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pa_broon74
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 Posted: 13:04 - 19 Aug 2008  Post subject: Tour Mk11 |
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Hey folks.
I posted this originally in the Scotland Section, since its limited and I'm a karma whore I thought I'd copy it to here. You may or may not find it instructive/useful/amusing. 
I'll put up the pics later on, I'm at work and they're at home.
Cheers. 
| Quote: |
Folks.
Well, did the tour, another thing ticked of my virtual list of things to do before I'm 40. (I had a list of things to do before I was 30, I don't recall what was on that list or if I did any of them...)
Day 1.
Edinburgh to John O' Groats.
We were going to follow the coast but decided we could probably live without seeing such cultural beauties as Arbroath and Dundee, we shot up to Perth then hopped onto the A93 to Blair Gowrie stopping (amongst other places) at the highest beech hedge in Europe, 100ft at one end and 545ft along to the other where its 80ft high. If memory serves, its called the Meikleour hedge and was planted in memory of some rich guy's bint.
Headed through Glen Shee which was nice stopping for some photos (I would post them but I can't be arsed) and seriously, would you want to see them anyway? Up on to Braemar where we had a wee bike related panic, £10 for a litre of bike oil and we where off again. Turned left near Crathie up to Tomintoul, (bought a sticker and a double caramel magnum here,) then on to Inverness.
Past Inverness we picked up the A9 which is great North of the Ness, long straights with sweeping bends. We had a wee panic when we realised we had no beer, stopped at a wee village who's name escapes me, (might've been Golspie) to remedy the booze drought.
We stopped at Wick for fuel and decided since we were camping the first night, we'd better get some shit together. Oh how we rode around cursing Wick for its lack of shops... Only to ride out the other side to find the biggest Tesco's complete with 24hr filling station. Its around 10pm by this stage, we gorge ourselves on shite we just don't need. Disposable BBQ, breakfast packs, I buy some wine (I figured in terms of space, wine was the most efficient beveridge.) My pal bought a cari-mat in a fletching shade of turquoise and I decide I really needed an electronic compass wrist watch.
Onwards... We arrive at J o' G's, its beginning to spit and frankly, its a fucking dump. The sign isn't even up, its just an empty pole over-looked by a derelict hotel, folk said the place was rubbish, they're not wrong.
Here comes the fun bit, if I am only allowed to impart one piece of advice about embarking upon such a trip it is this: Book ahead! We planned on just finding a leafy lane or perhaps a midnight-sun dappled glade to pitch our tent, enjoy a (tesco's plastic) cup of wine... No fucking chance, we rode around for hours, up muddy lanes (no comment) down sheep infested tracks.
Eventually we found a track that didn't lead to some wasp chewing farmer's mansion. Down down it went, round a sharp hairpin then on to a slipway... We'd found our camp site and it had a sea view! A grassy spot in front of a couple of locked Lighthouse supply buildings. It was after midnight but still bright enough to see a rocky island rising up from a glass-calm sea, no danger of the tide washing us out of our tent either.
As we began to unload (if I am only allowed to impart two pieces of advice it would be book ahead and get locking panniers,) we hear a very strange noise from the sea, I'm not joking! It was like a man being throttled, we looked at each other with a 'did you hear that?' question in our eyes... We worked on but there it was again, a honking bark then a gurgling...
Seals! Seals oh praise god (I don't even believe in god,) we were just glad it wasn't a monster... Shoosh right! Its dark, we were out of your comfort zones, the imagination wanders ok?
At that point its not spitting, the weather had gone into a full gob-fest; its chucking it down. We crawl in to the tent and have quite possibly the worst night in either of our memories. Between the fucking seals honking and barking and the machine gun rattle of rain on cheap nylon, it was impossible to get to sleep and I can say with feeling; we didn't!
I managed to dose off and on but come 6:40am it was so light it was impossible to get back to sleep, we both got up... When I say got up, we crawled, fell and generally rolled out of the tent. (I think hike tents are like swimming pools, there's no dignified way to get out of them.)
Anyway, the scene that met us was just perfect, wouldn't have looked out of place on a post card. A broad bay lined by cliffs with the rocky island rising out of the smooth waters. The slip way's end complete with sun-bathing seals... It was hard to hate the noisy bastards given the scene before us... Clear blue skies, not a puff of wind, completely sheltered. As we made breakfast the seals came closer in the water, their heads pocking out of the water in frank and open curiosity, checking the map, we where also a mere 4 miles short of Dunnit Head, the most Northerly point on the mainland.
I've never seen 6:40am (unless I hadn't gone to bed in the first place.) That morning scene set the tone perfectly, it was worth getting up for. I just wish I could've gone back to bed...
As we ate our black pudding and bacon rolls we threw rocks at the fucking seals... I'm joking, we didn't...
That was a long one (actress - bishop) so I'll stop, if you don't want to read more, just tell me to fuck up and I will. 
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pa_broon74
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pa_broon74
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Posted: 13:25 - 19 Aug 2008  Post subject: |
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Day 2
Dunnit Head to Ullapool.
Getting up at the crack of sparrow-fart on the second day allowed us to make some serious headway across the top of the country, the scenery also improved greatly. Our route would take us along the A836 then onto the A838 at Tongue.
We stopped for fuel in Thurso, it can't of been an exciting place, as I sit here typing, I have no memory of it. Having said that, it might be a cultural and architectural centre on a par with Venice, Paris or ummm, Liverpool and I just can't remember because my memory is so crap. Our next stop was Dounreay, we took a couple of photos of the well known dome and made to ride off, ironically, given the proximity of so much energy, my battery had decided to lose all of its power meaning I had to get a wee push start. That was the only time the bike let me down and it wasn't really serious.
After having camped the previous night and not having had the benefit of a shower, we were both pretty grubby, we had thought about an early morning swim but it was quickly followed by a second thought; 'fuck that for a laugh!'
I'd read that there was a municipal swimming pool in a wee place called Bettyhill, we stopped at the village post office to ask for directions, I also had a chocolate minimilk (haven't had one in years, it was gash...)
The swimming pool was attached to the local primary school which fortunately was closed, the pool on the other hand was open. Bugger lugs, my wing man (he'll hate me for saying that) didn't have any speedo's, no worries though, they had a box of swimming garments which looked suspiciously like left-behinds... We only wanted a shower, but they were poolside. I suppose he could have stood bare arsed and given the locals an eyeful, fortunately it wasn't necessary.
Only other thing of note here were the female twins that sat staring at us as we swam/wallowed. They had awful squint eyes and really bad teeth, dead skinny and pale. They looked to be about 15 years old although it was hard to tell. It was also hard to make out what they were saying as someone was playing a banjo, but it sounded as if they wanted us to sleep with them, they also said something about being sick of their cousins...
Ok, I made that bit up. If you're up that way, have camped out with some seals and you need a wash, Bettyhill swimming pool does the job.
The road from Tongue to Durness goes on for ever and ever and ever and ever and ever, but is mitigated by some great views over Loch Eribol. Durness itself kinda sneaks up on you, one minute you're in the middle of no where, the next you're surrounded by coach parties of OAP's and Asian tourists. Perhaps its the desolation and seemingly endless road in, then coming face to face with what seems like a throng of humanity... There's a really nice beach by Rispond just before Durness, we stopped and took photos but didn't go down, the general vibe and atmosphere was being ruined by Mr and Mrs Fat Bastard and their kids from Manchester, I'm not joking, the place is perfectly unspoiled but this shower of cunts are flinging crisp packets out the window of their scummed up motor...
I'm running on a little here so I'll finish. From Durness we started South down the West coast. Many people are of the impression that to get truly breath taking views, you need to go abroad. This couldn't be further from the truth, the views available on the North West coast are stunning, after Durness you have utter desolation, great rolling waves of frozen rock as far as the eye can see, once you clear the Kyle of Durness, its just breath takingly big, rugged and empty.
We picked up the A894 past Scourie, Quinag is stunning then onwards you have Ben More Assynt on the left and Suilven & Canisp on the right, not particularly high but they're really pointy so rob you of your breath.
We stopped again at Elphin where apparently the grass is greener due to a limestone rock unique to the area... (I read that on a sign post thingy, I didn't just know it, I'm not that sad.) We were now on the A835 on the home straight to Ullapool. Again the scenery here is truly world class, looking back toward Suilven from just past Elphin proves that Scotland is really quite beautiful. (When its not pissing down with rain...)
So, Ullapool. Nice wee place with great skimming stones on the beach. Our B&B had a bar (fuck camping for a second night) which we used extensively, it was called The Arch Inn and I recommend it highly, although their breakfast staff need to cheer up a wee bit and Sheridan (bugger lugs' real name) is still waiting for his tomato sauce...
That was pretty much the second day, the rain stayed off which was good. I'll upload some photos, when I do, if you recognise the places as not being near that part of our route, it's because I've got about 150 pics and they're a wee bit mixed up.
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The mix up of photos was with the Off license in 'Golspie.' It wasn't, it was in Alness.Also the stretch of road 'North of Inverness.' It was between Cock bridge and Tomintoul... We had no Claudio...
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pa_broon74
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Posted: 13:28 - 19 Aug 2008  Post subject: |
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I'll do more tonight maybe, didn't think I;d be able to download the pics then stick them back up... You live and learn...
Probably could have got the whole thread moved but then I'd have nothing to do at work. 
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DidierD
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DidierD
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| Posted: 10:08 - 20 Aug 2008 Post subject: |
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Also I know that beach you're talking about near Durness, I spent about half an hour there just enjoying the waves and I think I had the same family next door to me
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Stevie GooGs
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| Posted: 14:39 - 20 Aug 2008 Post subject: |
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Durness beaches are out of this world, would not think you are in Scotland when you get up there. Couple of photos i took last year.
https://www.bikechatforums.com/files/durness_1.jpg
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Bikerchic1467
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pa_broon74
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| Posted: 08:42 - 21 Aug 2008 Post subject: |
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Hey folks...
In terms of B&B's, in Ullapool, The Arch Inn was good value for money and the best place we stayed. The rest were much of a muchness.
We tried to avoid people who'd just renovated their spare room, we thought it would be weird, plus I don't think they would've appreciated our drink problem.
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| Quote: |
Folks.
Day Three
Ullapool to Mallaig.
This was our first morning waking up to a cooked breakfast and since I consider myself to be something of a full breakfast conneuseuir, hold on; connesoiur... No, connysour; definitely not... Ummm; someone who likes a cooked breakfast I think its only fair to comment upon The Arch Inn's effort. Two rashers of bacon, a sausage, fried egg, toast and the obligatory cooked tomato. I have no idea why cooked breakfasts must have a cooked tomato, in my opinion, a leaking suppurating blood clot detracts from the rest of the meal. Also, if you are foolish enough to bite into it, while on the outside it may seem to be at an acceptable temperature for consumption, on the inside it will be as hot as the centre of the sun.
Anyway, the breakfast was ok; 6/10 (would've been 8 with beans...) After we'd scoffed that down we packed the bikes had a wee chat with a dutch guy on a BMW then headed South on the A835 down the northern shore of Loch Broom. We turned right pausing at the corrieshalloch Gorge (I've already uploaded a photo of the carpark area thinking it was somewhere else near Elphin... Old age is a bitch.)
We probably should've had a look at the gorge, apparently it's quite nice but frankly, we couldn't be arsed. This is also another argument for locking panniers, a busfull of OAP's had turned up and we know they can't trusted what with their meagre pensions. Onwards we travelled stopping next at Gruinard Bay...
I've always wanted to see Gruinard Island, some sort of morbid fascination I imagine. I can't quite figure out why they'd chosen this island to sprinkle with Anthrax when other more remote options were surely available. It was a nice day with the sun shining and the views across the bay where fine. As we stood taking photos and generally behaving like tourists two old chaps turned up, they set up a pair of high powered binoculars and pointed them at the island. I'm sure they were probably just bird watchers, but I like to think they were government employees looking for dead bodies on the Island. (Apparently its safe now, they scraped a load of top soil off and sprayed the island with ether. Still, I passed on buying a Gruinard Island Organic Carrot Cake...)
We cut across the peninsula at Laide (we passed several places with derivations of the word Laide, I was hoping for somewhere called Gotmahole or Fucked but sadly, it was not to be.)
Loch Ewe is nice, a big boat was tied up and 'doing something' at the Naval base there. We made a big show of filming and taking photos (I'm pretty swarthy if I haven't shaved) but we weren't challenged, which would've made an interesting interlude to the tour.
We cut across another peninsula to Poolewe stopping at the Walled Garden of Inverewe... I jest, we flew past that boring shit and headed for Gairloch then headed inland on the A832. We stopped next at Victoria Falls which I was positive was in Africa but what do you know, we have them too. The pictures on Google Earth are quite good but when we where there two things were the case, a) it hadn't rained so the river was quite low and b) even if it had, I forgot to take some photos. You can take my word for it: it was quite idyllic.
I'm going to jump ahead to Sheildaig just past Torridon. We stopped here on a whim, Sheridan had been moaning that we weren't having enough 'experiences' that he could film... Its a really nice wee town, white washed and clean; definitely a contender for my place of retirement. The shop even had a place where I could tie my horse up when I went for my messages, when I say tie my horse up, I mean tether it, not as in tie it up and tell it to 'say my name bitch...'
On the way to Sheildaig we passed Ben Eighe and Liathach, quite possibly the pointyest mountains we'd seen, you wouldn't want to roll down one of those cos it'll definitely chafe
I'm going to stop, our third day was a pretty long one covering most of the West Coast, some of Skye and ending with a ferry trip to Mallaig. I'll post some pics tonight, as ever, the scenery was superlative (theres a word I rarely get the chance to use...) In terms of scenery (I appreciate the concept of 'scenery' is lost on the youth of today) the third day was equal to, if not better than the second.
A concept less alien to any youths reading this (and I suspect most of you older types) is drinking, after getting off the ferry in Mallaig, we decided to push the boat out and get shit faced, I have pics, although I'm not sure if that's a good thing... |
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Ok... To finish day three...
I'd been to Kyle of Lochalsh before so in terms of virgin territory I was kind of on the home straight. We carried on round the A896, the road reverting to a single track until Lochcarron. Two things stick in my memory, first thing: We stopped at a place called Ardnarff which gave rise to the joke; are you tired? Yeah, I've Ardnarff now. The second one was the famous Strome Ferry No Ferry signs you always see round this area, don't know if there used to be a ferry but there isn't one now.
We thought about going to Plockton but we were hoping to get onto Skye and catch the ferry from Armadale to Mallaig. We stopped in Kyle for some fish and chips. I always remember it being a bit of a shit hole, but it wasn't to bad. The fish and chips were quite tasty, it was however a wee bit damp as it had started to rain. This was the first time we'd had to put waterproofs on which I suppose was pretty good going.
We crossed the Skye Bridge (for free.) Sheridan wanted to see the Cuillen hills, he'd been here before but it was always cloudy. There was cloud cover but it was fairly broken up so we got a good view of them after we'd turned onto the A851 Armadale road. We got to the ferry terminal with time to spare, I'd checked the price of tickets online in advance, it had said £9.60. Turns out its £9.60 for the bike and another £3 for the bike rider which seems a bit daft. You're not likely to just put your bike on are you?? Sheridan complained profusely and took a complaint form away.
Theres a wee gift shop by the terminal that has three parrots in a cage outside the front door. The lady owner and her husband took great pride in telling us that if we got in between the parrots and them they'd have our faces off... Seriously, they're just parrots, surely you'd just ring their necks? Apparently, a parrot can crack a brazil nut with its beak. You live and learn.
One of the interesting things was seeing who else was travelling, for example. We pretty much shadowed a guy on a new matt black V-Strom 650, we saw him at John O' Groats, we saw him several times on the road to Ullapool, then at the garage there while we were refueling. We saw his bike at a B&B in Mallaig when we were looking for a place. All sorts of different people where waiting at the ferry terminal, a Dutch family with two teenagers who looked suicidally bored and an American couple that frowned at us on our bikes.
The ferry trip went well, we didn't sink and neither bike fell over. We landed at Mallaig with no plan, we had a wee look about, we rocked up on our bikes to one place, the owner was standing looking out his living room's picture window. His vacancy sign was up, but as soon as he saw us he flailed his arms in a go away gesture then yanked his curtain shut: Welcome to Mallaig.
We ended up at a fairly posh looking hotel, the lobby was all bronze and wood with antlers on the walls. Once we settled into our room we went out on the town. Baring in mind it was mid-week it was actually quite busy, in one place it looked as if a guy was celebrating his 18th or 21st. Bless him, he was a wee bit rotund and his eyes were altogether far to close together yet he was surrounded by females and not bad looking ones at that. It was a wee bit confusing until we heard him chatting away; camps as tits, clearly gay: It has its advantages.
We retired to our hotel, drank a lot more beer and watched the OAP coach party disappear off to bed. I think we went up the stairs at the back of 1am but only because the bar closed. I think the picture I've attached is worth a thousand words.
That pretty much sums up the day, we'd managed this far without any sort of near misses or crashes. The following day was to bring the nearest miss I've ever had, one of those moments where you have to stop and take some deep deep breathes. I've stopped smoking but thought about starting again...
Anyway: embarassing photo time |
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pa_broon74
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| Posted: 08:49 - 21 Aug 2008 Post subject: |
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Yet more...
Don't worry, it'll be over soon.
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Day four.
Mallaig to Fort William.
The morning of day four brought us our second cooked breakfast, it was similar to the first in that it had all the same breakfast substances (including the cooked tomato) but in one area it excelled: it had beans. There was also tomato sauce in abundance, if you get the wee dish with all the sachets of sauce in, do you feel greedy if you use half a dozen? I always do...
Anyway, the road South out of Mallaig was awash with road works. They seem to be digging the whole thing up and replacing it, I dare say it'll be a marked improvement but when we were on it, there seemed to be no reason to the diversions or routes through. Once clear though the road was good and the scenery better.
Our plan today was to head out to Ardnamurchan Point which is the most Westerly point on the UK mainland. The road out was to be our Road of Bones, single track all the way blind corner followed by blind summit followed by blind corner and on and on... The thing is, once you get out to the light house you have exactly the same road back again.
We stopped in Acharacle to buy lunch which we intended to eat out at the lighthouse, it took an age as its a long road which has to be taken with great care. I think we were both quite tired so we stopped fairly often, it took a wee while but eventually the lighthouse hove into view. I've been there before but its changed a fair bit since, there is now a museum and gift/tea shop. There is a shelter under the fog horn where you can admire the view, last time I was here it had been smashed in by storms. It has since been rebuilt, but unfortunately smells strongly of piss which tends to spoil the whole rustic Scotland feel of the place.
I have an admission to make here, you're supposed to pay £2 to get into the lighthouse display & Museum. In our defence the door was open and we'd missed the signs at the gift shop which was some distance back the way we'd came. Anyway, Karma dealt with this crime a wee bit later on...
So; the lighthouse display... Its ummm... Good for kids?? No its actually ok, two things stick in my mind about it (which is as well as I forgot to take photos again...) Firstly there is an old lense which is pretty huge, its about 8 feet tall and must be about 15 feet round and secondly, there is an infinitely entertaining display on what sound best carries through air and water. There was a button marked 'cow moo' and sure enough, when pressed a deep sonorous moo emanates from hidden speakers. (Apparently a cow's moo carries well under water, good for communication, although not so good for the cow.) There were other buttons for whale song, an oboe and a piccolo. None of these came close to the deep mournful song of the cow though, it was such a sad sound, full of regret and sorrow, possibly because at the time the cow was being forced to moo under water.
I can't say for sure whether it was worth the journey given the road in, but it was fun. What was even more fun was the road on the way back out, there was a fair bit of squally showers sweeping the peninsula so we had donned wet weather gear on leaving the lighthouse, the road was pretty greasy too which coupled with the blind summits and corners made for poor conditions.
Near-miss is a bit of a misnomer in my opinion, to me it mean that you nearly missed which means you actually hit. What I had was a near hit, in that I nearly hit a car head on. I can't actually say what happened, single track road, blind corner, minding my own business, AHHHHHHHHRGHFUCKMESIDEWAYSBREATHINBREATHINBREATHIN!!!
How we didn't connect I'll never figure out, it was a blue Mondeo and I think the driver was as shocked as I was. We weren't going to fast, it was just one of those things. Its kinda hard to explain what I tried to do here, given that I had soft panniers on I tried to lean the bike over and squish my hip and elbow in as much as I could so as not to hit the wing mirror. Sheridan was behind me which was as well, his bike was way wider than mine and he would definitely have come off. I couldn't even veer away from the car as I would have ended up on the soft verge probably wearing the bike as a waistcoat in the ditch, I didn't even have time to shit myself it happened so quickly.
We stopped a wee bit later on and Sheridan couldn't stop laughing, for all the faffing about he did with his stupid fucking camera, the git never even caught it on film!! The lesson here is if you're going to visit a lighthouse display and listen to a cow mooing under water, pay for a ticket, if you don't: karma will try to run you over with an old Ford Mondeo.
So that was the B8007 and all its joys, once we hit the A861 road to Strontium and the Corran Ferry conditions improved again. The sun was back out and vehicles had a whole lane to themselves in either direction...
More to follow later... (I heard that groan... )
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| Quote: |
Finishing off day 4...
Strontium.
I like the idea of Strontium, I'd never been to the place but it has a cool name. Strontium! Its like a nuclear isotope, it sounds dangerous. I remember many years ago having an annual, I think it was called Space Hunter. Contained within its hard cardboard covers were things like word searches and comic strips, spot the differences but with space ships and aliens. There was also a strip about a character called Strontium Dog! He was my favourite, a rugged looking (some would say in need of a plate of soup) character thrusting (behave...) his laser pistol towards unknown alien threats.
Anyway, we had to stop here because we had paused a few miles back to tighten my chain, it was flapping about like the Queen's hanky on a state visit. Apparently this is common to TDM's, you have to be really careful when tightening the chain, as a rule its pretty loose anyway. We rolled the bike back and forth finding the tightest spot and even then, it was still flapping about like flag on a windy day. We duly tightened it up so we had an inch of play either way, I pulled away but was getting a wierd rubbing vibration, it was definitely cyclical occurring as the back wheel turned. What was more worrying was the disturbing creaking noise I heard as I passed walls and cars, it was echoing back allowing me to hear... So we stopped in Strontium to slacken it off a wee bit...
Fortunately, we didn't have to fight of an alien invasion...
Next stop was the Corran Ferry, last time we'd been on was as foot passengers, we'd come the other way and had a drink at the pub on the Western side of the water. Unfortunately our timing was a bit off, the ferry was just pulling away. I thought "fuck it, I can make that..." Pinned the throttle to the stop and hit the slipway at about a hundred, shot off the end like a rocket (Sheridan the pussy backed out...) I landed square on the car deck, pulled the TDM round to a screeching halt and slapped the arse of some hot bint as she admired my moves...
Ahem... Yeah, the ferry, it was fine, uneventful...
Fort William, I don't know if I like it. Its a wee bit like Aviemore I think, I find the people in both places to be slightly annoying. I remember after having walked the North ridge of Glen Coe (don't ask me to spell its proper name.) We were staying at the Glen Nevis Youth Hostel, as we got back we bumped into this cock in all the gear, you know the type, small and wiry, super fit and smug as fuck in his craghoppers fleece. He'd asked where we'd been and we'd said the North ridge of Glen Coe, it was getting on for 7pm by this time so he said; "it's taken you this long?" we said yeah. The smug wee bastard then said "Oh last time I did it, it took me 3 hours."
Its this that annoys me about Fort William, all these super fit wankers who run up and down mountains and think there super heros because of it. I explained to this particular arse that if I did it on my own I'd probably manage it in a similar time, but since there were 8 in our party of which half had never done any serious walking before, it would have been incautious to rush.
I won't even go into the night we had in the youth hostel, its a whole rant by itself, suffice to say, I will never ever stay in a youth hostel ever again and to the type of selfish cunt that knows he snores but still books a bed in a communal dormitory - suck my balls!!
Anyway, we did the usual riding around Fort William trying to find a B&B and managed to end up in the shittest hotel in FW. It was getting late and I just wanted to stop, Sheridan was being all indecisive and didn't want to choose so I did it. Obviously the place was a shit hole so I got all the blame, it did have one redeeming quirk; the lift. The private parking bit was round the back (the front actually opened out onto the pedestrianised main street.) The sign out on the back street boasted; Rooms from £29pppn. I thought that seemed reasonable so stopped, I went in expecting to find a reception desk, no, just some lift doors and a button which I dutifully pressed.
The lift doors wheezed open (registering the first doubts in my mind.) I stepped in and pressed the button tastefully labelled in black marker pen "Recep." I turned to face the doors as the lift began to move, it came to a faltering halt just as the hidden doors to my right slid open. It was one of those 'what just happened' moments, I know I heard the lift doors opening but these are still closed, turned to my right... Ah right, I get it... Duh...
Reception was actually the bar and it was completely empty, eventually an Eastern or Central European appears and I enquire after a twin room. She handed me a key and explained the room was on the fourth floor and did I want to check it first, I thought yeah; i'd better have a look.
Back into the lift, pressed the button marked four and up we trundled, this time the doors opened but on the wrong floor. This was some sort of service area, there was some disturbing yellow Do Not Cross tape strung across the opposite door. Fuck me, I press the button marked three, doors close, down we trundle. Ok, this is better, a corridor. I step out and find the stairs, back up to the fourth floor... It does exist, I reckon the wrong lift doors opened or something. The room is shit so I go back down, using the stairs just in case. I ask for another room lower down, she gives me the key for a room on the second floor which turned out to be much better although, for reasons which escape me the sink was in the main room and not in the bathroom. Plus the shower looked like some sort of wierd escape pod in the corner of the tiny bathroom. Mind you, an escape pod was probably a good idea, you turn the hot tap on and it fires you out into Loch Fyne for a splash landing...
Once we settled in we went out for food and the inevitable drink, we came back to our charming hotel to find the manager in the bar watching telly, he'd pinched a small portable set from one of the rooms and was sitting at a table watching it, the place was empty. Bare in mind, the bar was on the main street and it was a Friday night, it should've been busy. When he came into the light we could see he wasn't a well man, I think emaciated is the word. When he realised we weren't 'foreign' he defrosted slightly and gave us a diatribe about what was wrong with the country... In case you decide to stay at this hotel, the manager doesn't mind Eastern Europeans but 'can't stand the blacks.'
He closed up early so we retired to our dungeon where we had a stash of wine and vodka. I think the hotel was actually quite busy but people where scared to come out of their rooms. Again, we got quite drunk, Sheridan sat on the window ledge to film some drunk guy being rolled by half a dozen policemen while I went to check on the bikes in my bare feet and got locked out of the hotel. I think he has video of me pleading from the street below our window to be let back in as my feet were cold.
And that as they say was that... Fort William was actually quite quiet, normally Friday nights are pretty lively as the town does seem to have more than its fair share of chavs and jakey's, they must've spent their giro during the week... Also, I think McTavishes has closed down, a Tea Room by day and a thumping happy hardcore shithole by night, or at least it used to be...
Only one more day to go and its not even a full day, it'll all soon be over, don't worry.
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pa_broon74
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Stevie GooGs
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Bikerchic1467
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| Posted: 16:44 - 21 Aug 2008 Post subject: |
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Thanks will keep that in mind. |
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pa_broon74
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| Posted: 08:23 - 22 Aug 2008 Post subject: |
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Final day.
Fort William to Edinburgh
Need to hit this on the head, get it done, finished, completed, finalized, done and dusted...
So, breakfast. Breakfast was in keeping with the hotel, cheap with a coating of grease. We humped all our gear into the wonky lift then had a heated debate about paying the bill, Sheridan was all for doing a runner as we hadn't paid up front and no one had asked for it. Trouble is, I registered and gave my address and frankly, my credit rating is bad enough without some shithole hotel adding to it, I went back in to pay.
When I came back out Sheridan was talking to an American couple, its amazing how many people will chat away when you're standing next to some motorbikes, she kept say "Gosh, they're so big" (I assume she was referring the bikes) and he had a wistful look on his face. They where from Texas and he certainly looked the part, big white handle bar moustache and a silvery main of hair, he looked like Kenny Rogers. He said he used to have a Harley and I believed him, he certainly would've suited it, when they left us to it he told us to keep it rubber side down. Americans get a lot of stick for being, well, American, they were just a nice couple enjoying the country, taking photos and making notes about UK troop numbers, air bases and the like, I'm sure there wasn't anything in it. Mind you, Kenny Rogers would be excellent cover...
We set off on the A82 heading for Glen Coe, two things are pretty awesome about the place, firstly, its Glen Coe and secondly the amount of tourists in it. We stopped at a big lay-by; it was mobbed! Two buses stuffed with Spaniards stopped while we were there, they descended on the place like a pack of starved chihuahuas, innocent people were having epileptic fits with all the camera flashes going off.
People say its a moody place laden with a sense of forboding that seems to seep from the very rock itself. The harrowing events of the past as the screams of the murdered McDonald's echo up and down the Glen through time, as the silvery red slash of Campbell iron glints maliciously in the moonlight down through the anals of time to this day...
Utter bollocks, its filled with wittering tourists dropping litter totally unaware of its history.
Our next stop predictably was another lay-by, this one is well known though. I think it must be the only lay-by that is a tourist destination in and of itself. I can't decide if this is a good or a bad thing, I don't even think its got a name... We'll call it, say, Cynical Money Making Ploy By Selling Scottish Tat to Stupid Tourists, ummm, lay-by.
You'll know the place, there's a burger van, a stall selling Scottish Tat and a grizzly man playing a weazebag. Its because of places like this that foreign people think we all run around in kilts and play bag pipes while eating nothing but haggis. This couldn't further from the truth, its nylon shellsuits, happy hardcore on a knocked-off Ipod while eating a kebab swilling Buckfast!* Its important to put forward an accurate and positive image of the country, see you jimmy hats and scottie dogs don't cut it any more.
*That's us swilling buckfast, not the kebab.
Anyway, again while we were there, a coach rammed with Japanese and Malay tourists stopped off. By god those people know how to be tourists, they really do! They were in and out in 10 minutes, photos taken, poses posed and tat bought - wham bam and as if they where never there; they're gone!
It was nice to see some teenagers in the coach party, you could tell they'd been dragged along; they looked totally fucking miserable, some things really are universal. I like to imagine there are aliens studying us at the moment with kids in the back of the saucer going "this is fucking pish, can't we teleport home now."
Anyway, onwards and our next stop was at the fabled Green Welly stop, another haven for tourists and arguably bikers too. We have our own wee bit set aside where we can park up for a bit. Although, if the management is reading, could you maybe move it away from the fuel tank hatches, its bloody hard trying to push a fully laden bike over the ridges and bumps, Sheridan got stuck. Actually that was quite funny, leave it as it is.
Did you know, there are no Green Welly Stop stickers? I know this because we asked. There is an impressive range of Scottish tourist tat to be had though, you can even buy heather! Why would you buy heather when you can nip out the back and just pick some? I might start selling Authentic Scottish Air, freshly bottled from Glen Ochayethenoo...
I'll stop for now, I had arranged to skive of early today from work. (This is most productive thing I've done today so its no great loss to my employers.) Photos and the end tonight maybe...
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And finally:
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Ok, to finish.
After the Green Welly Stop we paused again at Lix Toll, if memory serves I had my final ice cream of our trip, it was a Double Caramel Magnum. I think the garage there are skimping on their electricity bills as it was a wee bit soggy, not quite properly frozen... Such a terrible disappointment...
The other thing Lix Toll is famous for (other than its slightly suggestive name) is the LandRover dealership there. We have a friend who, frankly, demonstrates an unhealthy interest in the vehicles. I took a panoramic photo of the line up, for him its like porn. When I say its famous for it, I mean for my friend its famous, in the same way that London's Soho or Amsterdam's Red Light District is famous... Personally I wouldn't know about such things...
It was at this point that it began to rain, we would've went along to Killin to look at the falls but we decided to press on. It was a wee bit sad at this point because we were now just on our way home, we knew the road, there wasn't anything new to see and because it was raining steadily; it had just become a journey to be tolerated.
lochearnhead, Balquidder Station, Kinghouses then into the Trossacks and Strathyre, down the East side of Loch Lubnaig and on to Killmahog, which always make me snigger. When ever I pass through here, I can never resist saying the place name in the broadest Scots accent I can muster, you should try it, its quite invigorating.
We stopped in Callander for stickers for the bikes, we were both cold and hungry but the rain by this time in full flow, it wasn't just spitting or drizzling, it was officially (to use the uniquely Scottish term) pissing down. As a child, you might have been told by older people that rain was simply God having a wee cry. If this was true, he must have received a terrible kick to the nuts because it was tipping it down.
The road after Callander is pretty good, being as it affords some good straights (particularly past the Safari Park) so its easy to make good progress. By this time water had began to seep through my jacket where it had rucked up over the tank. Normally I'd stick a bit of gaffa tape over the zip but we never stopped deciding to just press on. When this happens, when I take my jacket off, it looks as if I've pee'd up the front of myself... Not a particularly fetching look...
Finally and some-what dismally we hit the M9. I'm not sure if I'd prefered to use minor roads, I know if the weather was fine, back roads would have been more fun. To just drone through the rain at a constant 80mph was horrible. It seems the weather is not without a sense of humour, we'd been really lucky up to this point, dodging rain showers. We could see them moving across hills or glens but always they moved behind us or away in another direction. This time however, the cloud was everywhere, just a miserable grey cap of cloud in every direction.
Our final stop was at the Services on the M9/M80 interchange. It was swimming with water and damp tourists, I do feel sorry for people who come to visit the country only to find they can't see much of it because its shrouded in a veil of grey cloud.
So it was, we arrived back in Edinburgh wet but victorious, bedraggled but valiant or perhaps soaking wet and skint. As we rode, the streets were lined with bunting and people stood along the kerb cheering us home. Hundreds of bikers joined us on the home run... Frankly, it was an emotional moment. It had been so hard and we'd been on the road so long... The memories of travelling through Mongolia and Kazakhstan, of border crossings and of course, who could forget the Road of Phones...
Hold on a minute!!
Would I do it again? To right I would. I've still to see the majority of what this country has to offer in terms of scenery & destination and I now know the best way to do it is on two wheels. If you are thinking about it, stop thinking about it and do it. If you know someone who's thinking about getting into biking and you don't want them to, print this off and show them, (joking.) Tell them to get on and do it and finally, if you know someone who's in the early stages of a mid-life crisis... There is a cure...
I'll put up some final pics then that'll be it. You can all breath a collective sigh of relief... Until next time... Mwah ha ha ha... Ha ha... Ummm...
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pa_broon74
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| Posted: 08:31 - 22 Aug 2008 Post subject: |
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Folks.
Further to Stevie's recommendations, avoid the Ossian's Hotel in Fort William, its like Bates Motel but less clean. Its cheap and in a prime location, but it really is a shit hole of the first order.
Thats me done by the way.
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