Day 6 - Let the wind blow high let the wind blow low
Whilst I was enjoying my fish and chips and the local Pale Ale at Applecross last evening I got chatting with Stewart, a dry stone waller from Derbyshire who’d packed his wife and kids off to Barcelona whilst he did the North Coast 500 on a motorbike. He’d covered most of the ground I’ve been cycling, albeit much more quickly, and, undoubtedly, passed me on the way. A couple of my age sat down at the same table and joined the conversation. He’s a keen fisherman and looking to explore the local lochs. A pleasant hour or so chatting before I went off to book into the Hartfield Bunkhouse, about a mile from the village up a long driveway. Part way there I was somewhat surprised to meet a red deer hind crossing the road.
I’d booked a room to myself, but it was a double bunk nonetheless. Next door was a shared shower and loo: I’m not sure how many were sharing it but I was able to shower when I got in and, this morning, got in without undue delay. There seemed to be quite a number of French people staying.
For an extra £5.50 I got a packed breakfast, a couple of croissants (very good), butter, jam, a small portion of cheese and a carton of orange juice – not all that generous but it gave me a start.
I don’t know why but everywhere I’ve been so far, I’ve heard loads of cuckoos and there were a couple going at it this morning.
The weather forecast was terrible with light rain and strong winds threatened throughout the day. I set off at 0834 because I was due to catch a ferry from the Isle of Skye to the mainland and would rather arrive early and wait, than miss it. It was spitting with rain and the cloud was low on the hills but the wind didn’t seem too bad. It clearly wasn’t going to be a day for photography, indeed the camera has stayed firmly inside my pocket all day.
After cycling the mile or so back to the village I embarked on what was going to be the biggest climb of the day, just over 5 miles from sea level to 2055 feet, over the Applecross Pass. The gradients weren’t steep but the road was narrow with passing places. On the way three red deer crossed the road in front of me. I got about half-way, and the wind was picking up to gale force, to the extent that I had to stop and GOAP for fear that I was going to be blown off the road and down a sleep slope. After a couple of hundred yards, I rounded a corner and was able to get back on and cycle a bit further, but the road snaked again and I was brought to an abrupt halt. Fortunately, at that moment, a camper van stopped alongside me and asked if I needed help, which I very much did. Steve and his wife and dog had been touring the Highlands for the week in their newly acquired campervan. He pulled over and put my bike in the back, and I rode with them to the top of the Pass and back down to sea level before I got out and we went our separate ways. Steve is a tree surgeon from County Durham and does some Enduro mountain biking, and was kindness itself. Heaven knows how I would have got over the pass otherwise.
At the bottom of the pass, I’d covered about 12 miles of the 64 I was due to cycle and used about 50% of the battery which was a bit alarming. The road followed the seashore until, just past Stromeferry the navigators suggested I turn right down what looked like an alarmingly steep hill with goodness knows what to come. I knew that staying on the main road would get me to Kyle of Lochalsh and reckoned I was better to stay on a main road than chance what the side roads would throw at me. In the event it was a mistake. The main road climbed higher and took a more indirect route, as I can see looking at the maps after I finished. Easy to be wise after the event but the extra climbing had taken its toll on the battery. I had to get over the Skye bridge, in good weather an easy feat but with the strong winds I was concerned that I would either be banned from cycling over it or be in danger of being blown off. As it happened it was no problem as the wind was blowing directly in my face and the road was sheltered by the topography. No pictures from my camera but here’s one from t’internet
I could see it from a long way off as I approached Kyle Of Lochalsh but it seemed to take forever before I crossed it, now becoming quite concerned by the amount of battery I had used. The only way to Skye before the bridge were ferries at Kyle of Lochalsh and Armadale and although a bridge had been proposed at the end of the 19th century it was not until 1971 that it was constructed with private finance that was to be re-imbursed by tolls. Over the following twenty years mass protests at the level of the toll led to fines and imprisonment for non-payment until, following the creation of the Scottish Parliament the tolls were heavily subsidised. Finally following intense political pressure, the Scottish Executive agreed to buy out the PFI holders for £27 million and tolls ceased
Once on Skye the terrain was not too lumpy but, with the wind still in my face it was hard work to make progress without the motor. I still had about 24 miles to travel to Armadale where I was booked onto the Calmac ferry to Mallaig leaving at 1645. At least time was not a concern as I had 3.5 hours to make the connection, but I finally arrived at the port with a virtually empty battery. But I made it and arrived in Mallaig at about 1715 and booked into the Marine Hotel, conveniently located in the town centre.
Not a day I shall remember fondly and it looks as though there’s more bad weather to come!
