Barbs Small Wee Ride

As previously promised an update of my return.
Reading David Byrne's, of Talking Heads, bicycle diaries thank you Chris for this, has inspired me to continue the blog; of course all the kind encouragement of you intrepid readers had no effect!
Scotrail have reopenned their $19 return to anywhere, so as I was in the area how could I resist?
As generous as it is they have not made it any easier to take a trusty steed.
I spent a morning trying to book a ticket to Kyle of Lochalshe which requires 3 trains, including more than half an hour with national rail enquiries searching their considerable data base to give me the number I had called them on!
No joy so set off to penrith station to try in person, still no joy bought a ticket and booked Eleanor on next train to carlisle to try there, managed to book Eleanor on to 2 of the trains but not the middle one! Oh well worth the risk I thought, I can remove her wheels and take as hand luggage if necessary.  An added bonus was seeing the start on the second stage of tour of Britain and getting close and personal  with Mark Cavendish, enjoy the lovely bum picture
On to Edinburgh to blag Eleanor on to the train, I still tried to book at the ticket office still no joy, it seems that this part of the journey is not bookable, it is a first past the post system, please note Scotrail and national rail enquiries
13 hours later I arrived at Stromeferry where the station masters house has been converted into a very welcoming hostel.
Poor Eleanor was relegated to a night with the hooly, whilst I was warm and dry inside. Unfortunately, the train was late into Inverness and I was unable to get supplies, so I tucked into a porridge supper, what else in Scotland.
However I was somewhat surprised that my fellow bikers (motorized variety) took up the whole fireplace to dry their kit, then opened the door to the elements to clear the air of the,smoke from frying incredible mountains of protein, swilled down with much beer and post prandial bottles of whisky and only managed to offer me a place at the table to watch!  This was repeated at breakfast.  I didnt really want anything but to carry on a conversation and not to make any sort of offer was the most rude experience I have had in a hostel, I won't mention the nationality as I know it is not universal.

The morning dawned wet but promised better, once the road outside had ceased to run like a river I decided to make a move.Eleanor had survived her night of wild camping but her computer had not.
A pleasant ride to Lochcarron, which has a great crafts vibe, lots of handy tips whilst drying out infront of the heater.  My first fabulously fresh kipper to see me up my first pass, that of cows, which is apparently the highest in the UK at over 2500 ft.  I will admit it took me 2 hours to get there so obviously I have lost what ever residual lejog fitness I had.  I was offered a lift on two occasions which I womanfully decline only to immediately regret as the next shower blew in, however I did see some magnificent stags and views towards the red and black cuillins.
It was a short sharp and freezing descent into Applecross
After a warm welcome at the newly established hostel and,fulsome recommendation of a local restaurant, closer than the pub, The Walled Garden, which I cannot recommend highly enough, a magical setting for good local food, venison, seafood etc. Beautifully cooked, presented and served at a really reasonable price.  I found this on my last trip, Scotland's cuisine is as good as its scenery, not cheap but fantastic value for money.
A magical return cycle by the full moon, a contrast to my previous trip when it never really got dark.

End notes and returns

I think once I turned south I just had to keep going or I would just stay.
I totally, is that totes? fell in love with the highlands and islands.
I knew I should log an end note but it seemed so final and I found myself unable to do it, except now that I am back, more later.

In short I found the whole trip of around 1300 cycling miles plus the odd ferry, plane and train journey as hard, exhilarating and exciting as my previous adventures to Africa and Bornoe.
I have found my own backyard to be full of stunning scenery both ancient and modern; fascinating history and mysterious culture even if it is explained in my mother tongue and kind, curious, interesting and helpful people apart from the odd ,very, motorist and pedestrian not happy to share their world with a similarly odd itinerant cyclist.
I feel very grateful to have survived in body and much greater spirit.
I am not the greatest patriot and it gives me a peculiar pleasure to say thank you Great Britain and your great people for this great experience.

We made it

I set off north for the last time, stopping for supplies on the way.  I had hoped for a hot lunch on the way but managed to miss the hotel, perhaps it has closed.
I couldn't miss the replica Viking long boat which apparently set sail for Newfoundland in 2000 but only got this far, amazing to think they original Viking made in theirs and modern versions still cannot.
I stopped for a rest at Bobby's bus shelter, this was removed by the council mysteriously one day and replaced at the request of Bobby, who made it his own.  It is still looked after by his mum, Bobby is working away now, and has various themes to reflect his and island life
Eleanor enjoyed learning to knit with her new friends.
The to Herman Ness and the most northerly point of my journey.
We were blessed with sunshine and the birds were there in plenty.  You new the colonies of gannets were close as you can smell them before  seeing them and there is the constant noise of squabbling for space.
I also got really close to the  puffins.  The really are the funniest of birds, quite unconcerned by my presence.  They are pairing up and like old married hobbits bustling themselves around their burrows.
And finally to the end.  Muckle Flugga, with the lighthouse is longer occupied so this was it.
We celebrated with the whisky, although we soon moved in from to edge, just in case.
I settled down to wait for the sunset it was a privilege I often deny myself to take the time to watch the birds feeding, the gannets are so graceful wheeling around and diving, the skuas trying to pinch the catch of the kittiewakes, the little awks babbling in the waves and of course the puffins who flutter about right over my head. Also the sea crashing over and against the rocks and the everchanging colours with the light.
However after 8 hours of buffetting by the wing wrapped on my bin liner and poncho over virtually every piece clothingin my bag,  I had to give up at around 10pm as I was so cold and the sea mist came in so it was obvious there wouldn't be any sort of sunset.
It was a tough push up the cliffs to get back to the path but Eleanor managed it again and I was glad to have her with me to the end.
When we got back to the path I saw a couple approaching wondering where the top was to watch the sun go down also if anyone else was there. I was surprised that there doesn't seem to be any real celebration up here.
I was glad to have decided to go back as the cloud got thicker and the drizzle heavier. I can attest that although I did have my lights and high vis jacket on, it still light until 1am, I just thought other road users should see me in the mist, there were none.
I headed back south, I looked into the bus shelter but decided I may as well get back to the hostel for 4 hours warm sleep before heading for the 7o'clock ferry to negotiate getting Eleanor onto the bus to Lerwick, she is such a cutie she squeezed in beautifully so we got back to book onto the overnight ferry to Aberdeen.  Once I had turned around I felt I should just keep going otherwise the temptation to stay might be overwhelming, that and apparently the weather is going to deteriorate.

The last ferry to Unst

The wind is still in the north but should be turning soon, just in time for my journey south.
I was warned by a chap in the Shetland gallery, where I was inspired by some map textiles to get food in cullivoe before I got to the ferry, also to say hello to fortnum and mason, his two shetland ponies on the way.  I think this rather raised my hopes for tasty supplies which were sorely disappointed when I couldn't even get any porridge for breakfast, hey ho another two night of tuna pasta and breakfast and lunch of ryvita and dairylea, it was as much as I could carry, when I turned into the wind to get the three miles back to the ferry, as much as I could push.
I met another couple of cyclists, one doing ncn1 going back via Bergen to Calias. And the other an icelander visiting old norse sites.  I visited the old Viking long houses which are being washed into the sea.
I arrived at the hostel just before the rain and spent a very pleasant afternoon, drinking tea and whiskey watching the weather and the beautiful view of Uyeasound from inside a sun room looking over the bay.
I have decided to spend another day here, as long as the food lasts, before setting off to the northerly tip to watch the sun set and rise on the shortest night.  I shall equip myself with a bin bag, my plastic poncho and all the clothes I have to wild camp again with the whisky to keep me warm.

With in Yelling distance

I cycled back over the bridge onto mainland Shetland and headed back north, into the wind again.  It died down for a while and I was cycling along to the accompanment of skylarks when I turn a corner to be assailed by the sight, sound and smell of Sullam Voe oil terminal.  Complete with airfield, helicopters buzzing about , flare stacks and road sleepers creating more dust than they appeared to be clearing. Strangest of all was that on the other side of the road there were stacks of cut peat, drying for I assume, winter fuel.
This is a land of contrasts.  There is no doubt the oil industry brings in a lot of funds, I haven't seen much evidence of pollution and the local population is able to retain a sense of community and tradition.  No one locks their door out of lerwick, although there may be a few more urban issues there, nothing compared even with intellectually refined Cambridge.
I came down the hill and could see the ferry to Yell, but had to stop to get a picture of these little fellas.
Much more cycle friendly ferrymen here, I was allowed on first and when I tried to pay before I got off I was asked if I really wanted to, it seems he had put his ticket machine away!
I expected to find a shop to get some thing for lunch but manager to miss the one by the ferry.  I had had a phone call from my next b&b lady to say they had to go to Lerwick and would not be back until 7, when she would prepare a meal.  She described which was my room so I could go in, no locks on the doors again.
I found the village but no signal to find the house, I asked around and got directions via another beach.  I stopped there to ransack the last of my supplies for lunch and the next shop was 7 miles away.
What an amazing beach, it had strips of golden, silver and pink sand.  I spent another pleasant afternoon snoozing and watching the graceful acrobatics of the arctic terns, seal and cormorants.

Muckling about

I have ranged to get a couple of b&bs organized for my trip up to the northern isles, although not easy to find somewhere to eat, so the first one allowed me to take a micro wave meal with me, particularly as she was off to church.  I made pretty good time and found a country house hotel so stopped for a wick coffee and cake, which turned out to be really sticky ridge pudding and then the sun came out.
I got to Muckle Row in plenty of time, and saw a sign to the beach, so it was good to get my toes in the water and get a bit of a clamber over the rocks to the light house.  I was a bit surprised to see that it was solar powered, apparently it had only failed to light once during a winter.

Onwards and upwards

A rainy day in Lerwick turned out to be quite busy. Basic chores of clothes washing and planning next steps can take some time.
I popped into a textile museum and was amazed at the fine knitted lace, it could take upto a year to complete one shawl, which like a pashmina should pass through a gold ring.  On my way back into town I saw a bike event go by and tried to join but lost them by the time I turned around.  I carried on with my original plan to go to the Shetland museum it was great and free and out of the rain, recently completed I think, it seems the oil money is finding its way into the community. 
Whilst there I found out that there would be a fun bike ride along the up helly aa route and the Peatbog Fearies playing in the new Maveel centre.
The warm up act had cancelled in the afternoon, so there was a stand-in scratch band of around 12 young fiddles, accordian and keyboard. The reels were so fast and powerful from the audience reaction they were all local.  The ferries were also loud and fast and soon had everyone jigging.