Outer Hebrides
Posted: Tue May 13, 2014 3:04 pm
Always been on my 'bucket list' so went up over the Bank Holiday, the plan being to get to the top of Scotland without using motorways unless unavoidable. First stop was Crossgates café after going up via Llandovery and Newbridge on Wye.
From Llandrindod Wells to Shrewesbury via Knighton-Clun and Bishop's Castle.
Next stop was Lynn Raven's Café on the A49 north of Shrewesbury, a well-known biker's stop; being early in the morning it was quite quiet, only about 5 bikes outside and 3 inside!
Round the back of Oulton Park and then a short blast up the M6 to get around Manchester before cutting across the Peak District for a Bakewell Tart in ummm...Bakewell, did the famous 'Cat and Fiddle' road and soon found myself in the Yorkshire Dales which was simply stunning; bright sunshine and the limestone crags glistening in the sunshine, lovely stone walls on the unclassified roads I took and not many cars to be seen..heaven!
My first night's campsite was in a wooded valley next to a river in Keld, got the petrol cooker out,quick-cook Uncle Bens rice with Chilli , cup of tea and in bed by nine: heaven!
Up early, got the kettle on and was away very quickly. I wanted to check out the Buttertubs Pass , (venue for this year's Tour de France stage), the farmers are already advertising their fields for parking and camping; it is going to be a massive event. I soon crossed the mountains into Cumbria and went up through the Lake District doing some more passes on my way to the Scottish border near Carlisle and then took the 'C' roads up to Edinburgh for a family 'do' before getting back on the bike and up to Glencoe via Stirling.
First stop of the day was the famous 'Green Welly ' café at Tyndrum for breakfast, although it was still early, there were already about 20 or so bikes in the motorcycle car park; this café being at the junction of the Oban road (for the ferries) and the Glencoe road (for the Highlands).
As I was going towards Glencoe I took a detour down to Glen Etive to see where 'Skyfall' was filmed and then continued up to Fort William. The Scottish SDT was still on so drove up to watch the goings on in the service village outside the town, very impressive seeing the media circus there, the supply vehicles, tents and garages and the army refuelling army as dozens of Ossas, Bultacos, Gas Gas etc were flying around with some very tired-looking riders on board.
I continued up to another favourite place of mine, the Commando memorial at Spean Bridge, since I was last there a memorial garden has been created and seeing lots of family tributes and photos in memory of loved ones killed in Afghanistan and Iraq was quite moving indeed.
After this sobering and reflective stop, I headed up along empty roads towards Applecross, where I did the obligatory "Pass of the Cattle " before dropping down to Applecross village. The Applecross Inn had about a dozen GS's parked outside and a few more outside the holiday lettings on the water's edge, being an antisocial grumpy old git I drove around the Applecross Peninsular until I found a nice camp beside a small loch overlooking the sea which suited me perfectly. The next morning after one of Tescos 'All Day Breakfast' in a tin I drove along some brilliant roads along Glen Torridon/Beinne Eighe which was a lovely part of the Highlands, in fact there wasn't anywhere I didn't like!
In Ullapool that afternoon, where I had freshly cooked haddock and chips on the quayside whilst I waited for the ferry to arrive . (This time of year there is no need to pre-book anything which is great as it allows for greater freedom and spontaneity)
My ferry arrived in Stornaway around nine so priority was to find somewhere to camp and as wild camping is allowed in Scotland (unlike the rest of the UK) I pitched my tent on the beach and was soon asleep to the sound of the waves. Being so far North, it doesn't get dark until late and is quite light fairly early so that set the pattern for the trip to come.
The Hebrides are very compact and can easily be covered in a few days even allowing for ferries between the islands so I headed up to the very top of the Isle of Lewis and then the only way is South!
The roads were absolutely deserted, single track roads are 'A' Roads up here and I almost had the place to myself as I explored Harris's only two roads!
Went out to see the Standing Stones of Callanish which were as impressive as Stonehenge minus the crowds and then found a beach to camp beside, lit a fire with driftwood and took in the empty silence and vast skies, nothing between me and America!
Deciding where to camp was easy, I just went on 'Britain's Best Beaches' and similar sites and chose from there; similarly, the route I took was chosen from 'Best Biking Roads', easy when the work has been done for you!
Having ridden around Lewis for a day I headed to my next island, the Isle of Harris-which isn't an island at all but part of the same landmass as Harris , no I couldn't work that one out either and it wasn't as if I had crossed a bridge even, not so much as a small stream but there you go!
Harris was wilder than Lewis, less peat bog and more mountainous with some lovely twisties and once again very few cars.It was nice to hear Gallic being spoken by the locals (not Gaelic as a local corrected me when I mentioned that, Gaelic is spoken in Ireland of course-tut tut as if I didn't know that).
I had stopped at the many War Memorial on Lewis and Harris as I find them fascinating and this is where I learnt the tragic story of HMS Iolaire. Imagine going through the carnage of the Western Front: surviving the Somme and Passchendaele only to die within sight of your croft, this is what happened on New Year's Day 1919 when the ship sunk off Stornoway whilst bringing the boys back home. Over 200 souls were lost. One crofter lost his three sons in this disaster, unimaginable grief and anguish.
At my next beach there were toilets , a utility room and a shower. There was a notice saying "please leave the facilities as you'd like to find them" and another one saying "If you'd like to make a voluntarily contribution for camping here please knock the door of the white cottage up the road and give Donald the crofter £2" Why isn't Wales like this?
My final night on Harris was spent up at Hushenish Beach, voted Britain's most beautiful beach according to the Guardian readers, yes I'd agree with them on that one!
The next day saw me take a ferry ride across to North Uist as I planned to ride down to South Uist via Benbecula as I was curious to see Benbecula airport (where planes land on the beach apparently). As an Atlantic weather system came in that evening I decided to spend the night in a hostel, £17 for a room-a fortune in my book but as the rain was hitting the windows that night it was money well spent in my opinion (must be getting soft in my old age)
The next morning saw me on the ferry to Oban back on the mainland-the longest ferry crossing so far at 5 hours which was ok as the weather was fine again and the islands of Skye, Eigg, Muck, Rum, Canna, Coll and Mull were passed by the ferry, each island somehow different than the others but how or why I can't put my finger on.
At Oban I had two choices, either go back to Tyndrum and the Green Welly and then the A82 south past Loch Lomond or take the A816 directly south from Oban. I preferred the latter as I've driven the A82 a few times and wanted to try something new and more importantly I didn't really fancy driving through or around Glasgow, so I was soon heading for the Mull of Kintyre (desperately trying and failing not to sing That Song).
On the way back up the Mull of Kintyre I realised that I could cross back to the mainland via the isle of Arran and as I had never been there before, thought why not? A 30 min ferry and I was on Arran, albeit too briefly as it was a wonderful surprise, great scenery, lovely winding roads, no traffic and all within sight of the mainland!
My final ferry crossing (thank you Caledonian MacBrayne for your services) took me an hour. On the boat I met the only other biker I shared any ferry crossing with, a wonderful chap by the name of Ian Leitch on his genuine old BSA, we shared a natter and the kindly gentleman bought me a cup of tea:Thank You Kind Sir you are a scholar and a gentleman. He is something to do with the AJS/Matchless Owners Club Scotland .Ian was off into the Highlands on his old BSA with no more than a small rucksack on his back..
I spent my last night in Scotland in a forest in Galloway and it was lovely lying in my warm and cozy sleeping bag listening to the birds' evening chorus, which made me really appreciate that the love of nature and the outdoors and 'adventure biking' go together so well.
But once the wretched owl above my head started his too wit too hooing all night I could easily have blasted the thing out of his perch with a 12 bore!
As the weather was quite stormy, blowing a gale and pouring down the next morning I abandoned my plan to camp one final night in the Peak District and got on the M6 at Gretna. The journey home was predictably monotonous apart from around Shap/Tebay where the F800 was being blown all over the place on the motorway. Is it me that finds that the slab -sided panniers and tall upright seating position make my bike vulnerable to buffeting or am I just a scardey cat I wonder?
Other people on VFR type bikes were flying past me whereas I found 60 scary enough in the wind.
By Worcester I had had enough of the motorway and roadworks so came off and took the A44 westwards towards Rhayader. One final meal in Crossgates, where there were loads of hardy bikers out riding despite the awful weather and I was soon back home: almost 2000 miles, no bad experiences, no mechanical issues and a small , modest adventure of my own.
photos to follow............................
From Llandrindod Wells to Shrewesbury via Knighton-Clun and Bishop's Castle.
Next stop was Lynn Raven's Café on the A49 north of Shrewesbury, a well-known biker's stop; being early in the morning it was quite quiet, only about 5 bikes outside and 3 inside!
Round the back of Oulton Park and then a short blast up the M6 to get around Manchester before cutting across the Peak District for a Bakewell Tart in ummm...Bakewell, did the famous 'Cat and Fiddle' road and soon found myself in the Yorkshire Dales which was simply stunning; bright sunshine and the limestone crags glistening in the sunshine, lovely stone walls on the unclassified roads I took and not many cars to be seen..heaven!
My first night's campsite was in a wooded valley next to a river in Keld, got the petrol cooker out,quick-cook Uncle Bens rice with Chilli , cup of tea and in bed by nine: heaven!
Up early, got the kettle on and was away very quickly. I wanted to check out the Buttertubs Pass , (venue for this year's Tour de France stage), the farmers are already advertising their fields for parking and camping; it is going to be a massive event. I soon crossed the mountains into Cumbria and went up through the Lake District doing some more passes on my way to the Scottish border near Carlisle and then took the 'C' roads up to Edinburgh for a family 'do' before getting back on the bike and up to Glencoe via Stirling.
First stop of the day was the famous 'Green Welly ' café at Tyndrum for breakfast, although it was still early, there were already about 20 or so bikes in the motorcycle car park; this café being at the junction of the Oban road (for the ferries) and the Glencoe road (for the Highlands).
As I was going towards Glencoe I took a detour down to Glen Etive to see where 'Skyfall' was filmed and then continued up to Fort William. The Scottish SDT was still on so drove up to watch the goings on in the service village outside the town, very impressive seeing the media circus there, the supply vehicles, tents and garages and the army refuelling army as dozens of Ossas, Bultacos, Gas Gas etc were flying around with some very tired-looking riders on board.
I continued up to another favourite place of mine, the Commando memorial at Spean Bridge, since I was last there a memorial garden has been created and seeing lots of family tributes and photos in memory of loved ones killed in Afghanistan and Iraq was quite moving indeed.
After this sobering and reflective stop, I headed up along empty roads towards Applecross, where I did the obligatory "Pass of the Cattle " before dropping down to Applecross village. The Applecross Inn had about a dozen GS's parked outside and a few more outside the holiday lettings on the water's edge, being an antisocial grumpy old git I drove around the Applecross Peninsular until I found a nice camp beside a small loch overlooking the sea which suited me perfectly. The next morning after one of Tescos 'All Day Breakfast' in a tin I drove along some brilliant roads along Glen Torridon/Beinne Eighe which was a lovely part of the Highlands, in fact there wasn't anywhere I didn't like!
In Ullapool that afternoon, where I had freshly cooked haddock and chips on the quayside whilst I waited for the ferry to arrive . (This time of year there is no need to pre-book anything which is great as it allows for greater freedom and spontaneity)
My ferry arrived in Stornaway around nine so priority was to find somewhere to camp and as wild camping is allowed in Scotland (unlike the rest of the UK) I pitched my tent on the beach and was soon asleep to the sound of the waves. Being so far North, it doesn't get dark until late and is quite light fairly early so that set the pattern for the trip to come.
The Hebrides are very compact and can easily be covered in a few days even allowing for ferries between the islands so I headed up to the very top of the Isle of Lewis and then the only way is South!
The roads were absolutely deserted, single track roads are 'A' Roads up here and I almost had the place to myself as I explored Harris's only two roads!
Went out to see the Standing Stones of Callanish which were as impressive as Stonehenge minus the crowds and then found a beach to camp beside, lit a fire with driftwood and took in the empty silence and vast skies, nothing between me and America!
Deciding where to camp was easy, I just went on 'Britain's Best Beaches' and similar sites and chose from there; similarly, the route I took was chosen from 'Best Biking Roads', easy when the work has been done for you!
Having ridden around Lewis for a day I headed to my next island, the Isle of Harris-which isn't an island at all but part of the same landmass as Harris , no I couldn't work that one out either and it wasn't as if I had crossed a bridge even, not so much as a small stream but there you go!
Harris was wilder than Lewis, less peat bog and more mountainous with some lovely twisties and once again very few cars.It was nice to hear Gallic being spoken by the locals (not Gaelic as a local corrected me when I mentioned that, Gaelic is spoken in Ireland of course-tut tut as if I didn't know that).
I had stopped at the many War Memorial on Lewis and Harris as I find them fascinating and this is where I learnt the tragic story of HMS Iolaire. Imagine going through the carnage of the Western Front: surviving the Somme and Passchendaele only to die within sight of your croft, this is what happened on New Year's Day 1919 when the ship sunk off Stornoway whilst bringing the boys back home. Over 200 souls were lost. One crofter lost his three sons in this disaster, unimaginable grief and anguish.
At my next beach there were toilets , a utility room and a shower. There was a notice saying "please leave the facilities as you'd like to find them" and another one saying "If you'd like to make a voluntarily contribution for camping here please knock the door of the white cottage up the road and give Donald the crofter £2" Why isn't Wales like this?
My final night on Harris was spent up at Hushenish Beach, voted Britain's most beautiful beach according to the Guardian readers, yes I'd agree with them on that one!
The next day saw me take a ferry ride across to North Uist as I planned to ride down to South Uist via Benbecula as I was curious to see Benbecula airport (where planes land on the beach apparently). As an Atlantic weather system came in that evening I decided to spend the night in a hostel, £17 for a room-a fortune in my book but as the rain was hitting the windows that night it was money well spent in my opinion (must be getting soft in my old age)
The next morning saw me on the ferry to Oban back on the mainland-the longest ferry crossing so far at 5 hours which was ok as the weather was fine again and the islands of Skye, Eigg, Muck, Rum, Canna, Coll and Mull were passed by the ferry, each island somehow different than the others but how or why I can't put my finger on.
At Oban I had two choices, either go back to Tyndrum and the Green Welly and then the A82 south past Loch Lomond or take the A816 directly south from Oban. I preferred the latter as I've driven the A82 a few times and wanted to try something new and more importantly I didn't really fancy driving through or around Glasgow, so I was soon heading for the Mull of Kintyre (desperately trying and failing not to sing That Song).
On the way back up the Mull of Kintyre I realised that I could cross back to the mainland via the isle of Arran and as I had never been there before, thought why not? A 30 min ferry and I was on Arran, albeit too briefly as it was a wonderful surprise, great scenery, lovely winding roads, no traffic and all within sight of the mainland!
My final ferry crossing (thank you Caledonian MacBrayne for your services) took me an hour. On the boat I met the only other biker I shared any ferry crossing with, a wonderful chap by the name of Ian Leitch on his genuine old BSA, we shared a natter and the kindly gentleman bought me a cup of tea:Thank You Kind Sir you are a scholar and a gentleman. He is something to do with the AJS/Matchless Owners Club Scotland .Ian was off into the Highlands on his old BSA with no more than a small rucksack on his back..
I spent my last night in Scotland in a forest in Galloway and it was lovely lying in my warm and cozy sleeping bag listening to the birds' evening chorus, which made me really appreciate that the love of nature and the outdoors and 'adventure biking' go together so well.
But once the wretched owl above my head started his too wit too hooing all night I could easily have blasted the thing out of his perch with a 12 bore!
As the weather was quite stormy, blowing a gale and pouring down the next morning I abandoned my plan to camp one final night in the Peak District and got on the M6 at Gretna. The journey home was predictably monotonous apart from around Shap/Tebay where the F800 was being blown all over the place on the motorway. Is it me that finds that the slab -sided panniers and tall upright seating position make my bike vulnerable to buffeting or am I just a scardey cat I wonder?
Other people on VFR type bikes were flying past me whereas I found 60 scary enough in the wind.
By Worcester I had had enough of the motorway and roadworks so came off and took the A44 westwards towards Rhayader. One final meal in Crossgates, where there were loads of hardy bikers out riding despite the awful weather and I was soon back home: almost 2000 miles, no bad experiences, no mechanical issues and a small , modest adventure of my own.
photos to follow............................