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Travel StoriesUllapool 2012 - By Ren Withnell
Ullapool 2012 - Bolton to Inverarnan
Monday morning, 0700, with a planned departure time of 0930. I'm awake full of worries about loading the bike up yet the gf sleeps as soundly as only she can. I wake her with much trepidation. I'm greeted with a grunt followed by complaints. She does not think it will take 2.5 hours to load up and get going, I know otherwise. By the time I've made her a brew and a bite to eat she's barely out of bed and staggering around in the bathroom. Needless to say it does take up the best part of 2 hours to work out what will go where on the bike, to squeeze clothes and equipment into various bags and to apply 7 bungee cords and a bungee cargo net to all this. I'm still not as happy as I'd like to be with my loading but to reduce the load would lead to arguments. That's not the start I'm looking for. Another half hour is required to kit up and make sure everything is off in the house. 2.5 hours, I knew it.
We arrive in wobbly style at IW's place. He's up and about and almost into his bike gear. Good lord, I thought my bike was loaded up! If his bike were a donkey with a load like that the RSPCA would be right to throw him in jail. It takes some squeezing and pushing to get his bike out from the back yard and just like myself IW wobbles with the bike. I hope this wobbling does not become a feature of this trip.
My Fazer 600 with full load. It's fine when you get used to it...but initially it's a wibbly wobbly world...
It's been raining and the forecast is for further rain. Damn. Of course being a real roughty toughty biker the rain won't spoil it for me, but inside I kind of hope we'll have a full week of glorious sunshine. If the weatherman is to be believed all we can hope for is for the rain to turn to drizzle. Still, as we set off it's not bad at all, the road is wet but the rain is only slight. After fueling up the motorway starts it's long and tiresome path northbound. It passes and passes, the rain varies between light and almost stopping, the traffic is fair and I keep an eye on my load. So far...so good.
First stop, Tebay services. Nice place this, but like all services it's expensive. Next stop just after Carlisle for fuel and a stretch, we meet some bikers from Ireland. Next stop Hamilton services for another stretch and a brew then on through the confusion of the M74 and M8 of Glasgow. To add to the confusion the rain increases. This makes it hard to see the various signs which guide us through a perplexing array of lanes and speed limits. After 180 miles I'm starting to get very tired. Lorries blast spray just at the moment I'm trying to work out which lane I need. Some cars crawl whilst others fly past. Somehow, some way I manage to lead us successfully to the Erskine bridge and with great relief we stop for fuel at Dumbarton.
Tebay Services. Perfect weather...for ducks...as you can see...
There used to be a little chef next to the petrol station in Dumbarton and I had been looking forward to a brew there. It's closed, all boarded up, my heart sinks. The lady in the petrol station guides us to a Morrisons in Dumbarton so we trudge through the rain for another few miles before we find respite. It's 1600 now and we are unsure what food or facilities are available at tonight's campsite, so we order a full meal. I like supermarket cafes. The food is affordable and acceptable, there's toilets and if there's anything else you want to buy it's all to hand. As I eat I start to relax. We've only got another 30 miles to go today, the bike seems OK and apart from the rain the trip has been thankfully uneventful. The gf uses the hand dryer in the toilet to warm her gloves and remove the excess rainwater.
Back out onto the road the rain has lightened and with food in my belly and not far to go I feel so much better. To further improve my mood the motorway and dual carriage way is now a regular road. The first time I traveled along the A82 I thought I'd passed several large lochs. It's only when I saw a map that I realised just how big Loch Lomond is! The A82 first affords glimpses of the loch with mountains in the background. Later you get to see the loch through trees then occasionally it's revealed in all it's glory. Now I feel like we're up North, now we're out of the rat race and into the wilderness. In reality we're a mere 20 miles from a town and surrounded by tourist places and holiday parks, but at least it feels rural.
We pass the end of Loch Lomond and I also ride straight past the campsite entrance...damn. Signalling to IW I find a spot to turn around and ride slowly back a few hundred yards, trying to ensure I find the entrance this time. A wooden bridge greets us, wet and covered in slime. I stop and ask the gf to dismount, the less I have to worry about the better. Gingerly I crawl along the wooden planks with my feet out, my heart beating and my muscles tensed against the impending slippage. IW and I both navigate the bridge successfully and the gf remounts to complete the run down a tarmac lane to the campsite.
The campsite, Beinglas Farm, looks OK so far. But I have a nagging worry that's starting to be confirmed. Midges. Midges love a damp atmosphere. Midges love light rain. Midges love still air. This is midge heaven, which means we will be in midge hell. I was afraid of looking stupid in my midge head net, I need not worry about that as almost everyone is sporting something similar. The damp and still campsite is populated by men shaped bodies with dark black shrouds over their silent features. Those humans without protection wave their arms around endlessly in torment. Faces are rubbed, necks are slapped and hair is itched. The air is thick with them.
The Full Anti-Midge Gimp Suit. By 'Eck I look stupid, but those without protection look even more stupid.
I wonder if we should try somewhere else. I'm tired though and I suspect anywhere in this region is going to be much the same today, I guess I'll have to net up and get on with it. Not all is lost though. There's a bar on site as well as a small shop and the toilets look acceptable. Mind you, the idea or removing clothes even for the call of nature fills me with dread, bites in that area will be even less welcome. IW and I head into the bar and pay for our one night's stay and make to put the tents up.
I consider myself to be a fairly smart bloke. I think I'm fairly midge wise too. So what the hell am I doing pitching my tent near a tree? It does seem to be the least boggy part of the camping area but as soon as I spread the tent out and grab a pole it seems the entire population of highland midges descend upon this landmark, to dine on my bare hands. The midge net does it's job yet I feel itchy just seeing them all around me, crawling over my hands, swarming in front of my face. I rub my hands every moment yet they persist. This new tent is easy enough to erect but it feels like an age before it's done.
What kind of fool pitches near trees in the thick of midges? This kind...
I know they're not, but it feels like they're in the net with me. My hands are sprouting the red welts from bites and I feel as though they're in my t-shirt and pants too. Little buggers. The gf has no net, she did not suffer so much in 2008. She is now. Even she's suffering and she leaves me for a while as move the gear into the tent. I make sure to open the bedroom as little as possible but the airbed and sleeping bags need to go in, followed by an squadron of evil. IW's in much the same predicament and this is not going to improve as far as I can see. My mood is failing me but I endeavor to keep my outward persona as upbeat as I can. I curse quietly to myself.
The gf lifts my spirits. She returns sporting a PINK head net! Luckily the shop sells such things, I imagine they sell a lot. Her thinking is that in pink she can be feminine, all girly and cute. In reality all she achieves is managing to look like she's sporting a large baggy condom on her head! I laugh and laugh, she wonders what I'm laughing at. I point out that she's wearing a condom and looks like some character designed to enlighten young children about the benefits of safe sex. Luckily she laughs with me. Between us and between itching, scratching, rubbing and cursing we complete setting up the tent for the evening.
Oh come on...that looks just like a big baggy condom on her head doesn't it?
Inside the bar we remove the head nets and take relief and solace in a drink, non alcoholic for myself. The bar is much better than outside, but it's not completely safe. Outside the door a swarm keep guard. As people come and go some of them enter to feed on the occupants. From time to time I feel the discomfort of another bite, sometimes on my face, my hands or my neck. This leads to itching and that itching spreads psychologically to every part of my body. It's better than outside though. I'm not looking forward to bedtime tonight.
The bar is small and quite full. We're sat next to a couple from the Shetland Isles, real Northerners. They're on an organised walk of the west highland way, their luggage is moved to the next stop and they make the 15 - 20 mile walk each day with just their supplies. As we talk of ferries, islands, walking trips and the cost of fuel I try to imagine what it would be like to live so remotely. Fuel up there is expensive, 40 pence per litre more than back home! It is hard to imagine their lives, I assume it must be just as hard for them to imagine mine.
The view from outside the bar, complete with rustic barrels and ploughshare. If it wasn't for the wee beasties, it'd be lovely.
They leave and after another half hour of talking to IW and the gf I'm bored and tired and ready for bed. I don't want to go though. I don't want to face the onslaught of evil that awaits us outside or the thought of the tent full of the little bleeders. But there's no avoiding it, I can't spend all night in the bar and I really am ready for some shut-eye now. I net up, pull my sleeves down as far as they can go and prepare. It's just as bad as ever outside. As I mill about the bike a van rolls up and about 6 or 7 youths, maybe 12 to 15 years old get out with a couple of adults. They're not a family, they appear to be a youth group of some description. As a torrent of foul language spews forth from the mouth of one youth I figure it may be some community or offenders project.
Midges cannot be accused of "-ism" of any kind. They're just as happy to munch on foul mouthed chavs as they are dirty bikers. I take silent delight as the gobby youth swipes and swats and curses as the wee beasties attack. By the time I've secured the bike, braved removing my pants long enough to use the toilet facilities and had another smoke the collection of youths...well their leaders...have erected several tents for the night. Some of them have purchased head nets, the gobby one is wearing his but still he curses. One of his peers tells him to mind his manners but that suggestion is put down in an offensive a way as possible.
I fear my tent, my new shiny and expensive tent, it scares me. Both the gf and I have taken great precautions to minimise the number of midges that get into the "sealed" bedroom compartment, but it is inevitable that some will get in as we enter and leave. Sure enough as I remove the head net and look around there are a number of the accursed devils in there with is. It is however not so bad. I'd estimate itd estimate it's like being in the bar, the odd one may take a bite when you're not watching, but it's not a relentless onslaught.
We both manage to get to sleep, thankfully.
Ullapool 2012 - Prologue
Ullapool 2012 - Bolton to Inverarnan
Ullapool 2012 - Inverarnan to Ullapool
Ullapool 2012 - The Lochinver and Drumbeg Loop
Ullapool 2012 - A Ride To Gairloch
Just another one of those fabulous and beautiful rides around The Highlands. The weather isn't so bad either.
Ullapool 2012 - UIlapool To Callander
Ullapool 2012 - Callander To Bolton
The motorcycle ride from callander to bolton and what happened on the journey
Ullapool 2012 - Epilogue and More Pictures
The end of my travel story to ullapool and some more pictures of the area
Ullapool 2012 - Even More Pictures
Pictures from my motorcycle trip to Ullapool. Scotland is a beautiful place and we even had great weather.
Reader's Comments
John said :-
Looking forward to the next instalment Ren, and photos. :)
01/01/2000 00:00:00 UTC
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Travel StoriesUllapool 2012 - By Ren Withnell