Details

Hits: 8940

Woke up to a lovely sunny morning with blue skies, and was set up for the day with some of Calum’s left-over curry. Headed through Boat of Garten to Carrbridge, where we had tea and scones in a lovely little cafe. I still marvelled at these tearoom events, having gotten used to the 10-hour daily slog of England and Wales, and it was lush to be able to pause for scones with cream and hot chocolate after cycling for only an hour or so. 

After this re-fuel, we took a gentle ride up The Slochd followed by a gentle run down to the Clava Cairns – some prehistoric burial Cairns built about 4,000 years ago. Gentle seemed to be the order of the day. It was all very pleasant, and the lack of rain, and views all around felt very foreign to me, but so very welcome! 

It was still sunny as we left our sightseeing stop at the Cairns and headed to Culloden, where starting to get complacent, the boys made a very serious navigational mistake. As we cycled past the sign for the Culloden Battlefields off to the left, I assumed the boys had decided not to stop off to see it after spending so long at the Cairns. As we sailed down a long, straight and steep hill, that seemed to go on and on and on, it was great to clock up speed and see the miles ticking by, and exhilarating to feel the wind on my face. What I hadn’t realised as I relished this feeling, was that the, until now excellent navigators, had completely missed the sign I had been looking at, and in fact did still intend to visit said battlefield. 

After a mini-meeting at the bottom of the hill, and waving at the German cycle troupe as they went on by, it was (almost!) unanimously agreed to return to the site. I guess it was completely unanimous if you only counted the male opinions of the group. I kept my cool, and tagged on to the back of the line to circle around and head back uphill to the battlefields by a different, several mile long route, grumbling under my breath all the way! Hot chocolate with marshmallows and sumptuous cake went a little way in easing my upset, and I felt I deserved this unplanned fatty feast to ease my troubled brow. We then set off on foot to wander around a field in the bitingly cold wind and look at flags in the distance. We managed a BCQ in the middle of the field, which went a little way to appeasing me, though even this was unimpressive, so I shivered quietly and waited patiently to continue on our way. Battlefields must be a boy thing. 

It was an easy ride down to Inverness after this, back the way we came and then along a few roads until we stopped off at a supermarket for food. Whilst waiting for the shoppers, I happened to notice a post on facebook showing a cartoon of “Is this the real life, or just a Fanta (orange) Sea”, and ended up humming the great Queen epic to myself as the boys congregated ready for the final leg to the youth hostel. By the time we left the car park, there was a full-blown rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody going on, which seemed quite surreal as we navigated our way around roundabouts in the centre of Inverness in rush hour. 

Tonight my hostelling home was shared with a highly-strung, slightly neurotic lady; a European lady who was keen to announce her impending departure would be about 4am; and the two dear ladies we kept bumping in to who were doing LEJOG with their husbands on tandems! 

Details

Hits: 8978

Once again, we headed out with no rain and after pottering about in Inverness for a while, we pretty quickly crossed a long bridge over to the Black Isle. After doing a couple of circuits at a roundabout, where we were confused to keep coming across the same people, we were pointed in the right direction and continued on through Munlochy. Once again it was exhilarating to head along straight roads, up gentle hills, and with beautiful views all around; I pounded the pedals, enjoying my new level of fitness and powering ahead with a great sense of freedom and joy at being alone in the great outdoors. Calum was some way ahead of me, and we eventually paused at a junction to wait for  the others to catch up; Calum pointed out where his mum lived, off in the distance on the other side of the Beauly Firth. We then cycled on to the north, down a long hill before we turned sharp right to head east along the Cromarty Firth coast towards Cromarty. We hit our 1,000 miles along this stretch and stopped for an impromptu photo shoot. 

In Cromarty we stopped to buy lunch in a bakery and sat by the sea watching the “Cromarty Queen” ferry heading backwards and forwards to Nigg. After eating and drinking, we queued for the ferry and headed across, cycling through Arabella and on to Tain. 

Bert and I stopped to do a shop here, before we went over a big long straight bridge over the Dornoch Firth and continued on to Dornoch, a quaint little village that sold delicious ice cream and where we were also able to do a BCQ!

By the time we got close to Rogart Station the wind was strong and against us, and I struggled to keep going, sheltering behind Bert and Rob, who took it in turns to lead our little group of three. We eventually pulled in at Rogart Station where we met Andy Summers again. We all chose little rooms in our allotted carriage, and Bert and I set to cooking up a meal in very basic conditions! We did however, manage to make a tribute dessert for the team – a rocky mountain road concoction with LEJOG spelled out in dried apricots! After eating, we braved the midges to dash to the local pub, but were sorry to discover it had closed early, so we returned to bolt ourselves in to our carriage with all the windows closed, despite the warm evening. I soon went to bed, and Bert was later bemused to hear Alan being profusely apologetic after getting the doors confused in the narrow passageway and almost attempting to jump into my bed.

Details

Hits: 8842

It was definitely a holiday atmosphere as we prepared to leave our train carriage at the station and head off after a leisurely breakfast in the hot sunshine towards Loch Brora. After battling the wind, rain and grey skies through Cornwall, Devon, and indeed, all of England, here we were in the north of Scotland, donning our sun tops and shortest shorts, basking in the warmth and enjoying the most beautiful countryside that can only be found in this part of the UK. 

We eventually left after 10am, and once again I enjoyed shooting along in the sunshine, taking in the views and soaking in the peace. 

Before reaching the loch we stopped to chat to a local farmer, the boys caught up, and we then had a relaxing ride alongside the loch. 

Now it was my turn to drop back, and Bert and I got really behind the rest of the group as we got carried away with the holiday atmosphere – posing by the loch for photo sessions, and stopping to watch some really clever sheepdogs gathering in the sheep. 

We caught the boys up after dropping down in to Brora, and shared a long lazy lunch in the café. We then joined the A9 and rode north along the North Sea coastline with, once again, amazing scenery. After such a leisurely day, I was once again full of energy, and after ambling gently along for a while, I decided it was time to catch up with those at the front, so put on my Pink Lightning super-powers and forged ahead to casually sail past Bert, Calum and Trevor, smiling and waving as I did so. Thus I was the first to arrive in Helmsdale, where we discovered a wonderful hostel with a large communal area and a very welcoming warden. 

As we arrived fairly early, we had plenty of time to wander around Helmsdale and sample a variety of pubs. Following a confusing arrival of a group of scouts and guides, we ended up sharing a dormitory alongside the man and boy LEJOG combo.