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Day 3:- Ullapool to Durness ( Loch Eriboll) Now it is here that I must admit I would very much like to have taken the smaller roads to investigate the fiddley bits on the far western edges of the highland coast line. Scoraig, and out towards the summer isles, but at this point of the journey I did not know how far I could actually get nor how my journey would really pan out. I had ten days before needing to be back at work and I also felt I needed to stay a while with my father in law on my way back down south. So despite the feeling of freedom, there was still a nagging pressure of real life and timescales. So I decided to press on north on the main road A385 but I was sorely tempted to turn left towards Achiltibuie, Old Dorney, Lochinver, but again, this will ahve to wait for another year. So it was a long slog north instead, A837, Kylesku bridge, impressive, some rain the most I would have on my trip got the full poncho on, but over heating soon finds you just taking it off letting your tea shirt get wet and then dry out as you ride. As long as you are moving and pushing you are warm and can dry out. As soon as you start to feel the cold, get dry and put in the layers. Keep the jumpers and poncho for when you stop and need to walk in the rain. TOP priorities:- Always keep your sleeping bag and at least one set of clothes dry in double plastic bags, because you are worth it! Scourie, Laxford bridge, and the really hard bleak bit Rhiconich onwards but when you do finally crest the top of the moores the drop down to Durness is bliss. Durness and it's long sandy beaches are lovely, but by now I was tired and needed to find a quiet spot.
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Not having booked anything ahead tonight it was time to go wild.. finally found a lovely spot up in the heather near Laid to wild camp, back from the road out of sight. Beautiful peaceful silence of a night far from anyone, only to be woken and one point and scared momentarily rigid by the strangest loud sounding bird that appeared to be right next to the tent in the middle of the night. Actually a fabulous sound but one I am still trying to identify..
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Day 4:- Loch Eriboll to John O'Groats Refreshed and up early soon after dawn to break camp. Beautiful morning I rolled down around Loch Eriboll and gradually climbing the hill on the otherside you begin to see what looks to be a ship harbour fortress island linked to the land by a strip of beach. This is actually Ard Neakie Lime Kilns. Now this is where I have to admit I may have gone overboard on bike loading.. My knees were starting to hint to me big time that I had been piling too much torque through my legs. All hills are now taken in the lower set of gears, and I should have started this at the start. Walking up most hills was also becoming a necessity. Not that that was a bad thing. You have more time to take in the scenery. Be nosey over little brooks. Take in the sights. Get the gas burner and kettle out and have a cuppa! My knees were actually starting to audibly squeek as the as the ligaments stretch over the knee joints, aahhwww. It was time to take stock of the bike load.. Trainers on, do I really need that extra pair of plastic water shoes. Two spare inner tubes when I might only need one.. All those extra clothes.. wear one keep one spare dry. I don't need the rest. It was time to ditch. Seeing a clothes recycling point prompted a rash drop in clothes carried. This was going to be a long day. I didn't know how far I'd get but I was definately aiming for John O'Groats. If I didn't make it I could stop where I get, equally there was nothing to stop me from just carrying on. Tongue Causeway sees the road cross the Kyle of Tongue. So many places I would like to nose around but missed, even just to walk out onto Tongue Pier, but my goal was to just keep going today. Bettyhill is undoubtedly a jewel of the north coast. We are leaving the highlands behind us and the landscapes are starting change. The coastline here is gorgeous. I must also point out, Scotland does public conveniences as they should be. Available, open and working. Usually with fresh water taps to keep my bottles full. England could learn lessons here. So often conveniences have all closed and the only option for toilets are in coffee shops. If you want visitors to come and even locals to be properly catered for this is a minimum that should be maintained. The wind is against me now, coast line to my left, on to Thurso. No more west coast highlands, missing the beauty of Applecross the spectacle of heavy industry and Dounreay Nuclear Power Station. The road is becoming a bit of a racetrack, commuter traffic and afternoon bikers are rushing to their destinations. Knuckle down and carry on. Thurso is a major town with a good selection of shops and marks a turning point for traffic to head south on the A9. Here though the long slog to my target starts to drag on. The wind against me doubles the struggle. Murkle, Castletown and Mey have there own special places..again I am rushing when there is always more to see. Today would be my longest daily ride of all, 86.5miles. Clouds were gathering and to be honest my target was getting pretty bleaker but I did manage to make the campsite and pitch before the rain came. A stark difference this east side of the country to the west I had left that morning. The weather was kind to me. the rain did not last and in reality the winds could be a whole lot worse.
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Day 5:- John O'Groats to Inver I had bagged the preverbial selfie at the signpost of John O'Groats the night before . In reality I was now happy to leave here. I could have continued south on the A99 but the coastal winds were against me again and I decided to head in land and to smaller roads for traffic free cycling and shelter from the coastal winds. So back to Canisbay, Upper Gills then south to Brabster, Hastigrow, Watten (with its rookery of birds in the only trees for miles that splattered the cars in the village with poo) and then down through Windmill covered fields to visit Camster Cairns. An unplanned gem of a find. Appreciating the woosh of the windmill sails, the Cairns, piles of prehistoric rocks that were homes or refuges for early man now approached from a boarded walkway allowed me to crawl right inside through a small iron gate to the centre of the pile of rocks. An eary experience and a step back in time. Just one other solo campervan for company, I could have crawled in and never come out again and nobody would have been around to rescue me if I'd just grown a little to large to squeeze myself back out! Stopping at www.inver-caravan-park.co.uk at Dunbeath, with a warm welcome and a specially reduced price for those who make it there under their own steam. Thank you!
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Day 6 :- Inver to Blackrock Caravan Park, Evanton, Dingwall Following the A9 south now 64 miles or so. A really nice spot on route for a break was Helmsdale, a fishing port at the estuary of the River Helmsdale. It was once the home of one of the largest herring fleets in Europe. Helmsdale taught me some Scottish history at the Emigrants Monument
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Day 7:- Dingwall to Torridon On the home stretch now. The end was in sight. I might actually make it! Today I went through some awsome places (as I did everyday). Strathpeffer a Victorian era popular spa resort, with a pump-room in the middle of the village and hotels. Contin, Garve, Achnasheen, Kinlochewe then up to Torridon Campsite a Highland Council run site run on donation. No vans caravans or motorhomes so ideal for the cycle tourer! This was a lovely spot with hikers and climbers carrying crashmats on their backs visiting Beinn Eighe and the surrounding mountains. Also, for the first time on my trip I got to use my midge sprays and creams! So it was bed early and midge screens zipped tight on the tent.
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Day 8:- Torridon to Applecross Back to the most beautiful area of my trip. The Applecross peninsula. The excitement of completing my journey only heightened the thrill. On my initial ride out over a week ago I passed and wished good day to an elderly gentleman walking the road in what seemed miles fom anywhere. He was perfectly 'at home' where if I had met such a person in my home town so far from civilisation I would have been most concerned. So when I chanced upon the same person on my return trip it was time for a better conversation. Stewart Johnson turned out to be very personable and pleased to stop and talk. I heard a potted history of his life, his work in New Zealand and his life here in the highlands with his cattle. A different life indeed with a very different perspective on life I was very pleased to make his aquaintance. Now just sheep and a few highland cattle stood in my way, but I was back, journey complete and reunited with my car. In all I have cycled and walked and enjoyed 455.26miles. Strava logged 55hours and 28minutes of moving time with an average of 8.2miles/hour. Completed in 7 days and three hours with hill elevation climbs totalling 29158ft, the same height as Everest. It was time to celebrate and to do this I took a refreshing swim on the specatcular but deserted beach at Applecross Sand, Sand Beach, parking at the car park at Sand on the road that leads to the Ministry of Defence submarine testing station.
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