£227.95 two double rooms plus bar drinks at Glenmoriston Townhouse Hotel, Inverness
£2.90 hot chocolate with marshmallows and cream, Caffe Savini, Dingwall High Street
£0.45 postcard from Dingwall Post Office
£9.00 lentil & cheese wedge with salad and pot of tea, Caley Cafe, Bonar Bridge
£36 carb, protein, and electrolyte drink powders and bars from Inverness running shop
I woke with a slight headache again in the morning, despite not having had alcohol for four days. I hadn't slept very well so wondered whether the headaches were related more to that than anything else. Despite the headache however, I managed to find my way straight out of city without getting lost. On my previous form, that was a minor miracle.
I thought that perhaps the headaches could be related to my nutrition, or rather my somewhat erratic approach to nutrition whilst on a long distance cycle ride. The energy, carb, and protein bars and drink powders that I'd bought in Inverkeithing had certainly helped me to keep going all day. As Inverness was the last big town we'd be going through, and I wasn't sure how many cafes I would pass for meals in the Highlands, I asked Vaughan to get me stocked up before he and Liz drove out of the city.
I rode over the Kessock Bridge to the Black Isle. The bridge wasn't as high or long as the Forth Bridge, but as the cycle path was right at the edge of the bridge I still had to keep focused on the path ahead and the horizon in order to avoid getting freaked out.
I'd heard lots about the Black Isle as I'd travelled up through Scotland, and there is a choice of two Sustrans route 1 ways across the Isle. Despite the version of the route that takes you across to Cromarty for the ferry across the Cromarty Firth looking more interesting and adventurous, I opted for the more direct route running alongside the A9 and A835 to Dingwall. When I had worked out how many miles I needed to cover each day in order to reach John O'Groats by the 26th September, I realised that some days would require the less scenic options or abandoning the Sustrans route for more direct main roads for short sections.
My choice of route meant that I didn't get to see the spectacular scenery that I'd heard about, just mile after mile of arable fields and farming towns. I also started to notice lots of articulated logging lorries on the roads, carrying logs or empty, with a big crane on the back ready for loading up again. They were big vehicles to have passing you on a bike, but they were all very considerate and gave me lots of room when overtaking me.
I paused in Dingwall for a hot drink and toilet stop. As I stopped at some traffic lights I saw a cafe with outside seating so decided to go there. The Roberts joined five other bikes leant against the cafe wall and window; I guessed this must be a popular cyclists cafe stop as it's right on the Sustrans National Cycle Network route 1. As I walked in I saw the cyclists sat in one group; three women and three men, looking like they were all in couples and riding together. One of the women was in jeans whist the rest were in various forms of cycling or fitness clothes, and they looked quite varied with some in trainers whilst others wore cleats, and about half in lycra bib shorts whilst the others were in tracksuit bottoms. They looked fairly self contained so I didn't say hello or acknowledge them particularly, but just went to the counter and waited for the barista to finish what he was doing and turn to serve me. As I waited, one of the men asked me if I was going far. I replied John O'Groats, and he said they were on their way there too. I didn't feel in the mood for swapping notes of our routes, the weather, and comparisons of pot holes around the UK, so only extended the conversation to establish that we were all staying at Crask Inn that night.
The other cyclists left the cafe before me, walking their bikes down the High Street to their van. Whilst five of them were cycling, it was clear that the woman in jeans was driving their support vehicle.
The scenery continued to be mainly agricultural and unremarkable until Bonar Bridge where I stopped for lunch. There was a choice of pub, cafe, or fast food van. I recognised the five cycles and mini van parked outside the pub and went in there to join the group of cyclists, thinking I might strike up more of a conversation with them this time. I noticed as I went in, however, that the pub stopped serving food at 2pm and I'd arrived in Bonar Bridge at quarter past.
I greeted the group of cyclists as I entered then looked around for someone to serve me; there was no-one behind the bar, no other customers in the pub, but I could hear the sound of money being counted in the adjacent bar so I poked my head around and asked if they were still serving food (assuming the money being counted was the pub's and not for logging activities or anything more sinister). I was told to ask the barman and when I replied that there was no-one behind the bar the money counter bellowed out and a young guy popped his head around a door to the bar. He checked whether they could still do me any food and came back to say they could do me a toastie. He seemed non-plussed when I explained that I couldn't eat bread, so I said I'd go across the road to the cafe instead. The whole set up in the pub was a bit strange, I thought, and the group of cyclists hadn't been very welcoming to me so I figured eating food I didn't want in an atmosphere that was frosty wouldn't make for a nice lunchtime.
Having had a pleasant lunch across the road and watched the group of cyclists set off towards Crask Inn, I continued my journey. I was just about to turn off the A road for a small single track that ran parrallel, when Vaughan and Liz caught up with me in a lay by that I'd stopped in to turn my map over. 100 yards later, and they wouldn't have seen me. I had a painkiller with some water from the van, then we went our separate ways towards Crask Inn. I could have stayed on the main road, but I was getting tired of the logging lorries passing me continually and I craved the quiet empty roads I had become used to on the trip. My route also had a bonus of passing Shin Falls, where I carried the Roberts down some steps so that it could be in photograph of the tumbling water and leaves just beginning to get their autumn shades. The road, views, and headache tablet all restored my energy (along with lunch, no doubt) and I thoroughly enjoyed the rest of the afternoon's ride.
Crask Inn itself appears on road maps with that name, as if it is a small village. In actual fact, it's just an Inn and a cottage opposite, which the owners have turned into what they call a bunkhouse. It has to be one of the most remote pubs in the UK, up a very long stretch of single track road at weaves between managed forestry. It's here that all the logs were coming from.
Vaughan and Liz had managed to get us in to the bunkhouse as all the rooms in the pub were full, and even the lawn was full of campers (a group of Irish motorbiking tourers). We expected something like the backpackers hostel we'd stayed in in Dundee, but discovered we had the cottage all to ourselves. There were three bedrooms, two showers, a kitchen, and fair sized living room with coal burning stove and plentiful supply of fuel. We all agreed this was the best place we'd stayed in so far all trip. it cost us £31.50 each for dinner, bed and breakfast.
Vaughan lit a fire in the stove whilst I had a shower. Liz had been warned by the owners that the showers leaked, but not to worry about it. This was an understatement, as a small lake formed in the shower room, escaping out towards the kitchen. The water was hot, eventually (the plumbing must have been ancient) so I was happy paddling about in my flip flops after freshening up, then sitting in front of the roaring fire with a cup of tea before we walked across the road to the pub for dinner.
All the customers in the pub were guests at the Crask Inn; there are no locals as there's no village or even house for miles around, just open heathland and hills. We looked at the hand-written menu which got passed around the bar between us (another pleasant surprise as we hadn't expected any choice in such a place, and they'd gone to some trouble to care for Vaughan and Liz as vegetarians and myself as gluten free), then walked through to a simple dining room at the back.
Having feasted on a three course dinner and couple of Black Isle ales, we wandered back to the cottage in the pitch black. Vaughan stoked up the fire then appeared with a birthday cake and candles that had been travelling around with us since my birthday. What a special evening, that I know I'll remember forever.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
No comments:
Post a Comment