I have arrived to the northern town of Thurso to cycle along the coast and through the Western Highlands back to Edinburgh. Leaving the train I have a flat and push my bike through the driving rain to look for a campsite just out of town.
The wind is really strong and I struggle to put up my tent on the wet ground while I can hear the waves trashing. It never stops raining this night and the winds rattles my little shelter with such force I can hardly sleep. The next morning I break down my camp in driving rain, the tent gets stashed soaked as it is. In town center I find a little bike shop, buy a new chamber for my front wheel and repair my flat. Meanwhile my bikes rear axle gets some new, rain proof grease, I have a pot of tea in the nearby coffe-shop. It is still raining.
The wind is really strong and I struggle to put up my tent on the wet ground while I can hear the waves trashing. It never stops raining this night and the winds rattles my little shelter with such force I can hardly sleep. The next morning I break down my camp in driving rain, the tent gets stashed soaked as it is. In town center I find a little bike shop, buy a new chamber for my front wheel and repair my flat. Meanwhile my bikes rear axle gets some new, rain proof grease, I have a pot of tea in the nearby coffe-shop. It is still raining.
At midday, all my chores in Thurso are done and I start cycling along the coast towards Tongue. The rain is pelting down with force and a gail is blowing. I have to struggle to keep me on my bike when the wind comes sideways. I have some near misses with car coming my way. I am scared and very impressed by the conditions up here in the North.
In three hours I manage to cycle 15 kms. At the little village of Reay I call it a day and take refuge in a cosy Bed & Breakfast. The owners Jene and Derek are really lovely people, we have a long conversation and Derek offers to take me along the coast in his car and shows me the local church just opposite their house where he preaches as a lay preacher from time to time.
The next morning it is still raining but fortunately the wind has ceased and after a full scottish breakfast including a fantastic black pudding I am off towards Tongue.
The route is a constant up and down and often I can see dramatic cliffs, amazing beaches and tiny lighthouses towering on some rocks over the trashing waves, far off to the north, the Orkney Islands are visible as a distant, light blue shadow. Next stop - Shetland Islands and than the Arctic.
Near Tongue I stop to greet an old man next to a small camper van. John Corbett is photographer in his late sixties and he spends his time roaming Scotland to take fotos of the wildlife and scenery. In his youth he did a lot of bicycle touring and meanwhile I am getting colder and colder standing around in my light cycling clothes, he tells me all about his travels around Norway and his solo bicycle tour around Iceland in 1962 (!!).
In three hours I manage to cycle 15 kms. At the little village of Reay I call it a day and take refuge in a cosy Bed & Breakfast. The owners Jene and Derek are really lovely people, we have a long conversation and Derek offers to take me along the coast in his car and shows me the local church just opposite their house where he preaches as a lay preacher from time to time.
The next morning it is still raining but fortunately the wind has ceased and after a full scottish breakfast including a fantastic black pudding I am off towards Tongue.
The route is a constant up and down and often I can see dramatic cliffs, amazing beaches and tiny lighthouses towering on some rocks over the trashing waves, far off to the north, the Orkney Islands are visible as a distant, light blue shadow. Next stop - Shetland Islands and than the Arctic.
Near Tongue I stop to greet an old man next to a small camper van. John Corbett is photographer in his late sixties and he spends his time roaming Scotland to take fotos of the wildlife and scenery. In his youth he did a lot of bicycle touring and meanwhile I am getting colder and colder standing around in my light cycling clothes, he tells me all about his travels around Norway and his solo bicycle tour around Iceland in 1962 (!!).
He knows the area around Tongue very well and the youth hostel being closed for winter, along with one of his postcards he gives me some recomendations where to put up my wee tent.
After a quite night in an abandoned campsite near the Kyle of Tongue I have spectacular views on the surrounding mountains and the seaside. I find Johns camper van parked alongside the route and we have a little chat. The guy really does like to talk.
I tackle the road climbing up to 212 meters above sea level and looking to my left I find Ben Hope, the northernmost Munro.
Munros are the scottish mountains higher than 3.000 feet (approx 900 meters), there are about 250 of them all around Scotland and lately it became a popular past-time for hillwalkers to go "Munro-bagging". Those who climb all the summits are called 'compleaters'.
Dropping down towards the steel blue waters of Loch Hope I scare a troop of pheasants and grouses that had walk along the route moments before. The route starts to climb again and before long I can see the dramatic Loch Eriboll before me. It is 21 miles around the Loch and to the sleepy little town of Durness. Once more I find the Youth Hostel closed and decide to stay in a private hostel (14 pounds/night) and get my dinner in the local SPAR shop.
Just opposite Durness lies the secluded Cap Wrath, once you cross the straight by boat, it's a 15kms walk up to the lighthouse. Unfortunately the ferry stopped operating for this season and there area is shut down because the british Ministry of Defence is so kind to use it as bombing site and military training field during autumn and spring.
As a testimony I see a crashed military truck beside the road, it crashed into a small bridge leading towards the Cape and has not been removed yet, the bridge was closed for heavy traffic during days and delivery vans had to take a 100 miles detour to reach Durness.
Did I mention that it was raining again ? AND there was a hefty headwind on top of it. Just in case I felt to good this morning. In fact it rains so much that a guy in a delivery van stops to offer me a lift. I decline and he shakes his head as to say "these crazy tourists enjoy cycling in this weather".
Once I reach Laxford Bridge I head inland and for the first time in three days enjoy wind that pushes me along Loch Stack and Loch More (both spetacular) towards Lairg. As it is getting dark I camp a couple of miles outside town and find the campsites used books section very helpfull indeed. I leave one of my books behind and choose to "borrow" Reinhold Messners "Solo Nanga Parbat", a gripping account of his solo ascent that hooks me instantly.
From Lairg its all the way down hill to Rogart Station where a specially nice Hostel set up in old train sleeper car awaits me. Ploughing through a pile of good books I stay two nights, in company of a couple from Northern Ireland and a funny guy from Yorkshire whos accent I can hardly understand.
After a quite night in an abandoned campsite near the Kyle of Tongue I have spectacular views on the surrounding mountains and the seaside. I find Johns camper van parked alongside the route and we have a little chat. The guy really does like to talk.
I tackle the road climbing up to 212 meters above sea level and looking to my left I find Ben Hope, the northernmost Munro.
Munros are the scottish mountains higher than 3.000 feet (approx 900 meters), there are about 250 of them all around Scotland and lately it became a popular past-time for hillwalkers to go "Munro-bagging". Those who climb all the summits are called 'compleaters'.
Dropping down towards the steel blue waters of Loch Hope I scare a troop of pheasants and grouses that had walk along the route moments before. The route starts to climb again and before long I can see the dramatic Loch Eriboll before me. It is 21 miles around the Loch and to the sleepy little town of Durness. Once more I find the Youth Hostel closed and decide to stay in a private hostel (14 pounds/night) and get my dinner in the local SPAR shop.
Just opposite Durness lies the secluded Cap Wrath, once you cross the straight by boat, it's a 15kms walk up to the lighthouse. Unfortunately the ferry stopped operating for this season and there area is shut down because the british Ministry of Defence is so kind to use it as bombing site and military training field during autumn and spring.
As a testimony I see a crashed military truck beside the road, it crashed into a small bridge leading towards the Cape and has not been removed yet, the bridge was closed for heavy traffic during days and delivery vans had to take a 100 miles detour to reach Durness.
Did I mention that it was raining again ? AND there was a hefty headwind on top of it. Just in case I felt to good this morning. In fact it rains so much that a guy in a delivery van stops to offer me a lift. I decline and he shakes his head as to say "these crazy tourists enjoy cycling in this weather".
Once I reach Laxford Bridge I head inland and for the first time in three days enjoy wind that pushes me along Loch Stack and Loch More (both spetacular) towards Lairg. As it is getting dark I camp a couple of miles outside town and find the campsites used books section very helpfull indeed. I leave one of my books behind and choose to "borrow" Reinhold Messners "Solo Nanga Parbat", a gripping account of his solo ascent that hooks me instantly.
From Lairg its all the way down hill to Rogart Station where a specially nice Hostel set up in old train sleeper car awaits me. Ploughing through a pile of good books I stay two nights, in company of a couple from Northern Ireland and a funny guy from Yorkshire whos accent I can hardly understand.
Entering the county of Ross-shire I meet a girl riding to opposite direction towards John O Groats on a fundraising "End-to-End" bicycle ride. We exchange some pleasantries and stare at each others bikes and split up before getting miserable from standing in the cold.
After a good days cycle I reach Dingwall and decide to take to train into Inverness, stay a night and fetch another train that takes me to Aviemore a busy little town at the foot of the Cairngorms Mountains National Parc.
I enjoy a day of off-road riding and border the Cairngorms on the western edge, through the Glenlivet estate, some nice up- and downhill riding along lonesome single-track roads brings me to Braermar, just 10 miles from Balmoral Castle, scottish residence of the royal family.
After two nights in the Youth Hostel in Braemar I cycle towards beautiful Glenshee valley that takes me towards Perth and to the train headed for Edinburgh, Haymarket station.
Today I packed my bags and made last minute preparations for the scandinavian leg of my journey, saturday morning Ryanair Flight nr. FR6671 will take me to Haugesund in Norway.
After a good days cycle I reach Dingwall and decide to take to train into Inverness, stay a night and fetch another train that takes me to Aviemore a busy little town at the foot of the Cairngorms Mountains National Parc.
I enjoy a day of off-road riding and border the Cairngorms on the western edge, through the Glenlivet estate, some nice up- and downhill riding along lonesome single-track roads brings me to Braermar, just 10 miles from Balmoral Castle, scottish residence of the royal family.
After two nights in the Youth Hostel in Braemar I cycle towards beautiful Glenshee valley that takes me towards Perth and to the train headed for Edinburgh, Haymarket station.
Today I packed my bags and made last minute preparations for the scandinavian leg of my journey, saturday morning Ryanair Flight nr. FR6671 will take me to Haugesund in Norway.
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