Scottish Mongolia
Inverness to Strathcarron, 16th - 17th August
Saturday morning found me rushing through Inverness' Morrisons to pick up some big-city supplies before heading off into the far reaches of the Western Highlands. I was a little worried I'd miss my train, but managed to arrive at the station a good ten minutes before the departure time, to my relief. I began to chat with the another bike traveller waiting for the same train, and once our platform was announced we headed down together. There was a pretty standard amount of train faff - too many people, bikes, and prams trying to occupy the same space - but eventually we were all set and on our way out west. I would get off at Strathcarron to start the half-NC500 route along the northwest coast, and my train friend Kat was heading to the end of the line, Kyle of Lochalsh, from which they'd spend a three day weekend cycling around the Isle of Skye. Before all that, though, it was nice to sit down and enjoy a good train ride while swapping bike stories.
This state of calm lasted until about half an hour later, when Kat realised that our train was actually headed in the opposite direction, to Aberdeen. This was, to say the least, problematic. Making it back to Inverness wouldn't be too hard, but there would only be two more Kyle of Lochalsh trains that day, at half past one and half past five. Bike reservations would be difficult, with Scotland in August being a high season for people wanting to carry bikes. We could try our luck on the half past one train, but with all bike spots already booked our chances were low. The half past five train, on the other hand, would get us to the west coast uncomfortably close to sunset, effectively wasting the day. That was particularly unpalatable to Kat, who only had three days off, so they decided to change their plans - dropping Skye for a big loop ending in Dundee, where they live. For my part, I didn't want to wait around until the evening train either, and, looking at the map, I realised that Strathcarron was only actually 100km away - a perfectly cyclable distance. Wouldn't it be more satisfying to avoid a train interruption in my route?
With that, Kat and I (now back in Inverness) set out west together again, this time by bicycle. We'd become good enough friends on our ill-fated train journey that I felt confident committing to a day or two together, and it'd be nice to have some company again. Although my plans had been forced to change at the last minute, I was quite excited about what lay ahead. It's an adventure!
We left Inverness over the high Kessock Bridge I'd been looking at yesterday, and made our way through the small villages to the west. Initially thinking of stopping at a cafe, as we went on it became clear that our route was rural enough that we wouldn't see a cafe or shop all day. Thankfully, we were both fairly prepared. Kat was packing light with nuts and snack bars, and plenty of water, and I had a few meals worth of food and a water filter. Until now, I hadn't had any reason to use the filter, as I'd always been able to fill up in villages, but maybe today would be the day. Salted peanuts and river water, a proper outdoors experience. Moments after figuring this out, however, we passed by an unusual sight: a tiny village hall bustling with people and life. By pure luck, we'd stopped in the village of Marybank as they were having their first annual free community barbecue, and there was plenty of food left. Brilliant.
Bellies full and hearts warmed by the friendliness of the villagers, we continued past a beautiful loch and a dam they'd told us about before leaving the paved road on an innocuous left turn up a gravel path. That path was quite a struggle, and at times we were both reduced to pushing our bikes uphill over the rocks. Passing through a gate near the top of the hill, the landscape changed. No longer were we on a gravel path surrounded by trees and bushes; instead we were in a huge empty expanse of grassland on little hills, with the gravel path winding through. We hadn't had phone reception for a couple of hours, and we certainly wouldn't find any here. It was beautiful.
I loved the landscape there. There were no signs of human existence - no road noise, no buildings, no signal. It reminded me of pictures I'd seen of Mongolia, and even though the map told me there was an A road just a few kilometres away, it felt just as remote. We pushed our bikes through a stream and set up camp on some flat ground, and I was very thankful that we'd gotten the wrong train that morning.
Scottish Mongolia was even better in the morning with fog in the valleys. I had a call arranged with an Indian bike traveller to get some advice for my next journey, so Kat and I parted ways further along the gravel track (where there was phone signal). In any case, they'd want to be going at a faster pace than me with the remainder of their long loop back to Dundee requiring at least 100km per day. On my phone call, it was very useful to hear from someone who had actually done what I wanted to do - not only was it possible, but he'd had a fantastic time, and listening to him made me for the first time feel more excited than nervous about cycling through India. I'm now planning to skip carrying a tent and a stove while I'm there, since food and accomodation will be cheap and available, and camping would be considered pretty weird anyway. In a lot of ways, it's going to be the polar opposite of the Highlands: people everywhere, an abundance of villages and shops, and amazing cheap food and drink. Given the heat, I'm sure I'll be glad of a shower every night, too, although I might miss camping in nature.
That done, I left Scottish Mongolia (slowly; safely going downhill here was hard work), made a careful crossing of the railway line, and, with a sadness and a little relief, joined the A road.
After that, it was a comparatively uneventful ride through more quiet villages until Strathcarron, the train station I was supposed to have arrived at on Saturday. Mission accomplished, a little over a day late. With a celebratory wash in the river, I kept going a little further to Lochcarron, a village with a real grocery shop. Having looked ahead up the north coast, and with some extra research help from home, it looked like there would be long stretches ahead with no shops, so I was keen to stock up a bit. I expected to see two more village shops in the next two days, and then nothing for perhaps another three days after that - not incredibly long, but more than I've done before.
My camping spot that night was a stark contrast to the peace and beauty of the night before - instead, I set myself down by the side of the A road, with campervans occasionally zooming past in the night. Not my finest choice, but I had wanted to cover a little extra distance that night, because the next morning would be my biggest hill in Scotland. The Bealach na Bà pass would take me up to 625m and I wanted to tackle it with fresh legs in the morning, which meant getting as close as possible the night before. It'll be my biggest hill since crossing the Appenines in Italy, but with my new low gears and recent hill practice I feel prepared. It might take me a while, but I'll get to the top.