The best views
Strathcarron to Ullapool, 18th - 22nd August
Bealach na Bà was a tough climb. It was long - around ten kilometres of uphill - but also steep at times. Apparently, the maximum gradient is nearly 20% and it indeed felt brutal at times. I'm proud to say that I didn't have to walk my bike, but I did take a lot of breaks to catch my breath. Of course, with the whole road being narrow singletrack, I had to stop a lot anyway to let vehicles pass me. It was great weather for it, at least: sunny and dry, with a clear view to the sea and the hills around. Going up on a rainy day would've been much, much more depressing.
Reaching the top, I took some time to celebrate and enjoy the view before my dwindling water stocks and the hot sun forced me onwards to Applecross. The descent was sheer delight, and my brakes were thoroughly tested on some of the steeper downhills when I had to slow for hairpin turns or passing vehicles. Down in Applecross, I returned to the basics: water, a phone charge, and shopping for the remote camping ahead. My usual formula of bread, meat, and cheese won't work - meat and cheese go bad in the heat, and fluffy bread rolls take a lot of space. Instead, I'd be taking dal, couscous, tinned fish, nuts, currants, and some spices and stock cubes to keep things tasty. Finally, I always like to carry a bit of chocolate to keep up motivation on steep hills. Feeling much more prepared, I found myself a wild camping spot up the coast and cooked up my new dal, couscous, and tuna.
The next four days got into a similar pattern: I'd wake up in my tent on a heather-covered hill with a mountain view, have a little food, and get on the road winding north along the coast. Everyone had told me that the western part of Scotland's north coast was the best part and I was not disappointed - the landscape was dramatic and desolate and I loved it. During the day, I might stop in a village - if I passed through one that was more than just a handful of houses and sheep - for an opportunity to charge my powerbank and use a real toilet. Sometimes I'd get tap water, but I also began using my water filter regularly to fill up from rivers. I'd cook myself some lunch (dal and couscous), keep cycling, and stop for breaks whenever I saw a particularly pretty spot. Navigation is easy: there are practically no other roads. A couple of hours before dark, I'd find myself a camping spot off the road - preferably up a hill, for a good wind to keep the midges away. Tent up, dal and couscous again, and time to call home or read a book before starting all over again the next day.
It was a good rhythm, and I became more and more comfortable with it as I went on. A couple of years ago I would have been quite intimidated by the idea of camping out by myself for days at a time, but over the past few months, and particularly now in the remote Highlands, it's become much more normal. It feels very freeing to have these skills - I'm free from a schedule, free from needing to reach civilisation every day when travelling. I could literally cycle to actual Mongolia this way if I wanted to, perhaps with a solar panel for power. Once I go to India, I won't be camping for a while, and as nice as it is to have a real bed, I think I'll miss this feeling.
The weather certainly helped - I was lucky to have a streak of warm sunny days with no rain, and a decent wind to repel the midges. I enjoyed being by the sea again, too. Lochs are very pretty, but there's something special about looking out at an endless expanse of water and knowing there's an ocean behind it. In this part of Scotland, there are some beautiful sandy beaches too, and in the sun it felt almost like the Mediterranean again.
These few days have very much been about being outdoors and existing in the awesome landscapes, in a bit of a contrast to my normal style of enjoying spending time in towns and villages. I did some of that here, too, but found the villages here quite touristy, with high prices and a sense of slightly annoyed commercialism. I don't mind the other tourists on the roads - on average, they're a Dutch couple in their fifties in a motorhome who are courteous on the singletrack. The problem is that the amount of tourism on the route is poison for having genuine interactions with locals, which is usually one of my favourite parts of travelling by bike. Of course, I'm a part of the tourism myself, and it's perfectly reasonable for people to act this way - I just don't want to interact with it much. The nature is plenty good enough by itself.
Reaching Ullapool, I booked myself the luxury of a hostel bed. After six days of wild camping, a hot shower and a bed would be special, but I was actually I most excited about the Big Tesco. Ullapool, while big for the region (population 1,520) is basically a ferry port with a village attached, but the Tesco is a full-size superstore, with unimaginably diverse and plentiful goods after this week's little village shops. It even stocks mobile phones, apparently for foreign sailors arriving who need all the basic necessities. After six days of wild camping (a new personal record) and eating dal and couscous, I felt a bit like a sailor arriving at port myself, ready to enjoy the shore amenities to the fullest.
I was so excited that, on a whim, I booked myself two nights in the hostel, giving me a whole day off on the 23rd. God knows what I'll do in this little village with a whole day - perhaps I'll actually use the rest day for resting rather than sightseeing. I'll certainly be seeing more of the shower, with one of the best water pressures I've seen in any hostel. I remember that Paul, the French cyclist I met in Italy, had been wild camping for six days before meeting me and Clem in Radicofani, and I finally know how he felt on having a shower that evening: nothing short of magical.