she was not confident of which grave. Where to put it, she just was not sure.
We looked up behind the cemetery to another hill. We were hoping we might see Sanna Bay, so we walked over the heather and between the thistles to the high mount overlooking the town, and especially the cemetery. When we finally reached the summit, we knew what to do with her Aussie flag. Someone had been there before us. They had made an altar of rocks from around the hillside. It was't tall, but an altar it was. The Scottish would call it a 'cairn'. It was obviously done with meaning, because the top rock was painted especially blue, with the white cross of St Andrew on the blue background - the national flag of Scotland.
It was a touching moment for us, as Julie gently placed her Aussie flag in the top of the altar of rocks, the flag contrasting so beautifully with the Cross of St Andrew painted on the rock. We couldn't quite see Sanna Bay, but we could see the cemetery as if we had been suspended over the top, we could see Kilchoan bay, the isle of Mull to the south across the water, and the outline of the rugged hills of the isle of sky beyond Sanna Bay. We stood holding each other - it was a tender moment for two pilgrims who had cycled a long way for this, especially one - a daughter of Kilchoan and Sanna Bay - who had somehow wanted to honour those who had gone before, and her great great grandparents (Allan and Anne Stewart) who, possibly following the clearances of 1853, and only newly married, decided to leave their families and the the hardship of Sanna Bay, and sail to Victoria, Australia to start a new life in 1854.
We fought our tears as we stood on top of this mountain, watching the flag flutter in the breeze, giving thanks to God for His incredible providential care of the Stewart family, the generations, and especially those a long way off in our own land of Australia.
We turned many times as we walked the long way back to Kilchoan Bay, for the final flutter of the little blue flag before it disappeared behind the heather. We felt it was worth the struggle to get out on such a tough road, the drenching of heavy rain, and now to face again the road back, to in this small way make contact with the generations that had gone before, and the rich heritage we have now to build upon. The rest of the day was just beautiful, neither of us wanting to face the thought of our departure on the bike early the following morning, but face it we did.
By the time we got another 20k, the heavens opened and for the next hour we had more water dumped on us than I seem to recall. We had to keep going. The road was tough, long hills at times, and also steep long declines which is scary in drenching rain and very little brakes. This kept up as we turned west onto the 30k run to Kilchoan, only to change into sunshine again just before we hit the glorious climb up behind the neck of the Holy Mount, Ben Hiant which rises 1700ft, with the tiny but pretty village of Kilchoan on its western side. The weather is so fickle and unpredictable. We are glad the body is weatherproof, as are 'Pommie Pete's Ortlieb panniers that he lent me just before we left, for which I am daily grateful. Julie's are another story.
Today though was different. No bikes today. Julie is a Stewart, and our ride is more than a bike ride. It is physical for sure, but also spiritual. We are pilgrims, not just tourists. Julie is a daughter of Kilchoan and Sanna Bay. Coming here is not just as a tourist, but as a pilgrim to touch something of her past, her rich heritage which seeps from the very rocky outcrops of these heather covered hills.
The Stewarts were in the front line of Bonnie Prince Charles fight to regain the English and Scottish Crown at the battle of Culloden. There were 500 of them, the Prince himself of the royal line of Stewarts (he was Stuart, the french form from Mary Queen of Scots). The charge of the Highlanders ended in defeat and disaster, and the repercussions and aftermath led to much further bloodshed. We don't really know why the Stewarts were eventually found to be living at Sanna Bay, just around the headland from Kilchoan, a hundred years after the great battle that changed Scottish history forever, one of these being Julie's great great grandfather.
Following Culloden, things became quite difficult for people living in the highlands. One of the things that saved them was the introduction of potatoes, which could be grown in poor soil. They also made money from kelp (seawead), which was used for glass and soap production. Fishing was also a flourishing industry. But all this changed when cattle prices fell, kelp was no longer needed, and the fish had moved on. People struggled, and landowners saw money in something else - sheep. Families living on land owned under the old clan system were moved on (cleared) to make way for sheep. This happened later on the Ardnimurchan peninsular than other parts of Scotland. Families were cleared off lands where they'd been for generations under the old clan system, to make way for sheep farming by the land holders. Families ended up in scattered groups on impoverished soil, and expected to survive.
Sanna Bay was one such place. Villages that existed around the Ben Hiant grasslands were all cleared, and many families ended up at Sanna Bay and Portuairk, a neighboring bay. Thats where several Stewart families were known to be living in the 1840's and 50's, one of them Julie's direct ancestors. They are buried in the lovely little cemetery on the hillside overlooking the beautiful bay of the village of Kilchoan.
We sat there today, having climbed the lovely green hillside. We found numerous graves of the Stewarts, all of Sanna Bay. We knew her great great great grandparents (Allan and Mary Stewart) were buried in this cemetery, but no headstone could be found (many are unmarked). We sat there. In Julie's hand she had her Aussie flag that came with her from Australia. It flew behind her on the bike all the way from PAris, across Normandy, and into Dorset, Devon and Cornwall. The flag followed her up through England, across the Scottish border into the Highlands, to a destiny on a sunny morning overlooking Kilchoan Bay. She dearly wanted to leave her flag, sort of a part of her and the nation that had now become part of her, on the grave of her ancestor, but she was not confident of which grave. Where to put it, she just was not sure.
We looked up behind the cemetery to another hill. We were hoping we might see Sanna Bay, so we walked over the heather and between the thistles to the high mount overlooking the town, and especially the cemetery. When we finally reached the summit, we knew what to do with her Aussie flag. Someone had been there before us. They had made an altar of rocks from around the hillside. It was't tall, but an altar it was. The Scottish would call it a 'cairn'. It was obviously done with meaning, because the top rock was painted especially blue, with the white cross of St Andrew on the blue background - the national flag of Scotland.
It was a touching moment for us, as Julie gently placed her Aussie flag in the top of the altar of rocks, the flag contrasting so beautifully with the Cross of St Andrew painted on the rock. We couldn't quite see Sanna Bay, but we could see the cemetery as if we had been suspended over the top, we could see Kilchoan bay, the isle of Mull to the south across the water, and the outline of the rugged hills of the isle of sky beyond Sanna Bay. We stood holding each other - it was a tender moment for two pilgrims who had cycled a long way for this, especially one - a daughter of Kilchoan and Sanna Bay - who had somehow wanted to honour those who had gone before, and her great great grandparents (Allan and Anne Stewart) who, possibly following the clearances of 1853, and only newly married, decided to leave their families and the the hardship of Sanna Bay, and sail to Victoria, Australia to start a new life in 1854.
We fought our tears as we stood on top of this mountain, watching the flag flutter in the breeze, giving thanks to God for His incredible providential care of the Stewart family, the generations, and especially those a long way off in our own land of Australia.
We turned many times as we walked the long way back to Kilchoan Bay, for the final flutter of the little blue flag before it disappeared behind the heather. We felt it was worth the struggle to get out on such a tough road, the drenching of heavy rain, and now to face again the road back, to in this small way make contact with the generations that had gone before, and the rich heritage we have now to build upon. The rest of the day was just beautiful, neither of us wanting to face the thought of our departure on the bike early the following morning, but face it we did.
Fort William to Kilchoan - 87k - Tues 17th july
We decided to change our planned route, and cut straight to Kilchoan the 'short' way via the Corran Ferry, rather than the long way round past Glenfinnan where the Bonnie Prince Charles Memorial is (where he raised his standard and called the rebels to the cause, which resulted in the debacle at Cullodden). It meant also missing the famous Glenfinnan viaduct, the rail bridge that features on Harry Potter with the Jacobite Steam Railway.
It also meant we would arrive at Kilchoan a day earlier, and therefore spend a free day at Kilchoen, where Julie's ancestral family originate.
I have run out of time on the net here at the Kilchoen Community Centre, so will complete this when we get to Stirling.
Suffice to say, we had a solid ride to get to Kilchoen, the Adrnamurchin penonsular a tough ride for any cyclist, with massive clombs up behind the holy Mountain Ben Hiant at 1700ft straight out of the sae.
But today (our rest day), we walked and rode our bikes at great leisure on a beautiful sunny day all over Kilchoen. We spent ages at the old cemetrery, and I want to tell you what Julie did with her Aussie flag that she has flown behind her bike for the last 3200k's - when I have more time.
It has been aspecial day.
We ride out tomorrow - back over the same ground - to Glencoe - the sight of the Glencoe masacres - then up through Crianlarich - some of the highesy mountains in Scotland - for hopefully a downhill finish at Stirling on Saturday.
So I'll fill this bit in with more detail later. We are both fine - I am much thinner than when I left, but ever so glad and enriched for this experience.
Until then - we send our love - Kelvin and Julie
It also meant we would arrive at Kilchoan a day earlier, and therefore spend a free day at Kilchoen, where Julie's ancestral family originate.
I have run out of time on the net here at the Kilchoen Community Centre, so will complete this when we get to Stirling.
Suffice to say, we had a solid ride to get to Kilchoen, the Adrnamurchin penonsular a tough ride for any cyclist, with massive clombs up behind the holy Mountain Ben Hiant at 1700ft straight out of the sae.
But today (our rest day), we walked and rode our bikes at great leisure on a beautiful sunny day all over Kilchoen. We spent ages at the old cemetrery, and I want to tell you what Julie did with her Aussie flag that she has flown behind her bike for the last 3200k's - when I have more time.
It has been aspecial day.
We ride out tomorrow - back over the same ground - to Glencoe - the sight of the Glencoe masacres - then up through Crianlarich - some of the highesy mountains in Scotland - for hopefully a downhill finish at Stirling on Saturday.
So I'll fill this bit in with more detail later. We are both fine - I am much thinner than when I left, but ever so glad and enriched for this experience.
Until then - we send our love - Kelvin and Julie
Fort Augustus to Fort William - 53k - Mon 16th July
It rained through the night, and was still raining in the morning. We ate in the tent, and had to make the dreaded decision to pack up in the rain, and head off. The tent was packed dripping wet, as were we before we even got on the bike. It rained all the way to Fort William, but it was nevertheless a great day.
Its not very comfortable, but the scenery is still gtreat, although there was lots of mist and lots of water everywhere. After several miles I decided we would still have photos, so we risked the camera, which was wet anyway in my back pocket. We were following the Caledonian canal, which opened up eventually to Loch Oich, then Loch Lochie all the way to Fort William.
About 10miles before Fort William the road cuts away from the Loch, and rises for quite some time. I think its harder riding long hills in the heavy rain. However, we knew eventually thatw e would come out on top of a high point at the wonderful Memorial to the British Commandos, the Green Berets. It was pouring with rain, but we pulled, our feet and legs were frozen with the cold, our hands seemed numb, but we kind of reflected that conditions for many of these brave young men would have been far worse, so we took time in the rain to view the memorial and read the memorial plaques that were there. The saddest of all were the last tributes - to young men just recently killed in actions in Iraq and Afganistan, as recently as weeks past.
We headed off, and immediately the road plummeted down into the village of Spean Bridge, across the bridge, and on our final approach of some 15k or so to Fort William. Sadly, the highest mountain on mainland Britain, Ben Nevis, was fogged in as we cycled past its base. We never saw the top.
We arrived in Fort William cold, wet and a bit bedraggled, having decidied it was no time to set up a soggy tent in the wet and raining conditions. We found a room at the Bank St Lodge, and spent a happy night there meeting lots of other mostly younger visitors from around the world.
Its not very comfortable, but the scenery is still gtreat, although there was lots of mist and lots of water everywhere. After several miles I decided we would still have photos, so we risked the camera, which was wet anyway in my back pocket. We were following the Caledonian canal, which opened up eventually to Loch Oich, then Loch Lochie all the way to Fort William.
About 10miles before Fort William the road cuts away from the Loch, and rises for quite some time. I think its harder riding long hills in the heavy rain. However, we knew eventually thatw e would come out on top of a high point at the wonderful Memorial to the British Commandos, the Green Berets. It was pouring with rain, but we pulled, our feet and legs were frozen with the cold, our hands seemed numb, but we kind of reflected that conditions for many of these brave young men would have been far worse, so we took time in the rain to view the memorial and read the memorial plaques that were there. The saddest of all were the last tributes - to young men just recently killed in actions in Iraq and Afganistan, as recently as weeks past.
We headed off, and immediately the road plummeted down into the village of Spean Bridge, across the bridge, and on our final approach of some 15k or so to Fort William. Sadly, the highest mountain on mainland Britain, Ben Nevis, was fogged in as we cycled past its base. We never saw the top.
We arrived in Fort William cold, wet and a bit bedraggled, having decidied it was no time to set up a soggy tent in the wet and raining conditions. We found a room at the Bank St Lodge, and spent a happy night there meeting lots of other mostly younger visitors from around the world.
Evanton to Fort Augustus - 81k - Sun 15th July
We woke to a perfectly beautiful day. Some wind, but the sun was shing and the sky was blue. It was a great day for our meeting with the Loch Ness monster just a few miles to the south!
We took the A862 to Dingwall, then on to Conon Bridge and Muir of Ord, all small villages but very pretty. The countryside was beautiful, espeically as we followed the coastline of the Cromarty Firth for quite some time until heading off into the countryside. Once into the countryside, the roads started to climb, not so much steeply but long and gradual, making us work hard nevertheless.
We were obviously climbing up and over high country before we took a dive down onto the shores of Loch Ness. We were on the A833, and the stretch across country was about 20k which got harder and harder, but the sights of the mountains around us were so attractive. We were aiming for the village of Drumnadrochit on the shores of Loch Ness, but for a long while it seemed all up and not down. We crested the mountain section finally, and there was the sign - 15% descent down into the village of Milton, one mile from 'the Drum'.
It was a very fast drop, with two severaly steep sections. We were just thinking to ourselves that we were glad we didn't have to ridse back up. We had lunch at this very very attractive little town, which was full of tourists and touristy shops with coffee and Scottish souviners. We had one of our bike lunches, and headed off for the ruins of Urquart Castle, which was where the road meets Loch Ness. It was a long pull up and out of the town, but the views of Loch Ness were just startling, a photographic paradise. We just ahd to stop numerous times and adore the scenery. The boats out on the Loch made it look like a watery paradise.
Over the top the castle ruins came into view. This is one of the great castles, but ruined really by the massive car park and high wall separating the castle from any public view unless you may the highly exorbitent price. Being cyclists, we can stop at places where cars have no chance, and we had the best views from high above looking down over the castle, and avoided the massive charges and queues of people. From there we followed Loch Ness for its full length heading for the Lch village of Fort Augustus.
Some 6 miles from Fort Augustus, we came to the little village of Invermoriston, which has a small shop, but a beautiful old bridge across the river at the bottom of Loch Ness. We shouted something like 'coffee' to break the time up before our final leg. I stopped for a photo, Julie went around the corner for the bridge, and I thought she just cycled on. So I then cycled around the corner and saw no sight of her, and I took photos off the bridge, before setting off after her. I rode the fastest 10k to Fort Augustus of our 3000k journey and caught no sight of her, not knowing that she had wheeled around the corner into a car park at Invermoriston, to look for the coffee shop. Realising that I was not there, she set off after me, and I didn't know that she was chasing me!
I got to Fort Augustus with no sign of her, parked my bike in the middle of the street, and walked into the TIC, when a very puffing Julie pulls up just minuts after me. Realising what we had both done, we had a great laugh, both of us breaking our 'pb's - the fastest 10k of the whole journey. We slept well at the beautiful camping ground with magnificent views of stunning mountains all around.
We took the A862 to Dingwall, then on to Conon Bridge and Muir of Ord, all small villages but very pretty. The countryside was beautiful, espeically as we followed the coastline of the Cromarty Firth for quite some time until heading off into the countryside. Once into the countryside, the roads started to climb, not so much steeply but long and gradual, making us work hard nevertheless.
We were obviously climbing up and over high country before we took a dive down onto the shores of Loch Ness. We were on the A833, and the stretch across country was about 20k which got harder and harder, but the sights of the mountains around us were so attractive. We were aiming for the village of Drumnadrochit on the shores of Loch Ness, but for a long while it seemed all up and not down. We crested the mountain section finally, and there was the sign - 15% descent down into the village of Milton, one mile from 'the Drum'.
It was a very fast drop, with two severaly steep sections. We were just thinking to ourselves that we were glad we didn't have to ridse back up. We had lunch at this very very attractive little town, which was full of tourists and touristy shops with coffee and Scottish souviners. We had one of our bike lunches, and headed off for the ruins of Urquart Castle, which was where the road meets Loch Ness. It was a long pull up and out of the town, but the views of Loch Ness were just startling, a photographic paradise. We just ahd to stop numerous times and adore the scenery. The boats out on the Loch made it look like a watery paradise.
Over the top the castle ruins came into view. This is one of the great castles, but ruined really by the massive car park and high wall separating the castle from any public view unless you may the highly exorbitent price. Being cyclists, we can stop at places where cars have no chance, and we had the best views from high above looking down over the castle, and avoided the massive charges and queues of people. From there we followed Loch Ness for its full length heading for the Lch village of Fort Augustus.
Some 6 miles from Fort Augustus, we came to the little village of Invermoriston, which has a small shop, but a beautiful old bridge across the river at the bottom of Loch Ness. We shouted something like 'coffee' to break the time up before our final leg. I stopped for a photo, Julie went around the corner for the bridge, and I thought she just cycled on. So I then cycled around the corner and saw no sight of her, and I took photos off the bridge, before setting off after her. I rode the fastest 10k to Fort Augustus of our 3000k journey and caught no sight of her, not knowing that she had wheeled around the corner into a car park at Invermoriston, to look for the coffee shop. Realising that I was not there, she set off after me, and I didn't know that she was chasing me!
I got to Fort Augustus with no sign of her, parked my bike in the middle of the street, and walked into the TIC, when a very puffing Julie pulls up just minuts after me. Realising what we had both done, we had a great laugh, both of us breaking our 'pb's - the fastest 10k of the whole journey. We slept well at the beautiful camping ground with magnificent views of stunning mountains all around.
Helmsdale to Evanton - 92k - Sat 14 July
We woke to w et and windy day, it having rained most of the night. We rolled out of town, with a southerly wind into our faces, across the new bridge built from the stones of the old Helmsdale castle. The castle would have been better. Instead, they built a memorial on the spot to the families affected by the land clearances - we could see an aussie flag blowing from our hotel window - there were several flags of the countries who accepted familes as immigrants who were sadly affected by this. The road south basically followed the lovely coastline. \while never flat, it was pretty despite the hard work always into the wind.
We were dressed in our full cold weather gear today. I must say \i made a mistake with yesterdays report - I mentioned Dunrobin Castle - well it was todays trip, not yesterday. As we approached the village of Goldspie, the beautiful castle stood out much like the fantasy castle of Walt Disney. It was a sight to behold, along with the rugged remains of the 2000yr old 'cairn' fort on the side of the road just before the castle.
We aimed for the town of Dornoch for lunch. Off the highway, we had to firstly cross the Loch Fleet - always a lovely bridge with its turnoff to Lairg where we had been days before. The road swept se, from where we turned off on to narrow farm lanes for several miles with great sights of farms, staone walls and the waters of the Firth. Dornoch is famous for the final execution of Englands last 'witch' trial, and as the home of Duncan Ross the father figure of modern Golf. It has a 13th century Cathedral. We loved the town, and always sad to leave without taking it all in.
We headed across country again for several k before coming to the long bridge that crosses the Dornoch Firth, which we could see several days earlier on our way north from closer to Bonar Bridge and Strui Hill. The wind was that strong we had to hang on for dear life. It was cutting across us and we were very exposed.
After Tain, we counted the miles down still fighting with the wind, until we got into the cover of the lovely tree lined minor road that took us to the tiny village of Evanton. We started our final leg into the far north from Evanton some 4-5 days earlier. The camping ground is a picture, besde the River Glass and set against the beautiful dark forest on the mountains behind, featured in Harry Potter.
We were glad to be in. Sometime during the afternoon the rain stopped, but the wind stayed strong. We had a nicely protected camp site, and by now it just seemed like a lovely summer's afternoon. We enjoyed one of our 'special' dinners on the Trangia!
We were dressed in our full cold weather gear today. I must say \i made a mistake with yesterdays report - I mentioned Dunrobin Castle - well it was todays trip, not yesterday. As we approached the village of Goldspie, the beautiful castle stood out much like the fantasy castle of Walt Disney. It was a sight to behold, along with the rugged remains of the 2000yr old 'cairn' fort on the side of the road just before the castle.
We aimed for the town of Dornoch for lunch. Off the highway, we had to firstly cross the Loch Fleet - always a lovely bridge with its turnoff to Lairg where we had been days before. The road swept se, from where we turned off on to narrow farm lanes for several miles with great sights of farms, staone walls and the waters of the Firth. Dornoch is famous for the final execution of Englands last 'witch' trial, and as the home of Duncan Ross the father figure of modern Golf. It has a 13th century Cathedral. We loved the town, and always sad to leave without taking it all in.
We headed across country again for several k before coming to the long bridge that crosses the Dornoch Firth, which we could see several days earlier on our way north from closer to Bonar Bridge and Strui Hill. The wind was that strong we had to hang on for dear life. It was cutting across us and we were very exposed.
After Tain, we counted the miles down still fighting with the wind, until we got into the cover of the lovely tree lined minor road that took us to the tiny village of Evanton. We started our final leg into the far north from Evanton some 4-5 days earlier. The camping ground is a picture, besde the River Glass and set against the beautiful dark forest on the mountains behind, featured in Harry Potter.
We were glad to be in. Sometime during the afternoon the rain stopped, but the wind stayed strong. We had a nicely protected camp site, and by now it just seemed like a lovely summer's afternoon. We enjoyed one of our 'special' dinners on the Trangia!
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
John O'Groats to Helmsdale - 87k - Fri 13 July
It was a cool and overcast day when we finally said goodbye to John O'Groats, the original ferry service set up by Jan de Groot several hundred years earlier, by authority of the King of Scotland in order to get a formal connection to the Orkneys, and claim greater ownership from Norway of the 63 or so islands that make up the group. The long but gentle hiil out went on for several kilometers, giving occasional glimpses back over the basically flat dairy countryside.
The wind was blowing now from the south, so we faced it all day. I guess when you have been in a country as long as we have, you should expect to get the wind from all directions. We have had a good share. The sceneray was lovely nevertheless. We were on the A99 heading for the town of Wick about 26k away. It wasn't long before we picked up the outline of the great Noss Head sticking out into the North Sea, and then the faint outlines of the two castles, Girnigo and Sinclair.
We soon arrived at Wick, but because we had our sights set on the village of Latheron for lunch, another 26k, we just cycled straight through and out the other side, climbing up a reasonable hill to the top on the bottom side. We stopped for a 'breather', then put our heads down and kept going. It was hard work into the head wind. There were numerous long inclines that kept us working hard into the wind. We had the ocean to our left, and mostly visible, and lovely rural scenes passing to our right, with loads of evidence of generations of old and the disused stones houses and buildings that stand these days more as stone memorials to the past. We were in Caithness after all.
We could see the dreaded signs of rain in the distance, so we pulled over just in time to cover up and put coats on. Then the heavens opened on us, yet again! The coastline was occasionally dramatic, with cliffs and beautiful steep fields leading to the edges, all the time we were going up and down, the longer inclines making it serious going for us. The rain made things miserable enough for us to just want to be in our rooms at Helmsdale, but we still had a while to go.
Latheron came at last, but was more a hamlet of scattered houses with lovely coastal views, so we had lunch in the standing position looking out over fields of sheep, the ocean and the network of lovely ancient stone walled paddacks, having our banana and apples sandwiches.
We had 32k to go to Helmsdale. There were two towns in between, each seemed to be in a deep cravass, which probably meant steep descents and then steep ascents. Dunbeath wasn't so bad. It was a long descending open road with a corresponding long sweeping rise again to the top, over the Dunbeath Water. It was a great view, but a slow long pull out the other side.
Berridale was next. It started with the warning sign - 14% descent - and the road really dropped suddenly, with tight curves dropping all the way to the bottom. I stopped for photos from the top, but Julie just dived down. I was still taking photos when I saw her lonely figure so small in the distance having started the ginormously steep ascent out of the valley on the other side. Then I followed. I measrued 2k from bottom to top, and it was a killer. Julie chose the walk from about half way, to enjoy the staggering view better. It made the sweat drip down the face. It was a very tough long climb, which after 2k kept climbing for nseveral more but at a much lesser rate.
On the final approach to Helmsdale, we passed the very beautiful Dunrobin Castle, and popped in. We also passed a 2,000yr old 'cairn', the remains of a stone fort, just at the side of the road. The final descent into Helmsdale started from about 5k out, and spiralled around the dramatic coastline, dropping in to the village like a glider. We were doing 50kph on our descent, the view just glorious. When we finally came to a stop at the bottom on the edge of the little village with its own dock, set against incrediblly steep and stunning hills to the back, we looked for our Hoetl - the Belgrave Arms. They had lost our reservation, but had a room anyway, and we were glad to be inside, out of the weather. We had worked very hard today, and glad to have a television and a jog to make 'bottomless' coffee.
Tomorrow we get back to Evanton, from where we started our final assault on the northern coasts of Scotland, before heading to Fort William, Kilchoan and then finally to Stirling in a week's time to bring our great cycling adventure to an end.
We are grateful for your continuing thoughts and prayers. Until then.....K&J
The wind was blowing now from the south, so we faced it all day. I guess when you have been in a country as long as we have, you should expect to get the wind from all directions. We have had a good share. The sceneray was lovely nevertheless. We were on the A99 heading for the town of Wick about 26k away. It wasn't long before we picked up the outline of the great Noss Head sticking out into the North Sea, and then the faint outlines of the two castles, Girnigo and Sinclair.
We soon arrived at Wick, but because we had our sights set on the village of Latheron for lunch, another 26k, we just cycled straight through and out the other side, climbing up a reasonable hill to the top on the bottom side. We stopped for a 'breather', then put our heads down and kept going. It was hard work into the head wind. There were numerous long inclines that kept us working hard into the wind. We had the ocean to our left, and mostly visible, and lovely rural scenes passing to our right, with loads of evidence of generations of old and the disused stones houses and buildings that stand these days more as stone memorials to the past. We were in Caithness after all.
We could see the dreaded signs of rain in the distance, so we pulled over just in time to cover up and put coats on. Then the heavens opened on us, yet again! The coastline was occasionally dramatic, with cliffs and beautiful steep fields leading to the edges, all the time we were going up and down, the longer inclines making it serious going for us. The rain made things miserable enough for us to just want to be in our rooms at Helmsdale, but we still had a while to go.
Latheron came at last, but was more a hamlet of scattered houses with lovely coastal views, so we had lunch in the standing position looking out over fields of sheep, the ocean and the network of lovely ancient stone walled paddacks, having our banana and apples sandwiches.
We had 32k to go to Helmsdale. There were two towns in between, each seemed to be in a deep cravass, which probably meant steep descents and then steep ascents. Dunbeath wasn't so bad. It was a long descending open road with a corresponding long sweeping rise again to the top, over the Dunbeath Water. It was a great view, but a slow long pull out the other side.
Berridale was next. It started with the warning sign - 14% descent - and the road really dropped suddenly, with tight curves dropping all the way to the bottom. I stopped for photos from the top, but Julie just dived down. I was still taking photos when I saw her lonely figure so small in the distance having started the ginormously steep ascent out of the valley on the other side. Then I followed. I measrued 2k from bottom to top, and it was a killer. Julie chose the walk from about half way, to enjoy the staggering view better. It made the sweat drip down the face. It was a very tough long climb, which after 2k kept climbing for nseveral more but at a much lesser rate.
On the final approach to Helmsdale, we passed the very beautiful Dunrobin Castle, and popped in. We also passed a 2,000yr old 'cairn', the remains of a stone fort, just at the side of the road. The final descent into Helmsdale started from about 5k out, and spiralled around the dramatic coastline, dropping in to the village like a glider. We were doing 50kph on our descent, the view just glorious. When we finally came to a stop at the bottom on the edge of the little village with its own dock, set against incrediblly steep and stunning hills to the back, we looked for our Hoetl - the Belgrave Arms. They had lost our reservation, but had a room anyway, and we were glad to be inside, out of the weather. We had worked very hard today, and glad to have a television and a jog to make 'bottomless' coffee.
Tomorrow we get back to Evanton, from where we started our final assault on the northern coasts of Scotland, before heading to Fort William, Kilchoan and then finally to Stirling in a week's time to bring our great cycling adventure to an end.
We are grateful for your continuing thoughts and prayers. Until then.....K&J
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Bettyhill to John O'Groats! - 86k - Thurs 12 July
We woke in our upstairs room at the Bettyhill Hotel to rain and cold conditions outside. The mist had rolled in from the west, giving very poor visibility in any direction. It was a cold and bleak departure from this tiny village perched on a craggy hilltop on the rugged northern coastline of Scotland.
At 10am we rolled away, and immediately the road plummeted back to the bottom of a very steep hill. The book told us we would have 6 very steep climbs in the first 17 miles (25k). This was to get us at a sea level start for the first one, which started at the bottom, and immediately went up. It was a tough climb, but not as bad as we've had. Julie went straight up and over the top. She is doing extremely well on the bike now. I suspect also she is scenting the salt air of John O'Groats just down the road, and the achievement of something that just started as a dream - to ride her bike from 'End to End'.
We climbed to great heights with staggering scenery despite the very wet conditions and low misty cloud. The coastlline is extremely rugged, and the hills have dramatic drops which give the place a lot of character. We were meeting loose sheep along the roads, who also grazed on the very steep slopes away from the road. It was startling to look down into the valleys, and especially back towards Bettyhill down the valley which was just a picture. It would have been quite startling in good weather and bright sunshine.
We climbed the 2nd of our long climbs and over the top, and were on a very fast descent before the third, going down into the little village of Armadale. It was a long open sweeping descent, and we were doing 40kph with Julie just in front of me. With wet road and the kind of descent we were doing, your eyes just watch the road. We didn't see the sign - they are always so well signed, but we both saw it in front of us and there was nothing we could do - certainly couldn't brake - but a cattle grid had suddenly loomed into our path. Julie hit it first with simply a 'blip' and then I did the same - I think our hearts stopped beating for a few seconds wondering what would become of us - but we went over it just like a car would - actually we hardly felt it. But when you condider its made of parallel railway tracks about 6'' apart, it is quite an obstacle for a bike! We always walk across them.
We did the third long climb - none of them being too tough for Julie. She is really impressive today. We passed through the village of Strathie, and then the turn off to 'Brawl' - wondering what it was that gave its name! We were counting off the climbs, and I think we got to four, wondering where the final two were, because we were running out of distance. The fifth one loomed into the picture somewhere before Melvich, and for some reason we couldn't find the 6th, or we had climbed it and not counted it because it didn't seem like such a tough climb.
The rugged coastline and solid hills turned into flat farming country after about 39k, and it was like this all the way to John O'Groats. We picked up the speed, and flew the long flats and gentle downhills, stopping a fair bit to take photos. We had crossed the border from County Sutherland with its strong gaelic influence, into County Caithness with its strong influence from the Nords. The place was rather rocky, and there was incredible evidence of the early Nordic settlements, with especially the formations and constructions that they did with the unique slated rock that is prevalent throughout Caithness.
Caithness used to belong to the Norse Earldom under fee to the King of Norway along with the Orkneys, until 1266 when it was ceded to the Scottish Crown in the Treaty of Perth. We passed through Thurso (named after Thor the god of war by the Nords) eventually coming across the Dounreay Nuclear Power Station, which seems to be a blight on this otherwise beautiful and natural countryside.
Somthing for Grandad Stewart to research - the Power Station is built on an old WW2 airfield which you may wish to follow up. The runway is now used as the carpark, and looks incredible from a heighted distance. We passed the Queen Mother's former residence, the Castle of Mey at the village of Mey, with Dunnet Head the northern most point of British mainland now very prominent. We had been able to see the shadowy Orkney's for quite some time, in which was also Scapa Flow.
We were able to use the big gears a lot now, and enjoyed the cycling. The rain had cleared and the roads were rather dry now, but the sky still mostly overcast. We were keen to get to John O'Groats before 5pm so we didn't miss the little man who takes the official photos!
We had lunch in any case at Thurso, then set off for the final leg. It was 3pm and we had 32k to go, and we rolled into the long straight into John O'Groats at just after 4:30pm, having done remarkably well given the heavy loads we carry. I sat behind Julie all the way. Being the unit's official photographer, I have to keep stopping while I tell Julie to keep riding and I'll catch her. I am sure she rides faster so making it harder for me to catch her again!
The area around JOG is very flat farming land. Many might say its unspectacular, but I didn't think so. We were quite keyed up, having come this far and to finally reach this great milestone. The first thing that came into view was the Seaview Hotel with the official welcome sign to John O'Groats township. We stopped for our own photos here, first I took Julie's photo, then I had to line up beside the post for Julie to take. In juggling the heavy bike into position, it overbalanced the wrong way, and I went down with the 'ship', sprawled on the road intertwined in the bike, making a great spectacle for passers by. Having ridden all this way, I fall off the bike at the John O'Groats welcome sign!
We rolled down to the dock where the TIC was located, along with the John O'Groats hotel and several other touristy shops. It is a really lovely sight, We lined up for the official photo and happily paid the man his few pounds, and he also happily took further free ones for us on our camera.
So folks - after nearly 3,000k from Paris, and 2,000k from Land's End - WE MADE IT - in one piece with very few mishaps and all healthy and happy.
We are at Beauly today (15th Sun) just a few miles from Loch Ness on our final few days, before reaching Stirling next Saturday. Getting access to email is alsways difficult, so uif we can't get access before Stirling - we've had a great run back down the east coast. It poured rain most of yesterday, we had some very steep climbs the day before, but today the sun is out and the sky is all blue, and we are doing fine.
Until then - love from us. K&J
At 10am we rolled away, and immediately the road plummeted back to the bottom of a very steep hill. The book told us we would have 6 very steep climbs in the first 17 miles (25k). This was to get us at a sea level start for the first one, which started at the bottom, and immediately went up. It was a tough climb, but not as bad as we've had. Julie went straight up and over the top. She is doing extremely well on the bike now. I suspect also she is scenting the salt air of John O'Groats just down the road, and the achievement of something that just started as a dream - to ride her bike from 'End to End'.
We climbed to great heights with staggering scenery despite the very wet conditions and low misty cloud. The coastlline is extremely rugged, and the hills have dramatic drops which give the place a lot of character. We were meeting loose sheep along the roads, who also grazed on the very steep slopes away from the road. It was startling to look down into the valleys, and especially back towards Bettyhill down the valley which was just a picture. It would have been quite startling in good weather and bright sunshine.
We climbed the 2nd of our long climbs and over the top, and were on a very fast descent before the third, going down into the little village of Armadale. It was a long open sweeping descent, and we were doing 40kph with Julie just in front of me. With wet road and the kind of descent we were doing, your eyes just watch the road. We didn't see the sign - they are always so well signed, but we both saw it in front of us and there was nothing we could do - certainly couldn't brake - but a cattle grid had suddenly loomed into our path. Julie hit it first with simply a 'blip' and then I did the same - I think our hearts stopped beating for a few seconds wondering what would become of us - but we went over it just like a car would - actually we hardly felt it. But when you condider its made of parallel railway tracks about 6'' apart, it is quite an obstacle for a bike! We always walk across them.
We did the third long climb - none of them being too tough for Julie. She is really impressive today. We passed through the village of Strathie, and then the turn off to 'Brawl' - wondering what it was that gave its name! We were counting off the climbs, and I think we got to four, wondering where the final two were, because we were running out of distance. The fifth one loomed into the picture somewhere before Melvich, and for some reason we couldn't find the 6th, or we had climbed it and not counted it because it didn't seem like such a tough climb.
The rugged coastline and solid hills turned into flat farming country after about 39k, and it was like this all the way to John O'Groats. We picked up the speed, and flew the long flats and gentle downhills, stopping a fair bit to take photos. We had crossed the border from County Sutherland with its strong gaelic influence, into County Caithness with its strong influence from the Nords. The place was rather rocky, and there was incredible evidence of the early Nordic settlements, with especially the formations and constructions that they did with the unique slated rock that is prevalent throughout Caithness.
Caithness used to belong to the Norse Earldom under fee to the King of Norway along with the Orkneys, until 1266 when it was ceded to the Scottish Crown in the Treaty of Perth. We passed through Thurso (named after Thor the god of war by the Nords) eventually coming across the Dounreay Nuclear Power Station, which seems to be a blight on this otherwise beautiful and natural countryside.
Somthing for Grandad Stewart to research - the Power Station is built on an old WW2 airfield which you may wish to follow up. The runway is now used as the carpark, and looks incredible from a heighted distance. We passed the Queen Mother's former residence, the Castle of Mey at the village of Mey, with Dunnet Head the northern most point of British mainland now very prominent. We had been able to see the shadowy Orkney's for quite some time, in which was also Scapa Flow.
We were able to use the big gears a lot now, and enjoyed the cycling. The rain had cleared and the roads were rather dry now, but the sky still mostly overcast. We were keen to get to John O'Groats before 5pm so we didn't miss the little man who takes the official photos!
We had lunch in any case at Thurso, then set off for the final leg. It was 3pm and we had 32k to go, and we rolled into the long straight into John O'Groats at just after 4:30pm, having done remarkably well given the heavy loads we carry. I sat behind Julie all the way. Being the unit's official photographer, I have to keep stopping while I tell Julie to keep riding and I'll catch her. I am sure she rides faster so making it harder for me to catch her again!
The area around JOG is very flat farming land. Many might say its unspectacular, but I didn't think so. We were quite keyed up, having come this far and to finally reach this great milestone. The first thing that came into view was the Seaview Hotel with the official welcome sign to John O'Groats township. We stopped for our own photos here, first I took Julie's photo, then I had to line up beside the post for Julie to take. In juggling the heavy bike into position, it overbalanced the wrong way, and I went down with the 'ship', sprawled on the road intertwined in the bike, making a great spectacle for passers by. Having ridden all this way, I fall off the bike at the John O'Groats welcome sign!
We rolled down to the dock where the TIC was located, along with the John O'Groats hotel and several other touristy shops. It is a really lovely sight, We lined up for the official photo and happily paid the man his few pounds, and he also happily took further free ones for us on our camera.
So folks - after nearly 3,000k from Paris, and 2,000k from Land's End - WE MADE IT - in one piece with very few mishaps and all healthy and happy.
We are at Beauly today (15th Sun) just a few miles from Loch Ness on our final few days, before reaching Stirling next Saturday. Getting access to email is alsways difficult, so uif we can't get access before Stirling - we've had a great run back down the east coast. It poured rain most of yesterday, we had some very steep climbs the day before, but today the sun is out and the sky is all blue, and we are doing fine.
Until then - love from us. K&J
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Lairg to Bettyhill - 75k - Wed 11 July
We decided to get on the road and get to Bettyhill as soon as we could. We were booked in to the Bettyhill Hotel. We were on the road by 9:10am, quite a good start for us. We bought some groceries, and headed off into the strongest of winds from the north, perhaps north west. They were bitterly cold and blowing a gale, as only you could imagine coming from the north Atlantic. It felt like it was off the polar caps!
We were headed due north today, so we looked forward to the wind all day for the 75k trip to Bettyhill. We were on the A836, which just north of Lairg turned into a single lane road and remained that way all the way. I must say this was probably our most spectacular day, and that is a big claim. Words can hardly explain the sheer beauty and majesty of the mountains, the glens (valleys), the rivers and the paddocks, farmhouses of stone and miles of stone fencing at times.
Our first goal was the Inn at Crask, reputedly the coldest place in Scotland. I said to Julie it can't be right - it has to be the coldest place on earth! It was cold, and we laboured happily into the wickedly cold wind, because the scenery was so spectacular. We initally followed the edge of Loch Shin for a while, then the Strath Tirry (river). The beautiful mountains loomed all around, especially Ben Klibreck at over 3000ft to the north east of Crask. We had to keep stopping for photos. The first 20k or so from Lairg was a gradual and continual climb in altitude. With the wind also, we were doing between 9-16kph, mostly in our lower gears. It wasn't hard, but the wind was a little wearing at times.
Crask seems to be in the far reaches of a wilderness. We passed straight through, not wanting to stop due to the cold wind. The views though were simply spectacular, so we frequently stopped to take photos as best we could. From Crask we followed along the Strath Bagastie until we came to the little and extremely attractive hamlet of Altnaharra. The previous 15k or so was done at great speed because the gradual incline had turned into a slight descent all the way to Altnaharra. We were both flying in our large chain rings, making excellent time and enjoying the cycling immensely.
Just through Altnaharra we turned east on the B873 that follows the entire length of Loch Naver (part of Strath Naver). Guess what - we had the gale behind us now - so we were both in our big chain rings and powering with the help of the wind. The views were so lovely - across the loch, up the surrounding mountains and into the fields loaded with sheep. We also had loose sheep on the road, so we had to be extremely careful. After about 12k the road turned north, and we were back into the wind, which seemed to get gradually worse the closer we got to Bettyhill.
We still followed the River Naver, all the way to Bettyhill, still 30k to the north. We were riding past special viewing points that drew attention to the terrible things that happened in the early 1800's with the clearance of familes and entire communities from the homes and fields that they worked, so that the owners could turn their land over to sheep grazing. This happened over large parts of Scotland, but Bettyhill was the focus of the scandallous actions that affected so many thousands of Scottish families.
Despite the howling cold wind, we loved the ride into Bettyhill. There were some strong inclines, but also some nice descents also. The views along the river valley were really something special. The closer we got to Bettyhill the more spectacular and rugged the landscape became.
We finally met the A836 coming from Tongue to the west (where Bonnie Prince Charles made his escape after the Battle of Culloden), with the final few miles into Bettyhill just a spectacle of sheer beauty and rugged coastline. The wind just about blew us to a standstill, but we made the final 2k 'moderate climb' up the side of the rugged coastline to the tiny but scattered buildings making up the Bettyhill community.
The beautiful old Hotel is situated right on top of the 'hill' with panoramic views over the rugged coastline of the Torrisdale Bay. Built in 1819 by the House of Sutherland, it was a coaching Inn which was popular with especially fishermen because the Strath Naver is one of Scotland's greatest salmon rivers.
This is rugged Scotland at its remote best. Everywhere we turned we saw a photo in it. We were glad to be very early today - in by 2:30pm - I think our earliest day. The Hotel is perched high, with great views over the northern rugged coast of Scotland out into either the Atlantic or the North Sea, or both. Maybe they join about here.
We too are perched to tomorrow get ourselves to John O'Groats - the furthest most point from Land's End on the southern tip of Cornwall. It is not over for us, but the 'End to End' for us has been a significant part of our Paris-Stirling adventure. It will be a great moment for us to touch the post at John O'Groats tomorrow. Heading east, we are hoping the n/west gale keeps up overnight to push us (for a change) all the way tomorrow.
We send our love to everyone. We are both fine, happy and conscious now our great adventure is reaching iyts final stages. Thanks for your thoughts and prayers. K&J
We were headed due north today, so we looked forward to the wind all day for the 75k trip to Bettyhill. We were on the A836, which just north of Lairg turned into a single lane road and remained that way all the way. I must say this was probably our most spectacular day, and that is a big claim. Words can hardly explain the sheer beauty and majesty of the mountains, the glens (valleys), the rivers and the paddocks, farmhouses of stone and miles of stone fencing at times.
Our first goal was the Inn at Crask, reputedly the coldest place in Scotland. I said to Julie it can't be right - it has to be the coldest place on earth! It was cold, and we laboured happily into the wickedly cold wind, because the scenery was so spectacular. We initally followed the edge of Loch Shin for a while, then the Strath Tirry (river). The beautiful mountains loomed all around, especially Ben Klibreck at over 3000ft to the north east of Crask. We had to keep stopping for photos. The first 20k or so from Lairg was a gradual and continual climb in altitude. With the wind also, we were doing between 9-16kph, mostly in our lower gears. It wasn't hard, but the wind was a little wearing at times.
Crask seems to be in the far reaches of a wilderness. We passed straight through, not wanting to stop due to the cold wind. The views though were simply spectacular, so we frequently stopped to take photos as best we could. From Crask we followed along the Strath Bagastie until we came to the little and extremely attractive hamlet of Altnaharra. The previous 15k or so was done at great speed because the gradual incline had turned into a slight descent all the way to Altnaharra. We were both flying in our large chain rings, making excellent time and enjoying the cycling immensely.
Just through Altnaharra we turned east on the B873 that follows the entire length of Loch Naver (part of Strath Naver). Guess what - we had the gale behind us now - so we were both in our big chain rings and powering with the help of the wind. The views were so lovely - across the loch, up the surrounding mountains and into the fields loaded with sheep. We also had loose sheep on the road, so we had to be extremely careful. After about 12k the road turned north, and we were back into the wind, which seemed to get gradually worse the closer we got to Bettyhill.
We still followed the River Naver, all the way to Bettyhill, still 30k to the north. We were riding past special viewing points that drew attention to the terrible things that happened in the early 1800's with the clearance of familes and entire communities from the homes and fields that they worked, so that the owners could turn their land over to sheep grazing. This happened over large parts of Scotland, but Bettyhill was the focus of the scandallous actions that affected so many thousands of Scottish families.
Despite the howling cold wind, we loved the ride into Bettyhill. There were some strong inclines, but also some nice descents also. The views along the river valley were really something special. The closer we got to Bettyhill the more spectacular and rugged the landscape became.
We finally met the A836 coming from Tongue to the west (where Bonnie Prince Charles made his escape after the Battle of Culloden), with the final few miles into Bettyhill just a spectacle of sheer beauty and rugged coastline. The wind just about blew us to a standstill, but we made the final 2k 'moderate climb' up the side of the rugged coastline to the tiny but scattered buildings making up the Bettyhill community.
The beautiful old Hotel is situated right on top of the 'hill' with panoramic views over the rugged coastline of the Torrisdale Bay. Built in 1819 by the House of Sutherland, it was a coaching Inn which was popular with especially fishermen because the Strath Naver is one of Scotland's greatest salmon rivers.
This is rugged Scotland at its remote best. Everywhere we turned we saw a photo in it. We were glad to be very early today - in by 2:30pm - I think our earliest day. The Hotel is perched high, with great views over the northern rugged coast of Scotland out into either the Atlantic or the North Sea, or both. Maybe they join about here.
We too are perched to tomorrow get ourselves to John O'Groats - the furthest most point from Land's End on the southern tip of Cornwall. It is not over for us, but the 'End to End' for us has been a significant part of our Paris-Stirling adventure. It will be a great moment for us to touch the post at John O'Groats tomorrow. Heading east, we are hoping the n/west gale keeps up overnight to push us (for a change) all the way tomorrow.
We send our love to everyone. We are both fine, happy and conscious now our great adventure is reaching iyts final stages. Thanks for your thoughts and prayers. K&J
Evanton to Lairg - 54k - Tues 10 July
It was great to have the time to linger a while at the local Covenant Church cafe. Evanton is a very tiny village - with a shop, a Post Office, the Covenant Church cafe and thats about it. It has a number of houses, most of which seem very old but very quaint. On the hills and mountains up behind are thge deep and dark forests which was part of the movie set for Harry Potter.
We were quite cold in the tent overnight. The camping ground is quite a picture - beautiful lush green grass, and set alongside the River Glass. It wasn't until about 11:30am that after two cappacinos, scones and a good chat, we set off north on the road to Lairg.
This is very remote country now, and we are pushing now into the very north of Scotland. The wind was blowing a gale from the west nwest. We initially headed north east for a few miles, so had the benefit of the strong wind. We were on the B817, but just before Alness, we hit the B9176 that headed due north for Ardgay and Bonar Bridge.
The road gradually climbed, enough for us to be in lower gears, and we struggled slightly now against the wind. Just before the tiny hamlet of Achandunie, the road took a deep 12% dive, down a long way and over a magnificent stone arch bridge crossing the River Alness. As these things go, for every down there is a corresponding up, so from the bridge the road climbed at 12% for a mile or so. The amazing thing is that my younger apprentice took this 12% climb in her stride, and was just on my heels all the way up. I was in my lowest granny and working hard, but she told me at the top that she was still in her middle chain drive, much to my shame. Julie has developed great strength for cycling now. She can stay with me on most roads, and is even doing the climbs now without needing to get off.
This was a most spectacular ride. It is clearly snow country, and we could see the tops of Beinn Tharsuinn at 2200ft and Cnoc an T-Sabhail at 1800ft on both sides as we continued to climb ever so gently into the valleys between. We were headed for the inner reaches of the Dornoch Firth, and the ciewing point that was a favourite of the Queen Mother's.
The countryside was clearly spectacular, but so was the fabulous views to the east down on to the Dornoch Firth and out to the North Sea from our high vantage point. We had the best of mountains and the sea. We eventually came over what eventuated to be Struie Hill, and the viewing point. It was a breathtaking view, as the land fell away and we had sweeping views all the way up the Firth as far as the Bonar Bridge at the far western point of the Firth. We still had 10k to ride to get there.
The wind was blowing a gale from that direction, and such was its strength that as we headed down the long steep decline towards Ardgay, the wind actually slowed the speed of our bikes that we let coast downhill. There was a magnificent gorge with rushing water, over which we had to pass on a massive stone bridge and viaduct. We spent time here admiring the views. The landscape was just spectacular. It was a lovely but windy run all the way to Bonar Bridge, where we had lunch beside the Kyle of Sutherland (River) at the bridge linking Ardgay and Bonar Bridge.
After lunch, we hit the wind again. Still on the A836, we continued north and followed the Kyle of Sutherland as far as Invershin, where we admired the view of Carbisdale Castle, with the Rail viaduct crossing the road above us. Still 20k from LAirg, we had a choice of the 'highway' or the 'biway' - the biway being less steep seemed great to us. It was basically the old road that followed the River Shin, past Shin Falls where we stopped and admired the nice things in the Information centre. The road was a single lane only and well protected both sides with trees. I fell off the bike while looking back and up over my shoulder at the great stone walls of the 'highway' way above us. I went 'splat' in the bank on the side of the road, hurting nothing but my pride. Julie asked if I saw any balloons (a private Bike Barn joke). The answer was no!
Lairg is a remote little village on the very southern tip of Loch Shin. It is a very well kept secret. It is so pretty in the approach from the south with its cute buildings overlooking the waters of Loch Shin. We headed for the 'Dunroamin' Caravan Park. We were blown to bits by the wind, and looked forward to getting warm in the tent. The ride today though was so spectacular, we didn't seem to mind the continual wrestle against the very strong winds. It didn't rain, but was clouded most of the day.
We had a great dinner of pork sausages with a variety of vegetables, and dessert. We don't lack in the food department. Our little Trangia cooker can cook almost anything, except a roast! The one single shower for the entire camping ground was a bit of a struggle. I joined a queue, and then when it was my turn, I wondered why the shower wouldn't work. No one told me I needed to put 20p in a little unlabelled white box on the wall. I eventually worked it out!
This is remate Scotland. It is as cold as 'charity', and we wondered what it would be like in winter! But it is beautiful, and we are so glad we are here. We huddled all night togehter in our sleeping bags, listening to the howl of the wind all night. Its been another spectacular day, for which we daily give thanks to the Lord. Tomorrow - Bettyhill at the very top of Scotlands rugged north coast.
We were quite cold in the tent overnight. The camping ground is quite a picture - beautiful lush green grass, and set alongside the River Glass. It wasn't until about 11:30am that after two cappacinos, scones and a good chat, we set off north on the road to Lairg.
This is very remote country now, and we are pushing now into the very north of Scotland. The wind was blowing a gale from the west nwest. We initially headed north east for a few miles, so had the benefit of the strong wind. We were on the B817, but just before Alness, we hit the B9176 that headed due north for Ardgay and Bonar Bridge.
The road gradually climbed, enough for us to be in lower gears, and we struggled slightly now against the wind. Just before the tiny hamlet of Achandunie, the road took a deep 12% dive, down a long way and over a magnificent stone arch bridge crossing the River Alness. As these things go, for every down there is a corresponding up, so from the bridge the road climbed at 12% for a mile or so. The amazing thing is that my younger apprentice took this 12% climb in her stride, and was just on my heels all the way up. I was in my lowest granny and working hard, but she told me at the top that she was still in her middle chain drive, much to my shame. Julie has developed great strength for cycling now. She can stay with me on most roads, and is even doing the climbs now without needing to get off.
This was a most spectacular ride. It is clearly snow country, and we could see the tops of Beinn Tharsuinn at 2200ft and Cnoc an T-Sabhail at 1800ft on both sides as we continued to climb ever so gently into the valleys between. We were headed for the inner reaches of the Dornoch Firth, and the ciewing point that was a favourite of the Queen Mother's.
The countryside was clearly spectacular, but so was the fabulous views to the east down on to the Dornoch Firth and out to the North Sea from our high vantage point. We had the best of mountains and the sea. We eventually came over what eventuated to be Struie Hill, and the viewing point. It was a breathtaking view, as the land fell away and we had sweeping views all the way up the Firth as far as the Bonar Bridge at the far western point of the Firth. We still had 10k to ride to get there.
The wind was blowing a gale from that direction, and such was its strength that as we headed down the long steep decline towards Ardgay, the wind actually slowed the speed of our bikes that we let coast downhill. There was a magnificent gorge with rushing water, over which we had to pass on a massive stone bridge and viaduct. We spent time here admiring the views. The landscape was just spectacular. It was a lovely but windy run all the way to Bonar Bridge, where we had lunch beside the Kyle of Sutherland (River) at the bridge linking Ardgay and Bonar Bridge.
After lunch, we hit the wind again. Still on the A836, we continued north and followed the Kyle of Sutherland as far as Invershin, where we admired the view of Carbisdale Castle, with the Rail viaduct crossing the road above us. Still 20k from LAirg, we had a choice of the 'highway' or the 'biway' - the biway being less steep seemed great to us. It was basically the old road that followed the River Shin, past Shin Falls where we stopped and admired the nice things in the Information centre. The road was a single lane only and well protected both sides with trees. I fell off the bike while looking back and up over my shoulder at the great stone walls of the 'highway' way above us. I went 'splat' in the bank on the side of the road, hurting nothing but my pride. Julie asked if I saw any balloons (a private Bike Barn joke). The answer was no!
Lairg is a remote little village on the very southern tip of Loch Shin. It is a very well kept secret. It is so pretty in the approach from the south with its cute buildings overlooking the waters of Loch Shin. We headed for the 'Dunroamin' Caravan Park. We were blown to bits by the wind, and looked forward to getting warm in the tent. The ride today though was so spectacular, we didn't seem to mind the continual wrestle against the very strong winds. It didn't rain, but was clouded most of the day.
We had a great dinner of pork sausages with a variety of vegetables, and dessert. We don't lack in the food department. Our little Trangia cooker can cook almost anything, except a roast! The one single shower for the entire camping ground was a bit of a struggle. I joined a queue, and then when it was my turn, I wondered why the shower wouldn't work. No one told me I needed to put 20p in a little unlabelled white box on the wall. I eventually worked it out!
This is remate Scotland. It is as cold as 'charity', and we wondered what it would be like in winter! But it is beautiful, and we are so glad we are here. We huddled all night togehter in our sleeping bags, listening to the howl of the wind all night. Its been another spectacular day, for which we daily give thanks to the Lord. Tomorrow - Bettyhill at the very top of Scotlands rugged north coast.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Croy to Evanton - 47k - Mon 9 July
We took our time leaving Craig and Shona's. Sadly Craig had a camp in (its Teen Ranch) and he was occupied full time with the camp. We had a lovely morning tea with Shona who set a table outside in the garden, with the Aussie flag as the table cloth! It was quite a touch for our little farewell from Kilravock Castle.
It was actually a beautiful day - the sky was blue and the sun was shining. We left with our coats on because it was a bit 'nippy' but that lasted a few k and off they came for the entire ride. We left with dense forest on both sides as we cycled down the long country road from Clephanton (where the Castle is) towards Inverness, past Croy. We stopped at the incredible sight of what turned out to be the Culloden Viaduct - a massive Roman looking construction that was the long and high train bridge across the River Nairn valley. It stood hundreds of feet high, with very long arched stone legs reaching all the way down into the valey - a sight to behold.
Then we came to the famous Battlefield of Culloden, where in 1746 the Jacobite forces loyal to Bonnie Prince Charles of Scotland (who was making claims to the Kingship of both Scotland and England, after his grandfather James - a Catholic King - was was exiled by William of Orange (a Protestant and married to James daughter!), and sought exile in France. Bonnie Prince Charles was referred to as the 'young Pretender', his father - born to James just before William intervened - was always the 'old Pretender - meaning he had aspirations to the throne. 'Jacobite' comes from 'jacubus' - or James - they were loyalists to the Catholioc James (now dead) and massed on the Moor of Culloden against the far superior and vastly biiger numbers of the English (Government forces headed by the nasty Duke of Cumberland.
The result is history. The Jacobites were entirely Scots, and mostly Highlanders and almost entirely Catholic - so this was more a battle with religious overtones than a territorial one. England had Scots fighting for them - from the lowlands but who were Protestant sympathisers. Thats at least my understanding of it. It was a slaughter - the 'Scots' were beaten severely, and the cruelty of the Duke's forces extended beyond the battle to the Highland villages around. It was the final battle on English soil.
The Battle field is a wide open moor - I suppose the sad moment was when Julie found the burial site for the Stewart Clan who fought with Bonnie Prince Charlie - they came and fought as an entire clan, and were probably decimated. There is a single headstone where all the Stewarts both fell, died and are buried on the battlefield. It was a sensitive moment to say the least, but a precious and valuable one nevertheless.
We left on our bikes with the views down across the Moray Firth just opening up and stunning. We could see all of Inverness, the bridge spanning the Firth, with Moray Firth on the east and Beauly Firth to the west. We would be riding the bridge. The sunshine makes such a difference to Scotland. We saw it today in all its colour and beauty. The beauty stretched to the Highlands (we are officially in the Highlands, but still on the coast). We could see the massive peaks of Ben Wyvis (3200ft) and Little Wyvis (2200ft) giving the beautiful backdrop to the vuillage of Evanton, our destination on the northern coast of the Cromarty Firth.
We stopped for groceries in Inverness then attacked the bridge. The sights from the bridge both east and west were stunning. We came off on the Black Isle - a tongue of land that separates the Firth of Moray and Cromarty - it is some 20k wide, and rises for several miles keeping us in low gears but not troubled, then it peaks and opens up the most dramatic scenery of the northern Highlands of Scotland, the villages along the northern side of the Firth, another long bridge to cross, and the road north into some 'tall timber'.
We met two cyclists on the bridge - a father and son doing the 'End to End'. They were amazed at the load on our bikes - they were doing B&B - but they didn't ride any faster than us. As they turned north and with us just behind, a massive truck smashed into the rear of a car that was just passing the son. It was an incredibly near miss, and a very unhappy car driver.
We came into a most beautiful caravan park set beside the River Glass at the tiny village of Evanton. The large and dark forests up the huge hills behind Evanton were the scenes for the movies of Harry Potter - so when you see the sinister forests etc - it was just up behind our camping spot.
It was a great sunny day. We were hot when we arrived, and the tent got hot as we set it up - all a new sensation for us after 5 weeks of camping! However, overnight it rained again, and we had breakfast in the tent with the rain falling outside. I am in the village now, all packed for the big trip to Lairg today, at the local Church Cafe/worship centre. This is a Godly place and we are taking time to enjoy.
We heard the news from home this morning that our wonderful friend of almost our entire life time has passed away a few hours ago. David MacDonald has been a close friend since teenage years, he and I were competative athletes on the Canberra scene all those years ago. He was an extremely gifted soccer player, a gutsy long distance athlete, and a close friend who was a groomsman at our wedding. We lost touch for a lot of years, but since we moved to Sydney, we have renewed our friendship. David learned that he had serious cancer just months ago, and asked if I would conduct his funeral. Well, I am so sorry David. He wanted to hang out until I got home - he was brave and courageous, accepting his condition, and apparently said from his hospital bed this week that he wasn't going yet, until Kelvin gets home. He leaves a lovely partner in Sue, and two of the best of young adult children in Karena and Ben. Our thoughts are with his family. He was 'poppy' to his granchildren - all of whom loved him dearly and will greatly miss him. Before I left I shared with David the verse from Scripture - 'The Lord is MY Shepherd', who knows him by name and into whose hands we entrust him completely.
Until next time - Kelvin and Julie
It was actually a beautiful day - the sky was blue and the sun was shining. We left with our coats on because it was a bit 'nippy' but that lasted a few k and off they came for the entire ride. We left with dense forest on both sides as we cycled down the long country road from Clephanton (where the Castle is) towards Inverness, past Croy. We stopped at the incredible sight of what turned out to be the Culloden Viaduct - a massive Roman looking construction that was the long and high train bridge across the River Nairn valley. It stood hundreds of feet high, with very long arched stone legs reaching all the way down into the valey - a sight to behold.
Then we came to the famous Battlefield of Culloden, where in 1746 the Jacobite forces loyal to Bonnie Prince Charles of Scotland (who was making claims to the Kingship of both Scotland and England, after his grandfather James - a Catholic King - was was exiled by William of Orange (a Protestant and married to James daughter!), and sought exile in France. Bonnie Prince Charles was referred to as the 'young Pretender', his father - born to James just before William intervened - was always the 'old Pretender - meaning he had aspirations to the throne. 'Jacobite' comes from 'jacubus' - or James - they were loyalists to the Catholioc James (now dead) and massed on the Moor of Culloden against the far superior and vastly biiger numbers of the English (Government forces headed by the nasty Duke of Cumberland.
The result is history. The Jacobites were entirely Scots, and mostly Highlanders and almost entirely Catholic - so this was more a battle with religious overtones than a territorial one. England had Scots fighting for them - from the lowlands but who were Protestant sympathisers. Thats at least my understanding of it. It was a slaughter - the 'Scots' were beaten severely, and the cruelty of the Duke's forces extended beyond the battle to the Highland villages around. It was the final battle on English soil.
The Battle field is a wide open moor - I suppose the sad moment was when Julie found the burial site for the Stewart Clan who fought with Bonnie Prince Charlie - they came and fought as an entire clan, and were probably decimated. There is a single headstone where all the Stewarts both fell, died and are buried on the battlefield. It was a sensitive moment to say the least, but a precious and valuable one nevertheless.
We left on our bikes with the views down across the Moray Firth just opening up and stunning. We could see all of Inverness, the bridge spanning the Firth, with Moray Firth on the east and Beauly Firth to the west. We would be riding the bridge. The sunshine makes such a difference to Scotland. We saw it today in all its colour and beauty. The beauty stretched to the Highlands (we are officially in the Highlands, but still on the coast). We could see the massive peaks of Ben Wyvis (3200ft) and Little Wyvis (2200ft) giving the beautiful backdrop to the vuillage of Evanton, our destination on the northern coast of the Cromarty Firth.
We stopped for groceries in Inverness then attacked the bridge. The sights from the bridge both east and west were stunning. We came off on the Black Isle - a tongue of land that separates the Firth of Moray and Cromarty - it is some 20k wide, and rises for several miles keeping us in low gears but not troubled, then it peaks and opens up the most dramatic scenery of the northern Highlands of Scotland, the villages along the northern side of the Firth, another long bridge to cross, and the road north into some 'tall timber'.
We met two cyclists on the bridge - a father and son doing the 'End to End'. They were amazed at the load on our bikes - they were doing B&B - but they didn't ride any faster than us. As they turned north and with us just behind, a massive truck smashed into the rear of a car that was just passing the son. It was an incredibly near miss, and a very unhappy car driver.
We came into a most beautiful caravan park set beside the River Glass at the tiny village of Evanton. The large and dark forests up the huge hills behind Evanton were the scenes for the movies of Harry Potter - so when you see the sinister forests etc - it was just up behind our camping spot.
It was a great sunny day. We were hot when we arrived, and the tent got hot as we set it up - all a new sensation for us after 5 weeks of camping! However, overnight it rained again, and we had breakfast in the tent with the rain falling outside. I am in the village now, all packed for the big trip to Lairg today, at the local Church Cafe/worship centre. This is a Godly place and we are taking time to enjoy.
We heard the news from home this morning that our wonderful friend of almost our entire life time has passed away a few hours ago. David MacDonald has been a close friend since teenage years, he and I were competative athletes on the Canberra scene all those years ago. He was an extremely gifted soccer player, a gutsy long distance athlete, and a close friend who was a groomsman at our wedding. We lost touch for a lot of years, but since we moved to Sydney, we have renewed our friendship. David learned that he had serious cancer just months ago, and asked if I would conduct his funeral. Well, I am so sorry David. He wanted to hang out until I got home - he was brave and courageous, accepting his condition, and apparently said from his hospital bed this week that he wasn't going yet, until Kelvin gets home. He leaves a lovely partner in Sue, and two of the best of young adult children in Karena and Ben. Our thoughts are with his family. He was 'poppy' to his granchildren - all of whom loved him dearly and will greatly miss him. Before I left I shared with David the verse from Scripture - 'The Lord is MY Shepherd', who knows him by name and into whose hands we entrust him completely.
Until next time - Kelvin and Julie
Monday, July 9, 2007
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